Girl Walking on Wall
The wall in front of the girl was infinite. It was black with pink edges, and over its edge was an unending horizon of blank nothingness. And yet this young schoolgirl, her miniskirt flowing in the inexplicably-blowing breeze, straddled along the corner of the wall and paced down its forever-long pathway.
The searing light of the sun beat down on the cracked ground of the borderlands. There was not a cloud in the sky nor a tree for miles around to offer momentary respite from the hateful glare. Only sand and salt spreading on into the horizon. Yet I soldiered on, because I am a builder. It was men like me who built the great wonders of this world. The Great Wall of China. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Trump Tower. The Colossus of Rhodes. All of them trophies thrust into the face of a jealous and spiteful god, unwilling to admit that his creations had surpassed him. I laid down another brick and spread a layer of mortar on top of it. I looked back, to millions of places where I had performed that same monotonous action. I could no longer see the end.
“And that, my fellow Americans, is why black people smell funny,” Donald Trump said into his microphone. The audience erupted into a deafening crash of noise, equal parts cheers and boos. He looked at them with a smirk, shrugging off the protests of his opponents both literally and figuratively. “You know what I’m gonna do? I’m going to build a wall to keep all the Muslims out and I’ll make the President of ISIS pay for it!”
“Mr. Trump…” the moderator tried to get his attention.
“And seriously, what’s the deal with those gays?” Trump continued.
“Mr. Trump. Your time is up, we have to move-”
“I mean, I’m surprised that Senator Graham’s stance on gay marriage is so strict. All I’m saying is that I expected different, ya know? With that voice of his?”