*

DAVE REESE, 1 March 2025

Dave had wanted to go out, to be with friends. He had wanted to tell someone, maybe Jon, about his firing. About how he felt. But he was numb. There had been so much flooding his life these past two months and now it was like his mind was exploding.

Still, he couldn’t help himself, especially after that spat between Trump and Zelenskyy in front of open cameras. He thought it was for sure now, that America would leave Europe, and Nato – perhaps even help Russia directly, canceling sanctions.

Instead, he lived from bread and beer, and when he had no more beer he went to the local grocery store close by and bought some more. He hadn’t drunk this much in a long time. But at least he had been out today. He would deal with all the financial stuff, all the papers–everything he needed to do to survive himself, he would deal with that t… later.

Now he was all about who else was not going to survive. And so he trawled the net and news, hour after hour, compiling lists of all the evil the administration was perpetrating or had perpetrated already and seemingly gotten away with.

Then he found the story from The New Republic summing up how children would surely die because the USAID program with life-saving nutrition had been canceled overnight:

Now the Trump administration has officially terminated a number of current contracts struck by USAID for this lifesaving nutrition, contracts that had called for the paste to be delivered to hundreds of thousands of children, most in Africa, according to the Georgia-based nonprofit set to deliver them, Mana Nutrition.

It was a related program Dave had been working on at USAID before he was fired. Now it was news. Cold, clinical news.

And children would surely die. Children like his nephew, perhaps. And nobody gave a damn.

That’s when he had finally had enough beer.

Dave went to the small toilet in the small condo and threw up big time.

*

ABIGAIL SUMMERS, 1 March 2025

It was Saturday and Abigail spent most of the afternoon with a friend from work, Shauni, at a steakhouse restaurant nearby. It was a great way to relax and unwind, and best of all, to share it all with someone who knew exactly how good it was America was back on track.

“I just hate it when people are ungrateful,” Shauni said and downed another glass of wine. “I don’t understand why we don’t just pull the plug on that little piece of shit, Zelenskyy, now?”

“The president will, Abigal said, leaning back and looking at the cars passing on the road. Everybody is in a bloody hurry – so typical. “We will,” she repeated. “It will happen soon. No need to throw money into that hole any longer.”

“Like with my ex.” Shauni picked up a rib that still had a little meat on it to finish it properly.

“You heard from him?”

“No, but I know he is still pissing it all away. I’m not giving him anymore, because Frances is not getting it anyway.”

“But what if he–“

“You mean courts?” She huffed. “He won’t do anything about it. Jerry doesn’t have the money–like I said, he pisses it away.”

“Oh yeah,” Abigail said and helped herself to more wine. A lot of things were right in the world today.

*

ABIGAIL SUMMERS, 28 Feb 2025

Friday was always cause for a little celebration at Abigail Summers’ condo. It was small, but that’s how she wanted it because she was saving for a second house in Wyoming, really far out in the Rockies. It was currently being built by a contractor.

Her summer house on Long Island would be sold soon to finance the final installation at the Rockies’ “shelter” (as she liked to think of it). She had decided to pay up for some heating in the bathroom floor, and you had to be a little creative to get that done in the mountains, but it was possible.

What annoyed her almost every day was how much so many people did not think about what was possible, but were instead whining about their entitlements. Sure, she worked in a bank but she had always worked hard, had proved herself, and had never received anything beyond what she deserved. Just like at her childhood home in Alabama.

Her parents were assholes, of course, it wasn’t that they were fair or anything – quite the opposite. They cared only about themselves. Especially her dad’s gambling, that was what he had cared about, and still did – the old sod. But that only made her more determined to make a life for herself, on her terms. And when her first husband had turned out to be a wimp, she doubled down on that.

Abigail Summers had never gotten nothing for free from no one. And she wouldn’t begin to ask for it.

While she was getting ready to go to work, the kitchen TV droned on. The main story from Fox was that President Trump had been joking about calling the Ukrainian president, Zelenskyy a “dictator”. Last week. This week he had a meeting with the UK prime minister (who reminded her very much of her wimp husband) and some jerk-off reporter had asked about it.

When Trump greeted Starmer at the White House on Thursday, one reporter asked the two leaders about having common ground, with Trump describing Zelenskyy as a dictator and Starmer describing Putin as a dictator.

