Middle School Story: A Speech
NOTE: This was a short story written in the first half of 2009, back when I was in 8th grade. It was a school assignment; I had to write a paragraph containing the weekly vocabulary words. Naturally, I went overboard and it ended up being quite long.
The car ran into a pothole as it cruised through the road. The third one in five minutes. They were headed into a very obscure part of town, he could tell.
Air Force One. It zoomed overhead as the President was supposed to be landing. But, of course, Mr. Barr, in actuality, rode in a shoddy 1973 Corvette. The Secret Service seemed almost completely paranoid these days, as a single terrorist threat would provoke them to extreme measures.
New York City. As the corvette turned into one of the numerous slums across the metropolis, Barr wondered. How could such vagrants meander into a perilous alley as this? It was no wonder that he himself won the election. These uniformed miscreants inundated into the polls and voted for the most sprightly-looking man on ballot, not caring about the issues that actually mattered.
Not that politics mattered much anymore. The malign Congress was getting more surly and controlling every week!
Ah well, President Barr thought. He was almost to the Trade Center, where the obstreperous crowd would pretend to listen to his tirade about the large amount of bogus money.
“Mr. President,” spoke the driver suddenly, breaking all silence in the car. “Please step out.” The car came to a halt, and he realized that the advent was no trade center, but a musty warehouse. The apex of the President’s life would end here, he knew. Several men in black suits, ex-Secret Service agents, came out of the warehouse, surrounded him, and shot him down. Shocked to the point of being unable to speak, Bob Barr could only listen to the treacherous driver.
“Okay men,” the traitor stated. “We’ll cover him up, and then burn this crappy building.” He then turned to the bleeding President. “Oh, and Mr. President: I am truly sorry, but your sacrifice was necessary. We couldn’t have prevented the Congress from taking over the government without it!”
“Wh…what…?” Barr tried to say as he was slowly dying.
“Well, we’ll have to take over the government ourselves, but the Congress will have to pay for ordering your assassination!” He pulled out a gun. “And with that, I bid you adieu.”