I'm Not Bitter
by Aaron Troye-White
I“I love
the sound of woodpeckers.”
“Mr. President, we're 15 feet underground.”
“It's a fantasy, for my sanity.” He
rubbed the fingers of his right hand through what
was left of his grey hair, even less than when he'd
entered office three years prior. “How much
time do we have?”
“It depends on what tools they have, but
they're already chipping away at the concrete.
They'll use explosives if necessary.”
“I'd better keep going then.” He traced
his index finger along the barrel of the revolver
on his desk. “Take this down...I gave you
everything I'd promised. Free health care,
education. We've never been more equal. Sure, we
lost Bezos to Luxembourg, but we don't need him.
This country is built on us, together, not the
few. They said my ideas were impossible, I'd be
bad for business, but we've never seen more
business. The streets, they have stores, stores
like in the past, stores where you know the owner,
cause he's there behind the counter...Surely one
of the generals will protect me. It's their job.”
“Sir, you've gutted the military. Every
general joined the coup.”
“And the people. Where are the people? The
people love me!”
“You know how the people are. Willing to die
for the cause, then after two weeks, they got
bored and went home.”
“I shouldn't have legalized marijuana!”
“Let's be honest, the billionaires' smear
campaign was pretty good.”
The bunker shook, throwing the president off his
chair. He grabbed the edge of his desk and pulled
himself up. “Take this down!...I am not, nor
have ever been a communist. I'm a Keynesian! And
I never went back on what I believe. I love this
country and I never let the oligarchs take me!”
He picked up the pistol and brought to his temple,
let out a long exhale from his nose, and pulled
the trigger.
“Sir...”
“What?”
“You banned handguns, remember?”
“What is this, then?”
“It's a lighter. A joke gift from the NRA.”
He tossed it across the bunker. “They're
hopeless, aren't they? Fuck 'em. Take this down....I'm
not bitter, but you don't deserve this great
country anymore. If you prefer morally bankrupt
billionaires over your own best interests, then
let me show the world they'll give you.” He
removed his glasses, used the back of his palm to
wipe the concrete dust from his brow, then placed
the glasses on his desk. “Bring me the
football!”
“Sir, you dismantled the nuclear problem
last year.”
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