Gorging on Anger


The Daily Post word of the day—GORGE

“Come, follow me,” the chef said. “A feast is going on. I will set the table before you and it will be spread with treats and delicacies you never thought you’d taste again. I know that for a long time your needs have been neglected. Rejoice, your day is here!”

The people came and formed long lines. The banquet hall was alive with riotous screams and frenzied shouts. There was much pushing and shoving but they didn’t mind for they were of one mind and one purpose. To take back what had been stolen from them. Soon, the power, control, and recognition that was their birthright would be restored.

They held their knives, forks, and plates in their starving hands, ready to gorge on the bounty that would soon be theirs.

Long gone were the days when people could work, buy homes and American automobiles. Cars were being made overseas. Corporate jobs, shipped abroad where labor was cheap. No more quitting one manufacturing job today and securing another by the next morning.

Retirement that included a pension and social security were ghostly memories that had vanished like poofs of vapor. Gone were the days when college and specialized training were choices and not necessities.

This new America seemed difficult to maneuver. Those entrenched in the customs of privilege hardly recognized where to tread. People they’d formerly looked down on were now in positions of power and living their lives. Something was wrong with that picture. When had this happened? How? Someone would pay!

Then along came a chef who said, “I can restore it all. I can find all of your enemies and destroy them by the next day. Trust me!”

The chef tied his apron around his waist in a fancy bow. He placed a hat upon his head, and began to stir an empty pot. He fed his followers dreams of a life that once was— peppered by promises of power restored.

The people gorged themselves with both hands, but they didn’t grow full. They stuffed their hearts with hope, yet their dreams remain unfulfilled.

And even now that the feast is ending, and the chef has been revealed as one who’d never written a recipe of his own—had never been inside a kitchen before—his hungry hounds still follow him, snatching at the remnants of sweets which dangle from his retreating apron!

This morning, I found the poster on another bloggers site. https://juantetcts.wordpress.com and it provided the thoughts I needed to write the post today.


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Educator, Author, Blogger, and supporter of Independent Writers. One mystery novel, The Neon Houses, http://amzn.to/2kSqdPX. Find me on Twitter @boom_lyn.

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