The Lint Screen

Ready for action. I see it all so clearly now.

They’re out there. Somewhere. Out there. I listen closely and can almost hear their dirty commie lung winds being exhaled. I sit and wait. Sit in the dark. Waiting. My finger is perched atop the trigger of a semi-auto bolshevik repeller. I am not afraid to use it. I’m surrounded by ample munitions, Doritos, gummy worms and Red Bulls. Hmm, “Red” Bulls. Maybe I am falling into their trap. Maybe this is their elixir, their pinko poison. Do I question capitalism and democracy? No, no, I embrace and love these like a kitten loves her warm mittens. I am safe. The Red Bulls are safe. I think. I think the Red Bulls are safe. But then maybe that’s what they want me to think. Yes, the ol’ logic switcheroo. Just to be safe, I’ll lay off the Red Bulls. I’ll sit, listen and wait. Are they here? I don’t know. The news said Russians invaded Georgia, but so far I haven’t seen a trace of Trotskyites. I wonder. If they are here, where the hell are they? I wonder. Sitting, waiting in the dark. Need a gummy worm, bad, real bad.