Apostrophe Wow- A Health Care Reform Story
Posted: Tuesday, September 01, 2009
by Ken McCreless
RMS1437
Save the whales! Save the whales!
Such was the chant of the gathering crowd. It had began earlier in the day, just as the fire department sounded its daily noontime Citizens Readiness Alarm Protocol, a system consisting entirely of a 40's era air raid siren blaring a monotone and barely audible note.
Save the whales! Save the whales!
It started with four brothers who had gotten their lather up discussing their youngest family member who had recently passed away, a heavy smoker with an uncontrollable love of bratwurst. His name was Dennis, but was known as "D." His brother, Kilroy, who never really got along with his sibling, felt the need to avenge his brothers death, and to uphold the Wayles family reputation.
Save the whales! Save the whales!
The brothers had walked to the Internal Controlling Hub for the Acclimation and Betterment of Organizational Determination, I.C.H.A.B.O.D., paying no attention to the pitiful bleating of the early warning tone coming from the firehouse down the block.
Remember D Wayles! Remember D Wayles! , they shouted to the windowless structure, while whirring servos aimed the myriad security cameras at them. Within minutes they had been joined by several people of various ages and classifications who had been aimlessly looking for a cause to champion, none of which had any love for I.C.H.A.B.O.D. since being forced onto the public dole.
Save the whales! Save the whales!
The newcomers had overpowered the first group, switching to "save" because they could not understand why anyone would shout "remember" the whales. "How can you forget something as large as that?" one of them had wondered aloud. It made no difference to them that the last whale had been found dead and bloated on some obscure beach in northern California.
It was assumed by others coming up on the scene that a protest had formed to express the disgust and despair felt by animal lovers everywhere at the loss of an entire species, and that it was logical to shout such sentiment at the central government legislative clearinghouse.
It was now six pm and the crowd had grown to around 2500 people. The shouts had fizzled into a loud murmur, and a few people left to go clubbing.
A small garage door opened, and out came a man with a cart, selling soft drinks and hot dogs. An hour later two men came out while the first went back in. One was pushing a cart selling beer and giant pretzels and the other had every part of his body covered in flashing items, some loops, some sticks with rings that traveled up and down the length of it, and some baseball caps, all brilliant with at least a thousand flashing, alternating colors, as was the hundred or so pins attached to his clothing. An hour later these two went back in while a lone figure emerged and began to sell one-use-only keys to the Skid-O-Cans being unloaded from a flatbed truck.
***
The sun tried to begin the day in full brilliance, but was shut out once again by the filthy cloud that gathered during the windless night.
Return to your homes! Return to your homes!
One by one each person in the crowd blinked their eyes open in response to the incessant and excruciating commands that were blasted at them. The large and ominous speakers had put them to sleep the night before with soothing ocean sounds peppered with flowery speech and propaganda.
Now, it was time to go to work.
That salt was not going to mine itself.
Such was the chant of the gathering crowd. It had began earlier in the day, just as the fire department sounded its daily noontime Citizens Readiness Alarm Protocol, a system consisting entirely of a 40's era air raid siren blaring a monotone and barely audible note.
Save the whales! Save the whales!
Save the whales! Save the whales!
The brothers had walked to the Internal Controlling Hub for the Acclimation and Betterment of Organizational Determination, I.C.H.A.B.O.D., paying no attention to the pitiful bleating of the early warning tone coming from the firehouse down the block.
Remember D Wayles! Remember D Wayles! , they shouted to the windowless structure, while whirring servos aimed the myriad security cameras at them. Within minutes they had been joined by several people of various ages and classifications who had been aimlessly looking for a cause to champion, none of which had any love for I.C.H.A.B.O.D. since being forced onto the public dole.
Save the whales! Save the whales!
The newcomers had overpowered the first group, switching to "save" because they could not understand why anyone would shout "remember" the whales. "How can you forget something as large as that?" one of them had wondered aloud. It made no difference to them that the last whale had been found dead and bloated on some obscure beach in northern California.
It was assumed by others coming up on the scene that a protest had formed to express the disgust and despair felt by animal lovers everywhere at the loss of an entire species, and that it was logical to shout such sentiment at the central government legislative clearinghouse.
It was now six pm and the crowd had grown to around 2500 people. The shouts had fizzled into a loud murmur, and a few people left to go clubbing.
A small garage door opened, and out came a man with a cart, selling soft drinks and hot dogs. An hour later two men came out while the first went back in. One was pushing a cart selling beer and giant pretzels and the other had every part of his body covered in flashing items, some loops, some sticks with rings that traveled up and down the length of it, and some baseball caps, all brilliant with at least a thousand flashing, alternating colors, as was the hundred or so pins attached to his clothing. An hour later these two went back in while a lone figure emerged and began to sell one-use-only keys to the Skid-O-Cans being unloaded from a flatbed truck.
***
The sun tried to begin the day in full brilliance, but was shut out once again by the filthy cloud that gathered during the windless night.
Return to your homes! Return to your homes!
One by one each person in the crowd blinked their eyes open in response to the incessant and excruciating commands that were blasted at them. The large and ominous speakers had put them to sleep the night before with soothing ocean sounds peppered with flowery speech and propaganda.
Now, it was time to go to work.
That salt was not going to mine itself.
Ken McCreless is just a guy who loves to write, and was born to do so. He is a freelance writer with several projects ongoing, including books and magazines. A huge fan of both irony and history, Ken has dedicated his life and his writing to serve the Lord Jesus Christ.
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Top-level comments on this article: (8 total)Thank you, Ye artisan of words! This was good.. I mean GOOD! Thanks Ken for your unique and brilliant way of telling us personal behavior is a part of healthcare reform as well.Thank you, Edward, I am honored to read such kind words!Americans know what to do. We just need to do it.
Accountability - love the tongue in cheek style here. And the chuckle but bringing out some definite points in a serious issue. MarijoThank you, Marijo.
Ken, somehow, I feel this write has an even deeper meaning than I'm seeing as I read it. Fabulous, and keep up the great work!You are right , Ronyae.Thank you so much for reading and commenting.
Ken, you made your point well. Hope you and the family are getting back to normal. I know it takes time.Thank you, Lorrie, for reading and commenting but also for your thoughts and concern.The family is making progress, but it is slow.
Ken! Amazing imagery! I felt like I was a member of the crowd! Thanks for sharing!Thank you, Laura.That is an awesome compliment for a writer, from a writer.
Beautifully written, Ken. This is a great read. Thanks for sharing this, and thanks also for your continued great writing during a troubled time. My thoughts are with you.Thank you so much, Michael. I really appreciate the sentiment and the support.
most curious,then curiouser and curiouser;(and I thought that My writings were out of this world!);AliceSir, I am humbled. I can think of no greater compliment that you could give.Thanks for stopping by.
Ken, I read the whole article. Like I told Paul, it is good to get the mind on something different sometimes. ThanksThank you, Rev. I was just letting off steam and having a little fun- tongue-in-cheek style!
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