Monday, May 30, 2011

Emails #49: Pretty Spry For Eighty, Mr. Rogers


"Order. Order. This hearing will come to order. Honorable chair member Abraham J. Stensdale presiding. Let it be noted that these proceedings are open to the public but may be closed at any time. We call our first witness to testify and in accordance with his wishes, no counsel has been retained. Please place your hand on the bible and before the committee and the American people state your name, age, place of birth and occupation for the record."

"My name is Steven Rogers. I am eighty years old," a collective gasp comes from the gallery. "I was born in Manhattan, New York City and I am a veteran."

"Very well Mr. Rogers. You may be seated. Chair member Stensdale will offer brief remarks and then we will open for questions. This inquiry is simply to ascertain the facts as presented in affidavits before this committee. This body does not have the authority to press criminal charges although all testimony is considered sworn under oath and is a matter of public record. "

Red Skull stands watching a
bank of huge televisions. "Oh how heart-warming. All your wonderful patriots lining the streets to show their devotion and appreciation for all you've done for them." Beaten and bloody, Cap hangs from massive chains in the dank dungeon.Two leather clad vixens pose with whips. On the television is the news, crowds hold anti-Cap signs, chant and shake their fists. "Look up now, this is my favorite part!" On the TV, Cap stands with his hands out, pleading for the crowd to calm themselves. The crowd surges forward. Some jump at him and hit him, others are simply forced forward, eventually overtaking and trampling Cap. "Ahh! In sixty years, I've not been able to do that!"

"Rogers, is this, THIS what your precious liberty is for? Is this the product of your freedom? Ha! It's all a fantasy: freedom. Sheep blindly obeying their masters. We move the prism a tiny bit and even worship can turn to hatred. Mien Fuhrer proved that. The only thing people really understand is structure, mien friend. Give them structure and they will love you. Purpose, clarity, strength, beauty. These are what people need. Freedom is just a dream. One people simply cannot comprehend. Spitting in your face, now that. That they understand."

"It's not a dream." Cap whispers.

"What's that?"

"Freedom is no dream. It's real. Your Fuhrer suffered the truth of that."

"Mien Fuhrer suffered from nothing more than self-loathing. A mistake I will not repeat."

"You look pretty spry for eighty, Mr. Rogers. What is your secret?"

Camera pulls to 3/4 angle MS Steve Rogers' face.

FLASH: Rogers, a weak 17 year old, being held down by four big MPs. ECU The plunger on a hypodermic. Doctor reading machine. "Nothing." Pause. "Increase the dosage!" Steve turns his head and grimaces.

Cut to court room, MS Steve's face.

"Government medical program." Committee room erupts in laughter.

"I should kill you right now Rogers. You have proven to be as slippery as an eel. I am going to hold onto the moment however..." The vixens take turns licking his blood and then literally pouring salt into Cap's wounds. Skull stops his pacing. He faces the bank of TVs with his back to Cap. "I need to prove to the world that I am superior to you and your weak melting pot genetics. The Furher's dream and my personal vision of a master race will come to fruition. The mixed and impure races will bow before me and usher in an age of limitless potential. I want you to see it happen. When the time comes, I want you to genuflect before me and beg against your soul for my mercy."

"Never, Skull... " Cap spits the words out and glares at his enemy through heavy eyes.

"Have you ever been a communist, a member of a terrorist organization or been accused of treason Mr. Rogers"

"No sir."

"Need I remind you that you are under oath. The penalty for perjury has been clearly stated and your refusal of counsel is not an excuse to waste this committee's time. I will ask you again. Have you, Steve Rogers ever been a communist, a current or former member of a terrorist organization or have you ever been accused of treason?"

"No sir. I fail to see how these questions are relevant..."

"I have in my hands a list containing names with which you are undoubtedly familiar." The room becomes a hush of whispers.

Skull in CU. Licks lips. "I have you right where I want you Cap ol' boy. Your blessed American people are revealed as nothing more than a deranged mob."

"You'll never get away with this Skull." Cap's voice is weak and he is bent over as the two vixens kick him relentlessly with their high heeled boots.

"I already have my old foe. I have won! Soon it will be time to unveil the master stroke. It truly will be glorious to behold. Let him get some rest girls. Tomorrow is a big day." The two vixens are standing with one foot each on Cap's back. They exchange a long kiss as we hear Cap's shallow breath.

Writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives lies a mystery. Writing a book is a long, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painfull illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven by some demon one can neither resist nor understand.

-George Orwell

-No hero is immortal until he dies.

-W. H. Auden

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