The Dictator’s Dream or The Son of god Trembles By Mike Zone He was dreaming of cats again. Looking for something pure. He wanted to be pure. He was pure…or they said. The black and white kitten was now a full-grown memorial balloon coming down on the citizenry of Seoul, spreading a noxious green gas turning them to what he loved best…cats, this would be his City of Cats, now that the Divine Empire had been rendered officially victorious. K’s father would be proud, only it was not past tense but the here and now. A technicolor ghost of gray uniform and glowing golden Buddha skin and he was there presenting him the Gatekeeper of Eternal Paradise, Chamchi The Cat…get it? Translated into dumb Americanese for the dotard President Triumph, Tuna the Cat, get it, the cat is named after what it enjoys to eat when it is in fact not what the cat is? Ha-ha. K was funny even as a child and his father rewarding him his dead reborn cat at the moment of triumph when Triumph and the rest of the world who opposed him was just cinders and ash. He cuddled his illuminated and cosmically soft feline friend from childhood who long ago disappeared with a mangled leg never to return and wept tears upon the earth from the cloud in from which he hovered above the dry dead lands, tears of bliss and purity rejuvenated and fertilized what was lost and from bombed out husks of continents grew vast fields of rice patties and trees of water fruit bearing infinite arrays of fish from within. The world would no longer go hungry again. The Great Leader had won. The Son God had never trembled and bowed before his father ready to be anointed as God himself, sending his own father to a blissful rest in the grateful ever expansive wave of forever. K awoke. The Son of God awakened to another day. Glory to The Leader. Three looming attendants chanted. Gold featureless masks and black cloaks. “Morning is here. The Son of God does not tremble. Oh, save us from universal mourning, Oh Son of God. We surrender to your salvation.” He was curled up in the womb position in order to be reborn each and every day and time he slept. “Great Leader, we strive for you, yearn for you. Oh, Great Leader save us from darkness, lead our childish sinful hands to the light.” K knew he was really rolled up like a ball and could have cared less. There were no cats in this sterile white room, nor clouds even though his bed felt like one. “Dawn! Touched by the Great Leader! The Son of God, does not tremble!” K tumbled out of bed. The attendants scampered around, prostrating themselves before him as if it were a grace and delicate birth. He had his boots on. He was nude. The attendants pounded their fists on the floor, beat their chests and wept on how unworthy they were to be in Great Leader’s presence. He swayed back and forth groggy from his afternoon slumber which was needed for the first three hours of his day diplomatic duties depleted his being. The door slid open and three white clad virgin brides entered. Virginal though they were, they were still impure seeking something pure much like he was, but was he pure to begin with and if he himself was pure without knowing it, wouldn’t that make everyone else just as pure, possibly divine? Best not to consider anything of the sort, there were no cats here, ergo how could he really know anything? The needled plunged into a fat roll, his rotund finger recoiled, shuddered and all of a sudden K stood straightly erect like a rocket ready to launched overseas delivering thunderous flames of liberation and blessings. The dwarven virgin hair down like a common street girl, threw the apparatus down which was quickly picked up by a guard. The vial it was connected to contained a cocktail of vitamins needed to keep the Great Leader ever vigilant and healthy at the height of perceptive power. K felt a comforting warmth engulf his blood vessels, an electrical current circulated through bone and sinew, blooding rushed like a typhoon to his private member, “Chamchi Junior” in honor of Tuna the Cat who he always held in the most intimate part of his soul, hidden from even All-Father God and Supreme-Leader, his father. His mother knew but Mother May I no longer existed, nor did she ever as he was repeatedly told. “K, you have no mother.” His maiden-wife proclaimed. The cocktail of vitamins silenced these thoughts as his cock swelled toward the trio tale, disrobed, and setting on all fours before him. Mechanically the virgins spat and rubbed themselves wet to receive the poison he must spew from his system in order to cleanse the dirty realm with his cleansing seed. He chose the plump one to the left with the pigtails and thrust himself inside her. “I love you, oh Son God.” She cried in a forced