and famous, with money hanging out ma anus .” The ‘Dead Music’ float rumbled by which contained even more scantily dressed humans as they partied with Notorious Z, rubbing themselves up against him while he groaned out the lyrics.
The convoy ended with the curious spectacle of hundreds of humans marching behind the final float. Some ate raw meat in solidarity with the dead, others snapped their jaws open and closed, mimicking their, um, music. While none of the humans greened up their faces in an effort to look or dress like the dead, they did all have one thing in common.
“Have these people not heard of taking a shower?” Finn asked, cupping a hand around his nose.
They certainly were the most bedraggled, unkempt and disgusting bunch of humans you ever did see. Dreadlocks, long gold chains, piercings and facial tattoos were a common thread. Grotty clothes and the stench which kept even the dead at bay were another.
“How’re you feeling?” Kerry asked, squeezing John’s side.
John breathed and thought for a few seconds. “Actually, not too bad at all. If we all had such pride in our own people, the world would be a much better place.”
“Why don’t we have a human pride event, dad?” Finn asked.
Why not indeed. With everything humans had achieved throughout history, it was only fitting that if the dead could have a pride event, then humans should too. “I think it’s a great idea. We should make some preparations.”
And then the last of the parade, of Dead Pride Day, was over as the convoy passed. John turned to stare at the back of them, as much to ensure they were gone as much as anything else. “Those thieving bastards!”
Four morts cycled down the street on stolen bicycles.
*
The assembled flash mob jeered and threw eggs into the small convoy of floats as it proceeded through the center of Boston. A mixture of moaning and human screams provided a verbal backdrop to the rotten garbage and occasional solid projectile that flew their way. The children crouched in the corner of the floats, covering their ears, many crying from the onslaught. How many protesters? Three hundred perhaps? And they’d all followed the convoy from the starting point on Arlington Street and would doubtless stalk them all the way to the Waterfront Park. John recognized several of the human protesters from the Dead Pride event only the week before.
“I just don’t get it.” He shouted through the screams to Kerry. “How can you be in favor of Dead Pride, but against Human Pride?” It was completely hypocritical.
Kerry flinched as a tomato arced over the float to splat harmlessly on the sidewalk. “Just look at them. Do you really think they possess functioning brains? Probably why they get on so well with the dead.” She pointed to one protester, long matted and dreadlocked hair with a piercing through the eyeball. “That guy just screams ‘fuck you society.’”
John noticed how the CCTV cameras followed the convoy’s progress through the city. He pictured some fat, city employee zooming in on their faces, capturing stills for their files, to be marked ‘Enemies of the State.’
John had applied for funding from the city, but was turned down flat. “How can you approve Dead Pride, but not Human Pride?” He asked the clerk.
“Don’t be mortist.” Was the response returned by the selectively tolerant government official.
But being turned down by the city only spurred John on and in the end, Human Pride had to be funded from generous donations and his own pocket.
Indeed, the city had threatened him with court action if he went ahead with the event. Only, John had his own lawyer look into the case and managed to get the city to back off. In the meantime, he’d experienced strange occurrences around his house; men in dark suits and sunglasses loitering across the street, the mail not being delivered, feedback on his cell phone, and what at first he assumed to be raccoons going through the
The convoy ended with the curious spectacle of hundreds of humans marching behind the final float. Some ate raw meat in solidarity with the dead, others snapped their jaws open and closed, mimicking their, um, music. While none of the humans greened up their faces in an effort to look or dress like the dead, they did all have one thing in common.
“Have these people not heard of taking a shower?” Finn asked, cupping a hand around his nose.
They certainly were the most bedraggled, unkempt and disgusting bunch of humans you ever did see. Dreadlocks, long gold chains, piercings and facial tattoos were a common thread. Grotty clothes and the stench which kept even the dead at bay were another.
“How’re you feeling?” Kerry asked, squeezing John’s side.
John breathed and thought for a few seconds. “Actually, not too bad at all. If we all had such pride in our own people, the world would be a much better place.”
“Why don’t we have a human pride event, dad?” Finn asked.
Why not indeed. With everything humans had achieved throughout history, it was only fitting that if the dead could have a pride event, then humans should too. “I think it’s a great idea. We should make some preparations.”
And then the last of the parade, of Dead Pride Day, was over as the convoy passed. John turned to stare at the back of them, as much to ensure they were gone as much as anything else. “Those thieving bastards!”
Four morts cycled down the street on stolen bicycles.
*
The assembled flash mob jeered and threw eggs into the small convoy of floats as it proceeded through the center of Boston. A mixture of moaning and human screams provided a verbal backdrop to the rotten garbage and occasional solid projectile that flew their way. The children crouched in the corner of the floats, covering their ears, many crying from the onslaught. How many protesters? Three hundred perhaps? And they’d all followed the convoy from the starting point on Arlington Street and would doubtless stalk them all the way to the Waterfront Park. John recognized several of the human protesters from the Dead Pride event only the week before.
“I just don’t get it.” He shouted through the screams to Kerry. “How can you be in favor of Dead Pride, but against Human Pride?” It was completely hypocritical.
Kerry flinched as a tomato arced over the float to splat harmlessly on the sidewalk. “Just look at them. Do you really think they possess functioning brains? Probably why they get on so well with the dead.” She pointed to one protester, long matted and dreadlocked hair with a piercing through the eyeball. “That guy just screams ‘fuck you society.’”
John noticed how the CCTV cameras followed the convoy’s progress through the city. He pictured some fat, city employee zooming in on their faces, capturing stills for their files, to be marked ‘Enemies of the State.’
John had applied for funding from the city, but was turned down flat. “How can you approve Dead Pride, but not Human Pride?” He asked the clerk.
“Don’t be mortist.” Was the response returned by the selectively tolerant government official.
But being turned down by the city only spurred John on and in the end, Human Pride had to be funded from generous donations and his own pocket.
Indeed, the city had threatened him with court action if he went ahead with the event. Only, John had his own lawyer look into the case and managed to get the city to back off. In the meantime, he’d experienced strange occurrences around his house; men in dark suits and sunglasses loitering across the street, the mail not being delivered, feedback on his cell phone, and what at first he assumed to be raccoons going through the
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