Trigger Warning: This story contains everything I hate about writing and may include horribleness that should not be read by anyone.
Authors Note: I’ll also be including some writers commentary so anything in <> should not be considered part of the story.
Rosie awoke to the shrill call of her alarm wailing like a garroted goose. She pulled back the covers and slid sensuously out of the silk sheets and pattered across the room, soft as a kitten, to regarded herself critically in the full-length mirror.
<Oh God I’m really going to do this>
Hands on hips she turned left and right examining her naked body in the mirror. She was thirty five but her diet and gym routine meant that she had the body of a twenty year old. She squeezed her ample breasts and smiled, feeling a thrill run down her flat stomach to her sex as she massaged her nipples. 34DD they were everything a man could want. Happy with what she saw, she turned to check out her perfect butt, which was firm as an under-ripe peach.
She let her hand wander down and brush through the thin line of hair above her clitoris, teasing herself for just a second before drawing her hand away. Much as she would love to she didn’t have time for that. The office was calling and as everyone knew if you didn’t go to work you were the worst kind of parasite. A looter stealing from the genius of visionaries like Mark Zuckerberg and Rupert Murdoch. People who were proven to be better than the average man by their ability to amass their great fortunes.
<Author vomits all down himself>
If she was a man Rosie would have liked to have been a man like Rupert Murdoch. Unfortunately by some terrible twist of fate she had been born just a woman and so she did what she cold to help her own visionary achieve his goals. Whatever it took.
<OK so let’s count the horrors… I make it six counts of terrible writing so far. If you find more I must just be putting the extras in unconsciously I’m not a terrible writer… honest.>
As she brushed her long, blonde hair Rosie turned her mind to the problem at hand. Her Bae was having a hard time at the office. The trade war had, almost overnight, turned into something more significant. It had started with protests in cities that were supposed to be their allies. There were protests wherever he went, effigies being floated above them or burned in front of them. Then the other countries he was bringing to heel like recalcitrant dogs stopped buying US product altogether! Well Bae had done the only thing he could do, he’d threatened to sell them things by force but that hadn’t worked out quite as he’d planned and instead of backing down they had sunk the ships full of iPads he had sent to sell to them. The nerve of those people in shit-hole countries pretending they didn’t want the superior US products…
<Any relation to real people is purely on purpose but this is parody so you can’t sue me you orange mugged goon. Also Bae!? Ugh what kind of word is that…>
To top it all off his wife was now giving him a hard time too. It didn’t make any sense! She should know that such a powerful, impressive man wouldn’t be satisfied with just one lover. I mean its not even like this was the first time, although she considered herself to be well above some of the porn star, trailer trash scum that he’d dallied with before. Anyway, that was just about relief, this was respect and love he’d told her so himself. Threatening divorce at a time of war? The bitch should be sent back to whatever hell hole she came from, she wasn’t even America after all.
Well she couldn’t solve the war or the wife but she could do her bit to spread his message, and that is exactly what she planned to do. She slipped into a fabulous dress that perfectly showed off her curves, grabbed her purse off the counter and headed to out of the door.
———————————-
Just as she arrived at the coffee shop her phone gave out a little cheap. She slipped it out of her black PVC handbag, and looked at the screen.
The War is on. Jittery Xi Jinping has crossed me for the last time. I’m going to Airforce One now to plan the attack. Don’t worry you’ll be fine we will destroy them in five seconds and anyone who says different is talking fake news. xoxo covfefe
So it was happening. Those traitors in the newsrooms had been reporting that US troops were on the move, denying her beloved his surprise attack, but she hadn’t expected it so soon. No matter, she had a job to do and that job was to drum up support for her Bae, after all it was an election year.
She opened the door to the shop and looked inside. It was a small space with four small tables dressed with flowery tablecloths. The floor was white and black tile in a chessboard pattern that lead up to a petite glass counter. The counter had a plethora of delicious looking pastries behind it including delicate danishes filled with colourful jams and creams that shone in the early morning light like so many colourful pebbles tossed into a verdant stream at sunset on a warm summers day.
<Well that was boring and didn’t add anything to the story…>
Above the counter the news was showing scenes from the war. Fighter jets crisscrossing the sky, tracer fire lighting up the darkness, soldiers pouring out of amphibious vehicles to spill out onto a sandy beach under a hail of fire and in the top corner the president. Smiling and waving as he boarded air force one, his trademark red cap on his flowing locks.
<Talking about a more interesting story than the one we’re telling? Classic.>
Rosie approached the counter where a pale-faced woman in her early forties stood with her eyes locked on the TV.
“I’d like get a coffee,” said Rosie after it was clear the slack-jawed idiot had noticed her.
The woman flinched like someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over her. “Of course, uh… take a seat and I’ll bring it right over.”
Rosie tutted but took the nearest chair where she leaned in to a greying old man who was also engrossed in the TV which was now showing live footage of missile sites in China opening.
“So what do you think about this election huh? The president is bound to win again right? I mean he is draining the swamp, rebuilding the middle class and doing it all while maintaining a handicap of -3.”
“There isn’t going to be an election! Aren’t you watching the TV those aren’t regular missiles the Chinese are firing they’re nukes.”
“Oh that’s fake news. What are you some liberal snowflake? No-one would dare!”
Outside the sky grew dark. The woman from ran out from behind the counter Rosie’s coffee forgotten. When she got to the door she screamed.
“Oh what is it woman?” snapped Rosie.
“Airplanes. There are so many of them.”
“Xian H-6’s by the looks of them,” said the old man now stood beside her looking up.
“Fake news,” snapped Rosie but a little of the fire had gone out of her now as she looked up and saw them for herself.
“It’s not news lady, it’s just happening.”
The lead Xian H-6’s bomb doors opened and mist of tiny black specks started to fall. Seconds later the other bombers started to drop their loads.
“Nothing bad can happen to me!” shrieked Rosie. “Don’t they know who I am? I’m too important. It’s fake news. Fake news!”
The black specks fell faster and faster growing bigger with each second. By the door the old man took the woman in his arms and patted her back.
“It will be OK. We won’t feel a thing,” he whispered into her ear.
“Fake news…” said Rosie with a shiver. “Fake news.”
<Fade to black…>
Novel Dreamers 