Dog Food and Terror- part one

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”




“What?” I spat blood on the vinyl tile floor.


“Names will never hurt me, you stupid bourgeois-”


Ouch. That hurt. Guess they were wrong.



It’s not like I saw this coming. I mean, who attacks a grocery store? I came in for dog food and coffee creamer. The bomb blew at the self-checkout. Then came the gun fire. Masked men shooting up soccer moms. For some reason I was kept alive, barely. There was a lot of punching and the sound of my bones breaking. Sadists.


Who were these terrorists? The list of possibilities was long. Terrorism is a popular career nowadays.


“We’re the face of the Peoples Egalitarian Revolution,” said the leader. He was speaking to a handheld camera.


The face of what? Communists? Who knew they even existed anymore? Does everyone want to annihilate capitalism?


“We’re here to oversee the redistribution of wealth from the bourgeois pigs like this…”


He was talking about me. I could tell because the back of my hear was yanked, forcing me to face the camera. Blood poured into my eyes.


“… he even wears the uniform of the bourgeoisie…”


Of all the days to wear a tie. That’s what I get for dressing to impress the girl in accounts receivable.


“I’m not bourgeois,” I mumbled. “I just have great taste in fashion. I barely make above minimum wage.”


“Liar! Wealth is a matter of perspective.”


My jaw cracked and I was white with pain. The guy who hit me sneered.


“Our revolution grows. It cannot be stopped. Join us or face the wrath of the People.”


I laughed. A jolt of pain accompanied the sound of another crack from a kick in the ribs. It hurt to breathe. The leader rambled on and on. All I can do is focus on the pain. I’m too tired to speak. Too tired to resist. Even dying seems too hard.


Everything got hazy. Two of them try to lift me to my feet. That’s when I learned my left leg was broken. This time I blacked out. Hopefully for good.


As my mind faded to black I felt the force of a blast.


About vanyieck

There is nothing about me that is more interesting than you. I am a man. I have a wife and family. I have a career. I have two dogs. I
This entry was posted in communism, Communist, dog food, fiction, flash fiction, short fiction, short story, story, storypraxis, terror, terrorist and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Dog Food and Terror- part one

  1. Janet says:

    Even in your serious plots I must laugh….’Of all the days to wear a tie. That’s what I get for dressing to impress the girl in accounts receivable.’ I need to put your link in my side-bar:) I have not figured out how to do a blog roll.

  2. vanyieck says:

    I smiled to myself as I wrote that.

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