[Election ‘016 063] Bernie Time

[Election ‘016 063] Bernie Time


Bernie Time



The one-tenth of the one percent must fall.

That was the single most important phrase that Jesse and his fellow comrades-in-arms needed to remember, to memorize, to take to heart. It was the sacred mantra of Bernie Sanders’s great army– the Sanderistas.

Jesse stood at the gates in front of the war camp. It was guarded by sixteen MoveOn.org staffers, dressed in full battle armor at all times in the case of an attack by Big Business. He wanted to be one of them when he was a child, more than anything. But ever since Bernie came into the game, he realized that his services were needed elsewhere; they were needed in the battlefield.

He walked into the main tent with the strategists and looked at the massive map of the United States. Several pins were dotted over the state of Wisconsin, indicating where the main forces were combatting the voters and taking them hostage with their allegiance to the cause.

It was always a strange situation, this election. They had not one task, but two. One was the win the Presidency and ascend to the ultimate power in the country, thus proving that progressive values and a strong government could power the nation forever. The other, however, was to overthrow the capitalist bourgeoisie that controlled the country once and for all.

It was Bernie Sanders who could do it, and nobody else. Certainly not the oil baron Hillary Clinton, and probably not Lincoln Chafee either if he were still running. Just Sanders and his Sanderista Army.

Jesse met with Bernie Sanders in the tent. He was wearing pearl-white robes and was adorned in a crown of amethysts. Jesse bowed down and put his head onto the grass below him. “Sir Sanders,” he said. “I want to know what our next plan of action is. Are we to attack Madison in the morning?”

“No,” Bernie answered.


“No.” Bernie raised his hands into the air. All that were not bowing already dropped to their knees immediately. “I am to enact the final phase of my plan to rid the world of the one-tenth of the one percent that own half the wealth in this country!”

Everyone, including Jesse, was in awe.

Bernie began to rise into the air. “Wall Street is not the only part of society that will become occupied!”

“What are you doing, Sir Sanders?” Jesse shouted.

“I’m ascending to the next plane of existence!” Sanders said, his voice now multiplying sixfold. “I am going to travel to a realm where the poor get richer and the rich get poorer, where the wealth of the one-tenth of the one percent is merely one-tenth of one percent of the wealth of this country! I will change reality for the better!”

There was a flash of light, and Bernie Sanders was gone.

Jesse and the other Sanderistas never knew what happened to Bernie Sanders after that. They never saw him again, not in this plane or any other, no matter how far they looked. But, in searching for the reality nexus that would allow them to see him again, the Earth entered a new technological age that brought an end to useless wars and destroyed wealth inequality among all citizens. The bourgeois disappeared within three generations, just as Bernie Sanders himself did, all those years ago.

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