Rights of the Minority
“Excuzzzzze me?”
I snap awake from a shallow half sleep. Did someone say something?
“I zzzzzzaid, excuzzzzzze me.”
“Who’s there?”
“Juzzzzzzt me.”
A small fly flitts around my head, aligting on my earlobe.
“Okay, this must be a dream.”
“How often do you zzzzzzzay that in dreams?”
“Well...”
“Try to wake yourzzzzzzzzelf up.”
I couldn’t.
“Zzzzzzat’s what I thought.”
“What do you want?”
“Well, we’ve been thinking. We’ve heard of your ‘democrazzzzzzy.’ The idea intrigues us.”
“And?”
“We want you out of the apartment. We do outnumber you, by a factor of thousands.”
“That’s true,” I say, before slapping, hard.
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