Do you trust the word of a man who killed 262 children?
The camera opens on a shot of a slumped over Demos sitting inside what appears to be the crow’s nest of an old ship. The ship rocks back and forth slightly as the camera remains perfectly still. A few moments of silence pass before Demos lifts his head and stares directly into the camera with disdain.
I’m talking to YOU, Thaddeus Duke, just like your grandaddy does. From the other side of existence. From the dark underbelly of the human condition. From the drifting nethers of the void.
The camera backs up a bit as Demos rises to his feet and approaches the edge of the crow’s nest. Demos looks down at something out of view of the camera. Demos shook his head from side to side softly, his oily brown hair brushing against his face from the motion.
Do you know what I see from my perch atop these drifting seas of nothingness, Thaddeus?
Demos lifted his head and stared into the camera
I see the crimes of your family. The crimes that have been hidden from the light of day. The crimes that built your wealth.
Demos slowly lowered his gaze. Once Demos laid his eyes upon something outside of view of the camera he immediately turned away in disgust. Demos licked the tips of his fingers before wiping his hands against his pants. Demos walked to the other edge of the crow’s nest as the camera circled around him, keeping the masked man’s face in the center frame always.
It is bloodlines like yours that fill these rivers with the souls of the damned. It is bloodlines like yours that must be purged from humanity to be reborn, cleansed and reformed into the image of a communist society.
It is bloodlines like yours that the Demos will make suffer.
Demos clenched his right fist as he looked down at his hand. A few seconds passed before he unclenched his fist and leaned onto the edge of the crow’s nest with both of his hands. Demos made eye contact with the camera as he spoke.
I ask again, Thaddeus: do you trust the word of a man who killed 262 children?
Demos let the question linger for a few moments. He cocked his head to the side as he responded.
I get the sense that even you don’t know the answer to that question.
You let the words of a deranged child killer haunt you to this day. You are torn. You do not know if your grandfather is lying to you about your mother, about the cane, about the truths of your bloodline.
Your grandfather filled your head with lies since the day you were born. You have yet to cast yourself free from the yokes of his manipulation and emotional abuse. Your father was never able to break away from the mental shackles Asmodeus placed upon him. Lies about your mother, lies about why his cane, lies about his excommunication from the Church.
How many of Asmodeus’s lies are you going to continue to believe, Thaddeus? Will you continue to believe every lie he told you, or will you pick and choose which lies you believe based upon convenience? Based upon what you can bear to swallow?
He told you he was a great religious leader who enlightened the downtrodden. He lied to you.
He told you your mother deserved to die. He lied to you.
He told you he was not cast out from the Church for pedophilia. He lied to you.
He told you his precious cane was once George Washington’s. You suspect he lied to you.
You have approached your senses before, but every time you get there you retreat back into the safety of uncertainty. You do not know the answer to the questions we both seek. It is only the graveyard grip of your manipulative patriarch that keeps you from comprehending your own identity. Your grandfather was an evil character. He created an evil church that ensnares the weak and innocent into a position of gullible vulnerability. Your grandfather, and everything he touched, ought to be destroyed by the righteous flames of truth and justice.
When will you remove your mental blinders and see the truth that’s staring you in the face, Thaddeus Duke? How much longer will your grandfather’s grave cast a dark shadow over your mind?
If you can’t get your grandfather out of your head, Thaddeus Duke, then I’ll have to beat him out of you. Just like I beat a handful of memories out of ol Sebastian’s skull last time I saw him!
Demos smiled beneath his mask as he pushed himself back from the edge of the crow’s nest. Demos looked back into the camera as he steadied himself atop the rocking boat.
You know Thaddeus, your attempts to get underneath my skin have never seemed to faze me. But I know I can get inside of your mind. I know I’ve been inside of your mind before, that I’ve consumed every ounce of your mental facilities. What else could you have been thinking about while I was lynching you from a ladder? You were only thinking about the Demos and the pain I cause.
Demos laughed heartily before looking back into the camera.
So you say the most embarrassing loss of my career was a throway match to the three time former champion and founder of BOB? I can live with that. I can still get my revenge on him.
But you lost to Oswald too, didn’t you, Duke?
Well, if Oswald is not YOUR most embarrassing loss…..who is? Perhaps, after Wednesday night, you shall consider it to be the loss you suffer to the Demos!
Not because of who you lost to, oh no. The name of the Demos will be legend.
You will be embarrassed, Thaddeus, because of what your defeat will mean for you. You will be embarrassed, ashamed, and humiliated for the rest of your life after the Demos leaves limp and broken inside that ring tomorrow night.
When the demos breaks your spine you will have your life forever altered. It will be as if an Israeli rocket fell right upon your home and left you broken in two. Be prepared, Thaddeus Duke, for once the Demos breaks your spine you will never feel your legs again. You will never walk to the ring again. Frankie will always look down on you, both figuratively and literally.
Will you be able to bear the shame the Demos will cast upon you?
