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Let Them Eat Steak
by Aaron Troye-White

“Darla! He said he was just being sarcastic! Just giving a finger to the liberal media.” Clint clapped his hands once and guffawed. “Trump got the fake news good.”

“So, what am I doing with all this bleach?”

“Bring it to the rally. Trump said it works outside the body.” Clint looked over to his daughter shading in the letters on the poster-board. “Sign's looking great! 'My body, my choice.' That's just perfect. Government ain't gonna tell us what to do. Time to get back to work.”

Clint was sick of it. Sick of the pandemic. Sick of the masks. Sick of people demanding free money. Sick of China stealing their jobs, giving us disease in return. People need to put in hard day's work. No more handouts. He didn't give up when he flunked high school, he found a job at the glue factory. He didn't become a cuck when Obama closed the factory down, he started educating himself on all the injustice towards rural, blue collar, REAL MEN like himself, and did his best to educate the world through the comments sections, using all capitalized letters so everyone could read it clearly. He collected welfare, sure, but it was his due because he'd diligently paid his taxes for the full five years he was employed, unlike those illegal Mexicans, getting checks for twice as much and mailing it across the border to the cartels.

“Dinner smells terrible.”

“Clint, I already told you, Walmart was out of meat.”

“How many times do I gotta tell you? We got meat.”

“We ain't doing it.”

“The 'rona gonna get her anyway.” Clint walked over to his mother-in-law and started waving his arms. “Myrtle! You don't care if we eat you, do you?”

The old woman just stared forward through her coke-bottle lenses as Fox News blared. Her face just screamed, “kill me now.”

Clint plopped back down, not before grabbing his can of Keystone from the table. “She ain't said a word since autumn 2016. She just wasting away. Every day we don't eat her, she losing good meat. Three weeks, no bacon, she'll be just skin and bones.”

Easy for you to say. Your mom died when you were a kid.”

“Yeah, and only I shed one tear, and dad whooped me for it. No use being sentimental. Our daughter's not gonna starve to death. We'll eat grandma's ass first!”

“Well, she did vote Obama.”