Dedicated to my Bernie-loving friends

First, they would come for the guns.  That was obvious.

He had always expected that to happen.  He was surprised that it hadn’t happened during the Obama years–the international left-wing cabal must’ve been even craftier than he suspected.  The Trump years were a relief, although he knew the deep state never stopped working for evil.

But now, the unthinkable had happened, and that Bernie guy had won the presidency.  Goddam commie.  How was this possible?  Sure, President Trump–Trump would always be *his* President–he had made a few missteps.  The recession and the massive tent cities were bad PR.  And that incident with Angela Merkel, the one which caused a break in diplomatic relations between US and Germany–people thought that was a big deal, although who needs Germany anymore?  They should be taking better care of their local Muslims, he muttered.

So now, Barfie was President.  Brokie?  He really needed to come up with a better nickname for him.  He had a lot of fun with “Obummer” during Barack’s tenure, but he just wasn’t feeling as creative right now.

Anyway, now was not the time for fun–it was time to be vigilant.  Thank goodness he was self-employed and mostly worked from home, so he only left the house when absolutely necessary, and never unarmed.  Fox News kept him informed about the goings-on in the outside world–the Great American Crisis, as they called it.  He had started seeing black and brown kids walking around his neighborhood.  What were they up to?  Where did they come from?  Another sign of the times he was living in.

It would be gradual.  First, taxes would go higher and higher, so they could fund all those government programs.  He already had some dumb bitch at his door a few days earlier, telling him about a public health care program he could sign up for.  It would be less expensive, she said.  He slammed the door in her face.  He was no fool.

Soon, they would want everybody to stop driving.  He remembered when they built that light rail line near his house.  He had known that was trouble even back then.  If these people had their way, everyone would be riding a bicycle.  And if they couldn’t force him to bike, he would end up on some stupid train with a bunch of loud and smelly assholes who didn’t speak English half the time.

Then the final blow:  they would come for the homes.  These leftie planners didn’t like the suburbs with the big yards and parking lots.  They would take the houses and move everyone into tiny apartments in the city, so that the space could be given back to nature, or some stupid shit like that.  Not that he hated nature.  He had hunted since he was a little kid.  Animals had been created by God as a special gift for man’s enjoyment, and he appreciated that.

By the time they would take his house, the gun confiscation program would have been completed, so he would either be dead or in prison by then.  At least he hoped so.  He didn’t want to be around to see this.  Although he was planning to put up a hell of a fight before he went out, that was for sure.

Once they got all the people crammed together in the city, they would be easy to control.  Then the social engineering could really get rolling.  The only jobs available would be in government-owned factories and stores.  No freedom at all.  Going to church would be forbidden.  Women could be ordered to get abortions.  Hell, they would probably outlaw soda and fast food, and make the sheeple eat a mandatory vegan diet.  He shook his head at the thought.

The day of reckoning hadn’t come yet.  But it wouldn’t take much longer, he figured. And when it did, he would be right here waiting for it, with his television on and his gun in his hands.

 

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