There I was, sitting on the dock of the bay, when the thought came over me to shoot myself. Next thing I knew I was walking around in excruciating pain, but quite pleased with the perfect bulletholes in both my feet. As I was strutting proudly, I ran into a rather large lady who was insistent upon giving me a hug, which I shrugged off. Moments later I found myself in a well-lit room in an office building, in which stood a booth that was providing camping provisions. People lined-up and paid with some sort of blue stamp, the grimness on their faces giving off an actual odor of despair. After having a long and drawn-out conversation with an old man about the impending war, I took my leave to make my way towards Columbia University. As I walked, a young lady with a large umbrella approached me and asked me if I needed coverage; I accepted even though it wasn't raining. We proceeded to troop downtown for a few blocks, when she abruptly told me she had a fear of overpasses and took her leave. I then realized I was late for my appointment and the stress became overwhelming. Before I could sort out my plan of action, John Wayne himself ran out of the mist and kicked me in the stomach.
Words by Lee Greenfeld © 2017
Kill The Resisters woodcut by Jiang Feng, 1931