End The War, Already!

The three men of power sat silent in the tiny cubicle. Two of the men, one from country R and and one from country U, sat as far away from each other as the could. In the size of this cubicle, that meant they were still knee to knee. Dirty looks were passed between them. One would catch the eyes of the other, and they would both look away, only to return to each other and shoot glares of death. The middleman, a man from country I, sat between them on one side of the table, which meant on the other side, they were bumping elbows.

None of the men were handsome, though they were each dressed in expensive casuals. They wore ties, shirts, jackets, pants, and shoes all dull, boring, colourless. Blander than Ugali, really. What is Ugali? Get out your translator. Oh, wait, that’s why you’re here.

“Shall we begin?” the middleman asked the two adversaries, each in their own language.

The leader from country R cursed, “Yes, lets get on with this charade.”

The leader from country U sniggered, “Sure, sure.”

“We are meeting here today to bring an end to this ridiculous war that you are both hell bent on continuing,” said the middleman, again in each mans native language, this time reversing the order.

“Never! Never will I surrender to that, that bootlicking Bolshevik! He has signed onto the American plan of world domination. I will not have that filth running their mind control programs on my citizens. It would conflict with those we already run on our population. We use a different frequency of hertz projected from the technology screens to control their minds.,” exclaimed the leader from country R.

“You vodka drinking filth! We will not surrender to you! We prefer the Americans way of doing things. It is much more evil than anything your countrymen can think of and the people are so much more malleable.”

The middleman lowered his head, shaking it with an exaggerated slowness. “This simply will not do. What good is mind control of your populations when there is no population? Or worse, when the population realises each of your nefarious plans for them. People like to think for themselves and make their own decisions.” This time the middleman spoke in English.

The leaders from countries U and R sat in a stony silence glaring at each other. The war, you see, was always about control of their own population. The US was only feeding funds and ammunition to country U because they wanted to perform mind control experiments that American citizens would lynch their government for if they found out. They would need to occupy country U, just as they did Germany, to do this. If they could actually win the war, they could also then experiment on the people from country R, all for the greater good, of evil people in undeserved power.

The man from country I could see the bigger picture. Being a world leader, he was privy to the plans of the US. The man from country I was not worried, the US had already done its dash in country I, they didn’t want them back. But they did have to play along. There was a plan afoot, a quiet one, very subtle, slow moving, very double-agent sort of stuff, to wrest power away from some of the global elite who had grown too drunk on their own evil. They wanted a slave population. Forcing the slaves to revolt was not going to win them any favours.

There was already one courageous woman in the far, far country of Australia who had unshackled herself from the most evil form of mind control out there, without becoming evil and setting herself on the path of God. This woman would be valuable for the future, to show people that it was possible to move on from mind control. She had the asses, whoops, I mean masses, of her state being evil towards her, but you can not be so evil without consequences appearing. That is another story.

“Look,” the the man from country I reverted to each of the leaders native languages, “I understand you both enjoy being evil. This isn’t about that. There is plenty of time in the future to be evil in moderation. Now is not the time for extremes. If you both keep at this at this rate you will both lose your countries and your population to a greater evil than yourselves. Put your big boy pants on, both of you. This is serious.”

This time the leaders from countries R and U shot the Israeli a terrible stare. The man from country I was certain he could see the fires of hell burning behind both of their eyes. It didn’t surprise the Israeli. Every world leader had to sign on to the global agenda, which meant downloading a demon into their own bodies. The man from country I had ejected his demon, however, using specially crafted contacts to make it seem like he was still possessed. The thing is demons, themselves, had fairly big egos and a huge thirst for evil. It didn’t matter that they were all signed on to the agenda. Pissing competitions amongst them were common, irrespective of penis size, or allusion to testicules.

They were still glaring at him. He met each of their eyes with a steady pace. “Then what, boys, is your solution to this war?” This statement in English again.

The leader from country U answered, “We keep fighting. What do I care. The Americas give me money. I have population to spare. A few less hungry mouths is a good thing. What is left over can be used and tossed aside.”

The leader from country R muttered under his breath, “Bolshevik.”

The Israeli shoved a single sheet of paper beneath the eyes of the leaders. The language was neither that of country R, U, I, or English. It was in a foreign language with very similar writing to that of a document they had each signed a long time ago, before becoming possessed.

“I don’t understand the language. It looks like that language, but it is different,” complained the leader from country R in English

“Same,” agreed the leader from country U.

“Good, good,” the middleman nodded his head, “Because that is exactly the language that it is. It is a contract that ensures neither side will run out of money or ammunition and be able to continue the war indefinitely at the expense of a new born child, one from each country, every day. But, you must sacrifice this baby publicly. It’s time the slaves knew the truth about their masters.”

The leaders from countries U and R eyes lit up, and then they starting shaking their head.

“No. This will not work,” mentioned the leader from country U, “We must never show the people who we really are.”

“What is the alternative?” queried the leader from country R.

“Immediate peace.”

The leader from country U shook his head with vehemence, “No.” Taking out a pen from his jacket pocket, he scribbled his signature at the bottom. When he was finished, he tossed his pen to the leader from country R. He signed, as well.

The letters transformed themselves on the paper, rearranging themselves in the mens’ native languages. They both read the paperwork, then started with disgust at the Israeli.

“How could you?” The leader from country R yelled. “You double crossed us! This is a peace treaty! We said no to peace.”

“If we break the agreement, we forever reincarnate as cockroaches? And have to live in that Australian woman’s house?” screamed the leader from country U.

“There are consequences to every action.” The middleman stood up, straightening his jacket, collecting the paperwork. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have other negotiations to consider. Have a wonderful day, gentlemen.”

The leaders from countries R and U stood up, glaring at the Israeli as he turned his back and left the cubicle. "That’s it, then? The war is over.” The leader from country R scratched his head, handing the pen back to the leader from country U.

The leader from country U placed the pen in his pocket. “I guess it is. I don’t want to comeback as a cockroach.”

Never The End