Blackhumouristpress's Blog

March 11, 2014

American Youth Re-education Camp

Filed under: humor,Short Story — blackhumouristpress @ 5:29 am
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“I’ll have to say; I’m skeptical about this whole thing. It seems like torture to me. If our government was doing this to suspected terrorists, the world would put the president up for war crimes.”
“Sir… Sir… There’s no gun to your head. You don’t want to do this? I can go now.”
Matilda looked at her husband George with eyes full of despair. They could no longer reach their sixteen-year-old son who threatened them with bodily harm, stole from them, took drugs, smoked cigarettes, drank alcohol and dropped out of school. The teen spent the day listening to the loud angry music and playing video games. The strong man with a Salvador Dali moustache looked bored as he looked down at his watch waiting for the potential clients to decide.
“Ok… I’ll sign.”
A few days later, Lance their son, was stripped down to a pair of shorts, shoes and burlesque show girl-like pasties strapped to his bare chest to hide his man boobs. None of the slaves were aware of where they were. What they knew was that they were kidnapped and forced to work twelve-hour days carrying rocks and water. Those who slacked were beat with a large bamboo stick by a large man in a uniform with sunglasses on. No talking or singing was aloud. Meals of corn gruel was served three times a day with water and sleep was laying on a cold cement floor in a large room with a hundred other captives from around the United States. The common thread among the young men was that they had come from money, hated their parents and their suburban upbringings. Once a night after eating their final meal, a man in a uniform and a heavy southern accent, would come in to verbally beat them down.
“There are people out there that would die in a war for you today like Jesus Christ so that you can be free to live like over fed, fat complacent, spoiled pink faced little fuck cherubs from tree lined streets, insulated from the real world where people go without as a fact of fucking life. You have been brought to this little piece of heaven to work. When you are hungry all you think about is food and if you want food, you will work. Nobody knows you are here. Nobody cares that you’re here. Your parents somewhere are sighing a sigh of relief that their little darling is no longer bloodsucking money and mental energy from them. They’re not wondering where the fuck they went wrong any longer. You want to escape? The dogs and electric fences are designed to keep you here for as long as you are useful as a human being… Now… Good night, ladies.”
Lance went from being a pear shaped, middle aged looking teen to something Hitler would have been proud of as part of his Hitler Youth. Lance became a muscular machine that worked from sun up to sun down everyday. The only thing that kept Lance going daily was that life could not last forever. Someday he would have to die. After six months, a prison guard befriended Lance and told him that he would allow him to escape. It was all part of the program. A staged kidnapping aided by parents and then an escape from the camp after six months by a prison guard with empathy. Or so it seemed.
“You seem to be a good kid. Take this twenty dollars and get as far from this place as you can get in a night. Nobody will know you’re missing until morning. Hopefully by then, you’ll be safe at home again with your family.”
Lance ran through swamp water with little fear of alligators, He ran and ran until he saw lights. Up ahead was a giant sign over an interstate that was like an oasis in the desert; a Taco Bell. Lance had several burritos and then talked trucker at a gas station into letting him call his parents from a cell phone. By morning, Lance was back in his room asleep. Lance hugged his parents and cried tears of joy and relief that he was finally back home. He told them every little detail about the camp. George, Lance’s father called Leif the director of the camp to express his gratitude and asked if the starvation and slave labor was necessary. Leif posed a question back without answering the question asked of him.
“How was it that we were able to stand up to the Japanese and Germans at the same time during World War II? Hard work and lack of food during the Depression, my friend. It’s not complex. The world is a different place when you are hungry… Call me if necessary again.”
“Do parents sometimes need to call you a second time for this sort of a thing?”
“Not yet. I just like leaving the door ajar for the possibility.”

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