The Fall of Lincon
"Tonight I will tell you of the fall of Lincon." Theo sat back against the old log and fished about for his crack pipe. "It was in January of twenty eighteen."
"The outrage had grow so great amongst the populace," The old man stuffed it with a small amout of the wild tobacco that grew nearby before ignighting it. "That they had taken it out on America's past."
"To the point where one side or another had torn down statues of men," A deep puff and a cough. "Who by one opinion or another had done greatly by some and poorly by others."
"No one had come near the statue." He looked about at the children setting down his pipe. "It had been fenced off long before and security guards posted."
"But as the Sun rise on that January morning," Theo scratched at his eye socket with his course finger. "It happened."
"Boom! An explosion and the statue pulverized," He fetched up his pipe again. "And the giant cracked white head rolled down the steps shattering further as it went."
"No one claimed responsibility," A puff and he emptied the pipe. "Though everyone blamed everyone else."
"Anyhow," Theo smiled at the attentive audience. "After that President Trump had all the protestors rounded up."
"Terrorists!" Theo the Storyteller pointed the mouthpiece at the kids one after the next. "And then he took their citizenship and deported them all."
"My mom says you're full of shit." A kid with dirt on his face drew an Irational instant hatred. "She says you blew it up."
"She does does she?" Theo looked at the kid to see if he knew his mom. Eventually he gave up. "Your mom talks too much."
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