Literati!“When I find myself in Times of Trouble, Sal Buttaci comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, ‘Let it BEE’.”
Here is Sal’s second entry into our contest You Didn’t Write That. Unlatch the word CONTEST from the menu bar and let us know what YOU didn’t write!
by Salvatore Buttaci, Flashsquire
The Skin Head Ethnic War, meant to whitewash an America gone dingy, was short-lived. Horrifically final. Prisons filled beyond capacity, our jailers the huge radioactive wasps that hovered before us, simple eye to eye, beating black transparent wings. Grilling us in polyglot tongues.
“Usted no escribí eso,” one droned, but I would not react. It was simply one more foreign snippet to uncover whatever ethnicity I’d hope to conceal. But the neo-wasps were persistent as their bald masters.
Now closer, antennae brushing my forehead, mandibles testing the softness of my lips, it spoke again. “Tu non hai scritto quello.” Then, “Du hast das nicht geschrieben.” I stood like the proverbial captured fly but I would not yield. I could hear the whirr of the stinger.
Purify America? Liberate from these hellhole prisons only those descendants of colonial America who would this time keep the nation white, shut the doors to and from a truly United States?
You didn’t write that. You didn’t write that. I let it run circles around my head.
The man-size neo-wasp spat the words, “Vous n’avez pas écrit ça,” but I would not break. “I’m an American,” I said, raising a proud middle finger. “Wasp this!”