The Entitled’s New Clothes

By Author Mike Rough

Thought the entitled, though it seemed not to matter, the economy in tatters,
with aliens that it had to feed, its muscled might atrophied,
choking on federal excess, foreign wars, and IMF largess,
barbarians at the border it seemed “A new set of clothes are in order.”

Enter the tailor and his entourage, dashing, smooth, the embodiment of courage.
His crafty assistants and aides spreading out fabrics of silk, tassels, and brocades.
A dazzling display not to miss, the embodiment of true promise.

The entitled clap their hands and smile. “It is truly a magnificent pile.”
The tailor nods and aids gesture with pride. Ask the entitled “Is there enough to cover our bums oh so wide?”
“Can we do it?”

The tailor smiles wide, his lips pulling back with teeth as white as a great shark attack. “Yes We Can!” he states boldly. “Why, we can make you all feel better, it’s not your fault your clothes are in tatters.”

Pointing the tailor exclaims “It’s the baker, butcher, and the candlestick maker, they make the money, they fill the racks, then take all your gold and give none of it back.”

Incensed, the entitled declaim “Yes! They take all our money, and give nothing back, it’s time we take our share of gold from their sacks.”

Off went the tailor and his whirlwind of aides, to set up shop and plan the first stage.
The tailor pats their backs and says “Don’t worry, I know your uncle, and we will take care of you.”
Said the tailor “You have no money so here’s what we’ll do, we’ll make some right up with our magic bank tool”.

In comes the banker, a wizard of funds, who creates something from nothing, holding hostages without guns.

Carols the banker “All I need is a note to start the ball rolling, I treasure the chance, and interest in tolling.”

“I have one right here” replies the tailor “from those who know best, our good friends with whom we regularly congress.”

With note in hand the banker departs, to get thread and needles to create the great tarp.

The weeks go by without a word, the entitled are mumbling, yet nothing is heard.
“You promised us clothing, meat, and good drink. Our loans are foreclosing, we are drowning in ink!”

“Why do you worry? The solution’s not far! Move things along and go buy a car!”

“With what?” ask the entitled. “We are mired in debt!”

Replies the tailor, “I’ll give you a credit!
Swap your old clunker for something efficient, four grand in your pocket should be quite sufficient.”

Slightly mollified the entitled depart, to go find conveyances at the vehicle mart.

Says the tailor to his aides, “What shall we do, the banker has not produced currency anew. The economy’s stalled and the bailout too, should we spend more money to lengthen the trews?”

The aides ponder the question, and the entitled come back, honking and waving, in Nissan hatchbacks.

“We’re not sure if we own it” the entitled declaim. “The computers kept crashing, ’tis totally insane. They took our old clunker and bashed it to bits, then told us the computers had been on the fritz.”

“Do not worry!” cries the tailor with waves, and great shouts “Patience, patience, it will all be sorted out.”

A new group of people now enter the fray, some young, some wed, and some of them gray.

“We’ve lost our jobs, since real estate failed, the banks are not sharing the money they’ve bailed. There are 500 hundred of us for every one hired, we dread the day we are laid off or fired.”

“We were here first!” exclaim the entitled. “We picked this horse, and we have it bridled.”

The tailor gets and idea, snapping his fingers, and it was first rate: “How about a credit to buy real estate?! Eight thousand dollars should do the trick, but if you’ve bought some before you’ll be up a crick.”

Less enthusiastically the entitled retreat, fighting over who will get the front seat, not fitting at all in that new import hatchback, the ones who are left out, start to attack. “This is not what we wanted, this isn’t the norm, I want some assistance, let me fill out a form.”

At this the aides spring into action knowing with this method they can finally gain traction. “Fill this form, and this form, and this form out.” stamping them “Accepted, Accepted, Accepted” there isn’t a doubt. The aids keep them busy, being totally distracting, making the entitled ignore the situation protracting.

Then the forms ran out with many in line, it turned nasty, and ugly from the situation sublime. Some trampled others, stole documents and forms, or copied and sold them to other forlorn. With threats and shouts, and anger to boot, the aids made yellow copies to silence the brutes. They all walked away with some form of paper it’s true, some, white, some yellow, and even some blue.

Exhausted from form filing and stamping, a silence ensues except for some panting.

A small voice is heard, childlike and innocent, “I followed the banker and saw what he did, he dumped the money into a box and then shut the lid. He shipped it off to his other banker friends, to pay off their debts of which there is no end.”

The entitled then look around, no tailor, no aids, no speech to be found.

“Its worse than before!” the entitled then cry “What shall we do? The tailor has gone, taken our money, our clothes, and our guns too.”

The child pipes up “Go use your vote, only you can determine who captains your boat. Be careful next time to see past the talk, test them and see if or when they will balk, at doing what’s good and what’s right, instead of listening to those who take money and bring blight.”

At this the child departs, walking alone, sans trendy clothing, new car, or big home.

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This entry was posted on Monday, October 19th, 2009 at 5:17 pm and is filed under Authors, Entertainment, Mike Rough, Politics. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.