Alien Agreement

This was inspired by a writing prompt from The Facebook group Writer’s Island
*Disclaimer*: This a work of fiction and in no way do I condone the use of violence against any politician. This is what I imagine may happen in an extreme circumstance.

“Mr. President, the people will not stand or this!” The man in the finely pressed suit stood before the desk in the Oval Office pleading his case. The President sat with a diet soda in hand slurping it down, paying no mind. “Sir!” The man exclaimed. The Portly man behind the desk sat up in his chair. No longer slumping, his beady eyes shown with shrewdness and cunning.

 “I will not be told what I can and cannot do!” The President yelled in a sudden rage.

The man in the suit tried to change tacks, “Mr. President, if we allow these things to eat our children the people will revolt.” He tried to maintain his calm.

The President had gone back to his soda and waved him off, “It’s only every third child born, and they promised to give us resources, technology, to make me richer, to make me king.” The man in the suit sighed, he knew this megalomanic didn’t care for anyone but himself.

Suddenly several secret service agents burst into the room, “Mr. President, you must come with us immediately!”

The bulbous man rose out of the fine chair and demanded, “What is all this!” With the door open the sounds of shouting came into the room.

“Sir, we must move you immediately,” the agent implored. The President was grabbed by the other agents and forcibly they started down the hall.

The sounds of shouting intensified and the President started to turn pale, “What’s going on?” He tried to ask, but the agents didn’t respond and continued to pull and push him. They came out a side door and onto the East Lawn, Marine One was sitting there silent. Its engines off the propellers still and tied down.

“Wait, why…” The President started to ask and then saw the gallows. He heard the crowd roar as they came into view. Hundreds of people screaming his name and crying for blood. He started to fight against the agents holding him, but because of his years of sloth, he was no match.

As he was dragged forcibly to the rope, his screams intensified as did the cries of the crowd. He was in tears as the bag was put over his head. And without any other ceremony, the lever was pulled and he dangled for a few moments twitching and then went still.


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