Thursday, January 22, 2009

On the morning after the inauguration of the forty fourth president of the United States, an ominous stillness hung in the air, while a quick peek out the slider window served only to increase the sense of foreboding that began to flourish at the sight of the dull, leaden sky, hovering oppressively over the frozen landscape as if attempting to suffocate the inhabitants of the earth under the weight of its steel gray mass, unaware or careless of the the unsuspecting, slumbering victims below. Then, like a flash of lightning, the doom of man was sealed. The world lay broken; divided exactly in half as if divine providence had ordered it, signifying the end of the reign of humanity, the final hour of mortal kingdoms, the fate of the empires of the earth. Ah, it was too late now to weep; too late to beg mercy and attempt to buy time, for the end was come; swiftly, surely, silently, and unstoppable in its march towards infinity and whatever lay in that unknown path.
Who could help us now? What could fix a shattered world, brutally broken and lying scattered on the floor? But wait! A challenger has arisen! A challenger to the idea that the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world! She will attempt to stem the tide of fate, an attempt which, if succesfull, will leave the earth forever in her debt, kings at her mercy, empires bowing at her feet, obama in a cotten field. Deft fingers work rapidly, hands accustomed to fixing the mistakes and wanton destructiveness of others putting all they have into this ultimate test of skill vs. the inevitable. And then, as fast as the tragedy had come, it was over. The globe rested on the table, complete, round, smooth, spinning freely in its base, as if no disturbance had ever occured. And the saviour? The name at which the nations and history rejoice, and the guily tremble? She shall be called... ...Mom.