Nhoj Morley


Chapter 9: Babylon Be Praised



By the time the lads reached downtown Washington, the streets were snarled with determined marchers and stuck traffic. They had marched past the White House but it was dark and boarded up. Most of the town was dark except for the radiantly lit Capitol Dome. A huge crowd had gathered around the building all chanting and waving signs. The lads pushed their way through the marchers to reach the Capitol steps. Looking up at the dome, they could see a festive party going on of posh-ly dressed folks served by robots.
The Select of Washington stood on the balconies of the Dome sipping champagne and laughing as they waved to the marchers below. Bright spotlights came on and shined on the balcony just above the steps. Flash-pots exploded and then a fireball burst created a small mushroom cloud that rose upward to reveal the President. A hush spread through the crowd like a blast wave. The President held up his tiny hands and began to speak.
"You came here to hate each other and throw bottles and scream, right? You want to club those bad ideas out of each other's brains, don't you? Then you'll set fire to everything in sight that reminds you of the old ways. Don't let me interrupt the party. Get democracy out of your system tonight, and when you wake up tomorrow, you'll do what you're told."
There was a loud rumble as the building started to break apart around the portico. Marchers scrambled back down the steps in a panic. The President stuck out his chin and waited for the hubbub to pass.
"Shhhh. Calm down. It is sooooo easy to see from up here where you have your lines crossed. And now, as the Greatest Presidential Event There Ever Was Or Ever Could Be unfolds, I will watch you draw those lines tightly around yourselves… while I ascend beyond any tower or penthouse. As always, when I take a dump, you will be there to catch it."
Ahklem shook his head. "We're too late. How do we stop rockets?" Strumbozo wasn't ready to give up. "Ask around. See if there is anything we can use to mess things up!"
The President smiled and continued. 'You guys knock yourselves out. I just had a cabinet meeting with our new ten billion dollar sex-robot developed to fight the War on Terror. They say they'll have her fixed soon. They tell me I'm polarizing. I feel very polarizing right now." 
The marchers answered with a mixture of laughter and jeers. The party patrons laughed and jeered back at them. The President made a razzberrie and a tiny wave of his hand as he turned away behind another puff of smoke. 
Strumbozo turned to look for Ahklem, who was charging up the steps with an armful. "I'm going in there. Did you find anything I can use?"
"There wasn't much time. All I could round up from the marchers was a Doctor Who scarf and a bust of Ronald Reagan. Both properly licensed, too." 
Strumbozo grabbed the items and started toward the Portico. "These will have to do. You stay here. Tell the marchers with the sheets that we need them right away!"
Ahklem spat on the steps. "Why do we need them?"
"Not them, dummy, the sheets! Tie all the sheets together into one and get a circle of folks to pull it real tight. When he takes a dump, be there to catch it!" He took off running into the Portico which was now visible as a marble columned launching pad.
Ahklem yelled over the growing roar from the ring of rockets around the base of the Dome. "And what do we do with that?"
"He told you the secret, dummy! It's the lines!" The marble began to crack as the scarf is tossed and lasso's the inner balcony. Strumbozo ties it around himself and clutches the bust.
Ahklem stepped back as the Dome and Strumbozo begin to rise into the sky. "The lines?"


I come from out of the shadows
down underneath far from all this glory in the Heavens
I can't think and I can't breathe just standing here
humbled by your overwhelming presence
We'll hit the beaches… we'll come up fighting
We'll take the blame for it all
Until Old Glory stands on every flattened peasant
Praise Babylon and Hail be upon our Great Leader
A shake or salute, a wink or a nod,
it pays to be right with God
Praise Babylon with all of your last breath
We don't want anymore speeches
We've suffered a bad case of rhetoric constipation
We won't be making anymore disposable lives
or any binding arbitration
We like a steady job, a plot of bricks and sod
We like a room with a view
and a screen full of happy news
a team that will never lose might just do
Praise Babylon and Hail be upon our Great Leader
A shake or salute, a wink or a nod,
Pay to be right with God
Praise Babylon with all of your last breath
Hey, Mr. President! Do you see these little guys
underneath this Great Administration?
No, you'd rather smash your fists
into creeps and columnists
A hero of a new Holy War
Never speak the whole truth aloud
Until every knee is bowed or broken
Praise Babylon and Hail be upon our Great Leader
A shake or salute, a wink or a nod,
Pays pretty well to be right with God
Praise Babylon with all of your last breath