I sometimes have really strange dreams, like the ones where they build miles long slides on top of mountain highways to keep the snow off in the winter and as a tourist ride during the summer, but the one that woke me up this morning topped them all.
I was on a tour of the White House and for some reason Trump came out to meet the tour, and someone in the group used a garrote made from synthetic materials to kill Trump. It was really gross, the string almost decapitated him, and I was standing in the splash zone. Then the Secret Service started shooting people, because someone killed the *president, and I got hit 3 times. Then the guy who did it shouted “I did it! I prevented World War three!” And that’s when things got really strange.
He claimed he was from an alternate time line where Trump had managed to trigger Armageddon by invading Iraq, when forces crossed the border a small fission explosion went off in a close in suburb of Tehran. Who built the bomb, and who set it off were never determined because when it did nukes started flying like beachballs at a Beach Boys concert, laying waste to large chunks of the Middle East, Russia, Europe, (but not the UK), both North and South Korea, parts of Japan, large areas of the US, Canada, and Mexico, and even Africa. Before communications shut down there was speculation it was a Soviet-era suitcase nuke, because it didn’t make any sense for Iran to keep a nuke just outside their capitol and because it was such a low yield weapon. The only parts of the world not hit by fission or fusion bombs were Australia and Antarctica, and the guy that killed Trump said that the Mad Max movies were a Utopia compared to what happened in Australia. All food production was disrupted because seed stocks were destroyed along with pollinating insects and of course there was no fossil fuels to distribute what food there was
so millions died of famine, millions more died from diseases spread by the mountains of unburied corpses, because there were no fossil fuels to run the equipment needed open the graves, or to burn the corpses. Anyway as I said it was a weird dream.
And I think either Mrs. the Poet or I had really bad gas last night because I remember thinking Trump smelled really bad when he got killed. I’ve been downwind of fresh corpses from car wrecks, and they didn’t smell like that.
Witch on a Bicycle 