Micropoetry by Wren Tuatha | #thesideshow
January 20, 2017
Hungry by Toni Marshall | flash fiction | #thesideshow
January 21, 2017
It seems only fitting that while we await the dreaded inauguration of a fascist, narcissistic blowhard to take place on Friday, January 20, 2017, I have the common cold.
As common as it is, I still detest being sick with it. This is saying a lot, as I have fibromyalgia, and sometimes a flare can put me down for several days. However, I’m accustomed to them and can prevent them, for the most part.
We are on the eve of the day Donald Trump is sworn into the highest office of the United States of America, and I’m coughing up a lung.
Well, fuck you, DT. I’ve still got my voice with this keyboard.
I’ve been thinking of how to broach this subject—since it’s all any of us are talking about—and I have come up with what I consider the most articulate way for me to describe my disgust and disdain for the inauguration and the next four years of hell for this country.
Since I cannot go march and I must instead spend my Saturday schlepping food at work, here is my protest:
The Top 10 Things I’d Rather Do Than See Donald Trump Take the Office of POTUS
- Be forced to eat at Chuck E. Cheese every Friday and Saturday night for the rest of my life.
- Go mall shopping with my mom every weekend (kill me now).
- Hand wash dishes until I die. This is huge, because I’ve been hand washing dishes for over a decade now, and having a dishwasher is one of my loftiest goals.
- Have Lawrence Welk reruns play on a continuous loop on every music station, Muzak, and cable station until I either start doing the Polka or commit myself into a psyche unit.
- Watch my ex-husband sleep in his chair, every night for the next 30-40 years.
- Grow my uterus back and start having PMS again. FOR LIFE.
- Attend church every Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night—and sing in the choir, bake cookies for fundraisers, and host all bridal and baby showers until I can no longer control my bladder (oh, the horror!).
- Carry all four of my kids and give birth to them. AGAIN.
- Live in Florida.
- Have this damn cold for four more years.
Reality hits tomorrow, folks. Get ready. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.
Kim D. Bailey, a Pushcart Prize Nominee, writes Women’s Fiction, short stories, poetry, non-fiction, and a weekly column for FIVE:2:ONE. She is currently writing a third novel. She’s published in several online literary journals and print magazines. Kim lives in her hometown of Chattanooga, TN. To connect follow at www.kimbaileydeal.net and on Twitter @kimbaileydeal
