Mr. C Moordock Rutop, CEO of Worldmart, the largest corporation on the planet, stared out the window of his 100th floor penthouse office. The crowd gathering below in the plaza for the protest looked like ants scurrying around. Even at this height, Rutop could discern some of the signs the protesters were carrying: Murderer, Polluter, even Pedophile were clear as a bell. Well, of course he was all those things; and even more about which the protesters had no idea. To get to the the level he was at in the corporate world, one had to do many despicable things. At least they would be considered despicable to the majority of the human race, but not to Rutop. It was all simply a matter of doing business.
The stage was finally complete and a man with long hair stepped up and began chanting into a bullhorn, “Protect the Planet, Stop Rutop…” That went on for a few minutes then the hippie with the bullhorn switched to, “No More Dick . . .” That was not a new taunt for Rutop. At prep school, one of the upper class-men had started that particular tease. It was easily ignored, so the classmate switched it up to, “See More Dick,” at which point he pulled down Rutop’s trousers. Of course the entire school saw a laughed. Rutop kept his composure, but two weeks later, that upper class-man mysteriously disappeared. The authorities never thought to dredge the quarry. If they had, they would have found that pompous dolt at the bottom, cut into a dozen pieces.
Rutop turned away from the window long enough to pick up the phone and make a brief call. Once concluded he returned to gaze upon the gathering of angry people in his honor. In only a matter of minutes, sirens could be heard approaching the plaza. In short order the city’s tactical response team arrived along with a few dozen city cops and several emergency response trucks. The protesters saw what they were going to be up against, but to their credit – or doom- they maintained their ground. For a few minutes the teams set up their perimeter, attached the water cannons to the building’s fire suppression systems, and cordoned off traffic. Then on some unseen signal the cops and tactical teams moved in on the protesters. The water cannons were unleashed causing a majority of the people to run or be knocked down hard by the spraying water. Those individuals that escaped the cannon’s fury were maced by the cops then put under arrest. In a very brief time, the protest was over, the protesters were rounded up and carted off, and the plaza was glistening with the remains of the water.
The protester’s squandered vision trickled down into the storm drain along with the water from the cannons. The only way to effect change was by ruthlessly forcing it. Change never happened peacefully. Rutop’s bloodless lips curled into a smile. Once again, he came out on top.
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This little docudrama was inspired by Stephanie’s Inspiration Monday. And this time I kept within the word count . . . barely. Why not join in?
There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.
No really; I need rules!
Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.
SEE IN THE DARK
Want to share your Inspiration Monday piece? Post it on your blog and then give me the link in the comments below (I’ll also love you more if you link back to me); I’ll include a link to your piece in the next Inspiration Monday post. No blog? Email your piece to me at stephanie (at) bekindrewrite (dot) com. (I do reserve the right to NOT link to a piece as stated in my Link Discretion Policy.)