The America I Love (Short Story)

I really like this story and style. More to come in this type of format.


The America I Love

 

The world once ran in a confusing and badly managed way. Different newspapers ran conflicting stories, and journalists gave their own personal opinions. The intellectuals on top loved it; they argued all day long about symbolism in rap music and underlying racism in Kylie Kardashians line of armchairs. But for the layman, it was no fun. Instead of scintillating conversation, the average American found the discourse to be tiring, and the big-wig writers stuck up.

 

“We don’t care about your MFAs in french poetry and dance therapy! Just tell us what the weather is!!!” America shouted at the New York Times.

 

“No!!!” the New York Times said. “the weather is sexist!” The intellectuals rubbed their chins and said, “hmmm…”

 

And that was the end of that.

 

But the people grew restless. Ryan, the electrician, had enough. He really snapped July 12th, the day he spent twenty minutes sounding out every word in “I Hate Katy Perry and Here’s Why You Should Too”. There were some hard words. After he finished reading, he saw another article called “Katy Perry is the Susan B. Anthony of the 21st Century”. Ryan was pissed.

 

“Who is Susan B. Anthony?!” He yelled at the sky.

 

The sky yelled back, “We hear you, Ryan. And we understand.”

 

The government knew that something had to be done, or normal people all across the land would start bleeding out every hole in their heads.

 

“Then who would make me my flat white at Starby’s?” One senator asked, turning white with fright.

 

Everyone nodded in enthusiastic agreement, imagining the dire prospects of it all. They would pass a law, just this once.

 

So a proclamation was issued: Only one media outlet could cover any one new story. Only one article could be written about any one event. It would prevent conflicting ideas from being shoved in people’s face all the time.

 

“Phew!” America said.

 

“That’s not fair!” The press shouted

 

“Too damn bad!” The government retorted.

 

“Drat.” The journalists across the nation sighed. “They’ve got us there.”

 

Reporters scrambled across Los Angeles like headless chickens, sniffing out a leak of a new Beyoncé single, and mothers and fathers stayed glued to the phones at the dinner table, awaiting a Trump tweet to paste into a pre-written article of critiques. After one outlet scooped a scoop, the rest had to back off. It was the law, for goodness sakes. It was a real bummer for them, but honestly, no one really cared besides that. Things went super well from then on out.

 

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