Will the former universal champion be able to live as nothing but a weakened cripple? Helpless? Reliant upon others to make his meals and wipe his ass? I suspect, in fact, that you just may be amenable to such arrangements. You’ve been relying upon others to feed you and take care of your dirty business for years.
I hope you’re ready for warfare tomorrow night, Duke.
Demos approached the edge of the crow’s nest and looked down once more. Demos rocked back and forth as the ship swayed from side to side. Demos grimaced before looking into the camera one last time.
I know I will be.
Demos turned away from the camera and began the long crawl down from the crow’s nest. The camera panned out to show a horrific scene. Ebony waves slammed against the hull of the ship, sweeping dark water onto the deck. The bodies of hundreds of Iraqi children swayed atop the deck, moving as the waves crashed against the ship. Some of the limp bodies spilled over the edge of boat. Others merely flew from one side of the ship to the other. The bodies of some small children got caught in open spaces of the ship’s helm. Blood and black water washed down the side of the ship as it floated along the violent waves of darkness.
We see Demos slowly climbing down the central mast of the ship as the waves continue to rock against the boat. The scene slowly fades to black as we see Demos leap onto the deck riddled with dead bodies.
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Demos and Rel Dixon walked into the corner office of what was once an apartment building. Demos approached a window facing the marchers and opened it up. Demos leaned out of the apartment building and breathed in the fresh air. Demos closed his eyes and felt a sense of peace as he listened to the chants of the politically conscious.
“Free free Palestine! Free free Gaza! Free free West Bank!”
“From sea to sea, Palestine shall be free!”
“IsRAEL is not RAEL! IsRAEL is not RAEL!”
SMACK!
Rel Dixon laughed maniclly as she spanked Demos on the ass with a book off the bookshelf.
“Hey!”
Demos ducked his head inside of the windowsill.
SMACK!
Demos accidentally banged his head against the window as he brought his head back inside of the abandoned apartment. Demos rubbed the growing bump on his head as he looked over at Rel Dixon with great displeasure.
“What are you doing?!”
“Ohhhh I’m just playing, Demos! Did you want to spank me, too?”
Rel Dixon struck a pose so that her booty was directly in front of Demos. Rel bent over a little bit as he held the book against her chest and pressed her finger over her lips.
“I won’t tell anyone if you want to take advantage of the escaped asylum patient!”
“No, no, no, no! This will not do! You are a fine woman, a proud woman, I’m sure you come from a long line of great women who are so much more than just a sex obj-”
“Oh don’t even get me started on those bitches!”
“ects! You need not offer yourself to me as a sexual object to receive positive attention. I appreciate you for the woman you are, not for the fact that you are a woman. Now come, let us listen to the speech! I am sure it will be most insightful.”
Rel Dixon sighed and rolled her eyes in annoyance. She let the book drop to the floor and turned back to face Demos. Demos gestured for her to come stand near the window.
“I shall grab a chair so you will be more comfortable!”
Demos walked over to the chair on the far side of the room.
“I’d be more comfortable sitting on you...I’m just saying!”
Demos grabbed the chair and dragged it across the room. The wooden floorboards screeched as the legs of the chair scratched their way to the window. Demos placed the chair directly in front of the window before taking a seat in it. He looked up to Rel and gestured towards his lap. She smiled and clapped softly a few times before she placed herself atop Demos atop the chair. The odd couple looked out the window as a man with a microphone began to speak from a makeshift platform in the middle of the street.
![[Image: kImq5vxN_400x400-e1510756997854-1024x640.jpg]](https://static.timesofisrael.com/jewishndev/uploads/2017/11/kImq5vxN_400x400-e1510756997854-1024x640.jpg)
The crowd quieted to a murmur as the man in the keffiyeh began his speech.
“Thank you all for coming out so much to show solidarity with the Palestinian people! Their struggle as a people is one of the gravest atrocities of the 21st century. Their oppression is all too often ignored by the people making it possible, so it really does mean everything that you all came out here today to make your voices heard! The Palestinian cause can not be ignored any longer- anyone and everyone must raise their voice and speak the truth so that justice can be served!”
The crowd broke out into cheers as the speaker began to whip them into a frenzy.
“I want to thank the organizers of this event for inviting me out here to speak with all of you about this issue. For those of you who don’t know, my name is Miko Peled and I am the grandson of a Jewish colonizer who signed the declaration of the State of Israel. My father fought in the Israeli army as an active participant in both the 1967 and 1973 wars. I myself was forced into compulsory IDF service as a citizen of Israel.”
Light boos broke out through the crowd. The speaker smiled at the audience reaction.
“I know, I know: my regret runs long and deep. It is safe to say that I have seen the truth of this issue with my own eyes. I have seen it from every angle. The men in my family all participated in the wars to steal Palestinian land. They had their reasons. We had the stories, the myths, that we told to each other to make our actions conscionable.
