The bombs and rockets are exploding from the Mid East all along the North African Coast. An American walks across the marbled expanse of his nightclub in Casablanca. Not taking the time to survey the room, he strides past the piano player and approaches the woman he knew would be there.
"Ilsa," the American began, "you said we'd always have Paris. Well, here's looking at you kid."
Not waiting to hear Ilsa's explanation, the American turned and approached the French and other Old European delegations in the room.
"You're either with me" the American taunted, " or you're against me. If you're against me, you'll get nothing. If with me, you'll get what I tell you what you'll get."
"But that's preposterous!" the delegations shouted.
"Pre... pre... Damn you!" the American shouted, "then you'll get plenty of nothing and nothing is plenty for you!"
Suddenly, all eyes in the room cast upward at the sound of a plane flying overhead. The little man in the corner selling Articles of Demarcation grabbed his papers and bolted out the door. The piano player nodded at Ilsa and then played a familiar melody. The puppet government functionary sidled up to the American.
"I think," the American said, looking down on the functionary, "this is going to be a continuation of a very profitable relationship."
From out of the shadows, the little man with the Articles of Demarcation approached the American and the puppet government functionary.
A fog of dust and rock arose as they all blew up.
© 2006 by Justice Putnam
and Mechanisches Strophe-Verlagswesen