Dripping slabs of watermelon are handed to overheated children, and hailstorms rip through vinyl siding.
Citizens go rooftop, and scream for rescue as floods wash out roads, spinning wild-eyed cows down the slipstream.
Lightning sparks, and spreads flames and smoke across the arid southwest.
If this were Disney, there’d be minimal carnage
(bad guys, and maybe one inspirational elder).
Weeks later, all damage repaired, we cut to the hero’s parade.
Our heroes grin modestly and salute the golden pig.
Cool dark glasses hide his blindness.
Behind closed doors, our Bacon Beacon signs another dismantlement order.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2017)
Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction (07/06/2017): In 99 words (no more, no less) write about a beacon. It can be from a lighthouse or other source. Use the word literally or figuratively and go where the prompt leads you.
Microfiction Madness (06/27/17): Write a 100 word or less story or poem about an endless summer. Include the words melon and blind pig.
Thank you. I like when political poetry helps us feel the reality.
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Great imagery and chilling portrayal of the insanity unfolding before us like a bad movie. Our bacon beacon dismantles and blinds the fans. That he even has fans is most troubling.
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This blind pig sounds familiar. Great imagery, great flash!
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Thank you, Deborah!
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