I don’t shy away from my participation in the illegal occupation of Palestine. No one should. We are all culpable for the death and destruction Israel rains down upon Gaza. For those that do not know, your American government pays for the rockets that kill children. Your tax dollars, billions a year, go towards Israel’s military efforts.
Your tax dollars go towards war crimes against the Palestinians. You elect war criminals to public office. Men like Joe Biden and the late John McCain, so-called reasonable men from both parties, they all agree that Palestine is deserving of genocide. They work to make it so.”
“I don’t pay any taxes!”
“Me neither….”
“I don’t vote either!”
“But while we all share some responsibility for the suffering of Palestine, some of us are much more culpable than others! Some of the most powerful people in the world: CEOs, politicians, family dynasties, seek to actively make a profit off of the genocide of Palestinians.”
The crowd boos vigorously.
“Billionaires across the globe invest in companies like Raytheon and Lockheed Martin to help Israel manufacture hundreds of thousands of bombs, bullets, guns, and other child killing gadgets! Israel is always dropping bombs and taking shots at Palestinians, they’re one of the best repeat customers to have. The US Government writes Israel blank checks for military equipment, and all that money goes right back to the investors who financed the whole thing.
These same investors donate to political campaigns, they have dirt on everybody, they control all your senators. These billionaire shareholders can strong arm judges, politicians, pentagon officials- you name it! If these power players wanted to put an end to the genocide they could do it today. But they don’t. Because it’s not profitable to stop the war.
They need Israel to constantly resupply their munitions. It keeps the billions flowing.”
Rel turned back to Demos with a question.
“But what about the companies giving bombs to Palestine?”
“There are no companies arming the Palestinian forces! There aren’t even international businesses selling mochas and mountain dews in Palestine! Israel has the whole nation blockaded and cordoned off: it’s completely closed off from the international market! Iran supplies Hamas all the rockets they need because Hamas pays them, but because our Iranian cousins are truly kind souls with immense sympathy for innocent victims!”
“But Thaddeus said he was making money from both sides of the conflict!”
“This isn’t a conflict!”
“Well, from the war!”
“This is a genocide.”
“But Thad said he was playing both sides, so that he would always come out on top!”
“There are not ‘both sides’ to a genocide. The starving refugees can’t afford to fill Duke’s coffers, but even if they had millions stashed inside the rubble where their homes once stood, the Israeli blockade would prevent any trade from ever actually occurring! Ford Motor Company and BMW were not both sidesing the holocaust when they made their fortunes in the 1940s.”
“Wow.”
Rel Dixon nodded in appreciation of the Demos’s insights as the two of them turned back to listen to the special guest speaker.
“But don’t be mistaken: it is not just weapons manufacturers making a killing off of this genocide. All types of companies have reached their greedy hands into the pot! Real estate companies are buying up Palestinian homes and land while it’s still covered in the blood of the previous occupants. Computer software companies are making huge deals with Israel’s government to provide services to Israel’s civil society. All of these companies ought to be boycotted! It is the only way for change!”
The crowd cheers in agreement with the speaker. Rel begins rubbing Demos’s outer thigh with her right hand as she looks at the speaker in a state of semi-boredom.
“Israel must be treated like South Africa if there is ever going to be any hope for peace. We must boycott, divest, and sanction Israel! Israel must pay a fiscal and very real cost for their injustices against the Palestinian people. Companies must pull out of Israel, investors must refuse to send their money to Israeli backed companies, we must vote for and support lawmakers who will sanction Israel and end US funding for the Israeli ‘Defence’ Force. It is incumbent upon all of us to be conscious with our money and our voice, and use both to make a difference in this world! If we all just carry on, business as usual, we will have blood on our hands. The blood of millions of Palestinians.
This is a moral imperative. This is an ethical obligation we all share. Israel is an apartheid state carrying out a genocide, and many people are supporting it! Passively, actively, implicitly, explicitly, it’s all the same. The children of Palestine are crying out for peace and justice.
We must all choose to hear them!”
The crowd roars vigorously as the speaker whips them into a frenzy. Rel begins to stroke Demos’s beard absentmindedly as she watches the speaker. Demos turned his head to look at Rel, only to be caught off guard by the closeness of her barely concealed breasts.
“The zionist threat must be ended! Imperialism must be ended! We must boycott, divest, and sanction!
Free Palestine! Free Gaza! Free the West Bank!”
“Free Free Palestine!”
Demos tapped Rel on the shoulder as he looked up at the woman in his lap. She turned to look at Demos.
“About what I said earlier…...I think I may have been too hasty. You are a fine young woman, Rel.”
Rel smiled in excitement as she leaned back. She brought her arms around Demos’s shoulder and clasped her hands around the back of his neck.
“I knew you’d come around!”
The scene faded to black as the audio continued to play. A few seconds went by as various cheers from the crowd played over the black screen. Then, Rel interjected.
“Wait….what do you mean only a single kiss?!”
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