After dodging the question, another reporter asked Trump if he still believed Zelenskyy was a dictator.

“Did I say that?” Trump asked. “I can’t believe I said that. Next question.”

Very typical of the liberal press, Abigail thought, while slashing at the cucumbers with her favorite razor-sharp knife. To take one single comment oh-so seriously.

It reminded her of the sanctimonious BS she had to scroll through on Reddit in her breaks, getting into her “Popular Feed” despite her best efforts to keep it out–about how Trump was installing fascism in the US.

Jeesh. Get a life.

At least there had been one funny story on r/conservative about the House Judiciary GOP account trolling the losers this morning when the so-called “Epstein files” were released and libs were rushing to see if they had anything on Trump (but not on Clinton, of course). A guy (or a gal) with some good sense of humor had just linked to a Rick Roll video.

Of course, it made the libs go all crazy on social media. ‘How could an official gov account do that?!’

Abigail finished slicing the cucumbers for her salad. It was time to go. At 44 she wasn’t getting any younger. So now a good jog. And then back to pick up her ready bag – and then off to work – and then look forward to some greenies in the break at work. Her doctor, annoying as she was, would approve. It was the only authority she respected, but the doctor was also from Alabama, so there was that.

She put on her jogging outfit and made sure her clothes were ready on the bed when she came home for an ice-cold shower before she would change and get on her way to the bank.

As she passed her neighbor’s door in the hallway she heard nothing from the inside. The lazy bum was probably sleeping late again. Or having one of his boyfriends over.

She didn’t mind gays, except when they were wimps like her husband, of course. So no problem. But the guy could use some discipline in his routines.

She huffed to herself and got out on the stairwell and two minutes later she was running in the crisp morning air.

It was morning in America.

---

DAVID REESE, 27 Feb 2025

“So tomorrow we will be escorted like criminals into USAID to get our personal effects. 15 minutes per terminated employee. That’s us folks. That’s the reward of public service in this country. See in comment below the circular that went out telling us what we cannot bring into the building – firearms, axes, martial arts weapons like nunchucks and throwing stars, spearguns, and even dynamite. No my friends you did not read that wrong. Maybe the folks at 🐕E has us confused with Jan 6 rioters. I will hold my head up high. If I cry, it is for my Agency. For the billions we will have let down.”

That’s me right there.

Dave leaned back in the creaking office chair, another second-hand buy, to make the teeny-weeny DC condo he could afford somewhat homely.

He had also just been fired from USAID, just like that. He had been about to vent, to someone, anyone – when he saw the post on reddit. It felt like an eerie echo of the storm inside him.

America was coming apart. The world was coming apart. He was coming apart.

Another newsflash from his laptop, and the world’s richest man – the man responsible for cutting aid to starving millions overnight – called federal workers “parasites”.

Dave had never felt closer to committing the unthinkable. He was sickened.

In the condo beside his, through the paper-thin walls–and with the window open–he could hear Abigail watching the news again. Fox News.

Something about a corrupt Biden transition team member, millions wasted for operating an empty facility for something somewhere in Texas.

It seemed like an insane coincidence. He had never talked much with Abigail. But right now he felt like going over there and putting a carving knife to her throat and forcing her to switch channels. What the fuck was wrong with her? With everyone?

If somebody wanted to save money, why not do it rationally? Go through the logs, comb out the fat, keep the government running, don’t hurt innocents. Clinton had done that brilliantly when Dave was a teen, even his grumpy old man had had to admit that.

Now, with Musk’s DOGE running wild to cut anything remotely related to DEI or social services, and channeling those funds, Dave thought bitterly, to tax cuts for the wealthy there was only one way this could end:

“The operation was a success – but the patient died.”

He grieved for those children in Sudan he would not be able to help now, but he grieved more for his world. America would shut down. He was sure of it.

His neighbor’s TV continued about how Biden was the root of all evil, and Dave felt he knew the answer to such idiocy:

There was no answer. Cruelty was the point.

Then just as he found himself looking through the medicine cupboard, his phone rang.

He wasn’t sure if it was a saving grace or incredibly bad timing.

TO BE CONTINUED