moan, gyrating in a dramatically staged ecstasy. The other virgins rolled around, reaching toward the sky. “Will the Great Leader ever one day choose to love us?” K pumped vigorously away hoping to end this filthy exercise as soon as possible. The theatrics emotionally wounded him. These women didn’t love him nor would they ever just as he could never love them. They acting within the mechanics of which they were created for. How could he a man of flesh and blood descended from Heaven love a machine? Once upon a time, when he was dreaming of cats…a herd came to him in a dream, they spoke without moving their lips, eye broadcasting ray of thought transforming into images in his brain, the secret language of cats. He plunged all the way inside his virgin bride as she wept begging to be impregnated. The rest of virgins weeping at their missed chance to take part in divine conception. K was not yet God only the son he quivered at what he started to remember but didn’t want to explode just yet inside this robotic girl for lack of pride and remembered the set of purple doors which opened to the golden hall his cat friends had shown him within his dream; a hallway of glass cases containing all manners of shapes, eyes, noises and mouths, a variety of skin toned doll parts to shape the record of a not yet living being, even the schematics for his wife were plastered across the ceiling along with the schematics of various dispatched concepts for potential wives and consorts had been, being or had yet to be. He climaxed as he put the girl he was inside together from the various parts. There was much rejoicing as the Son of God did not tremble doing his duty with a mighty roar which really sounded like a pig’s squeal but this was the world K knew he lived in until he could find something pure and pretended to blindly accept it as a guard wiped him down, while groveling and simpering how as much as he risked his life he could never be as brave as the Great Leader. They met eyes. The guard bowed. K stiffened his upper lip and solemnly nodded. The door slide open and General Shipeo ran into the room and fell on the floor before K. He held his hands out, asking for mercy before the naked Son of God. K stood stupefied as his attendants dressed him in the same gray uniform as he wore day in and day out much like his father The God-King of Neo-Heaven. “Great Leader, Son of God who does not tremble! The military has failed. The police have failed. The Red-Light District we thought extinguished burns bright with vice corrupting our people and attracting killers from far off lands. We know your burden is great God-Prince of Forthcoming Golden Eternity, a killer terrorizes our unlawful whores and frightens our people…Johnny American, sent by the dotard President Triumph to strike fear into our people, sullies their innocence, I beseech you for our salvation and forgive our failure.” This was it. This was the purity the cats alluded to in his dreams. The search was over. The quest could begin. K would be pure. The people would be pure. The land would be pure. All he needed was his special uniform to hunt Johnny American for one had to blend in looking like an “American Johnny” to stalk and slay one Johnny American. He would hunt just like the killer masquerading as an illegal American Tourist would look, needing to slake his thirst in the dim world of the flesh trade. One attendant cut him out of his uniform with oversized scissors, while the other two put him in tapered khakis and a red Hawaiian shirt with gold flowers and fish, crowning him with a white fisherman’s hat but saving the best for last, he would know Johnny American’s every move for the great General Shipeo bequeathed upon him eight-ball sunglasses so he could see the plethora of the villain’s possible moves before any could be enacted. All fell to their knees before K, praising him as the Son of God who did not tremble and Great Leader who could never falter. K was all that stood before the Bright Land and the onslaught of American terrorism. He thought about this and the ever allusive purity, dreams, and cats, most especially Chamchi as the chopper landed and he was all but pushed out into the dark alley in his ridiculous outfit, his most loyal men, sacred friends and honorable followers laughing and waving in which nothing felt right. He clutched the M-16 they had given him which felt much lighter than it should have as he had shot them off before and the texture felt so…rubbery but “It is a new type of gun, Great Leader meant to look like a toy to distract and inflict more harm with false perception.” He was assured. Crimson light flooded the darkness…indeed this was what a red-light district must be like K assumed. He looked around, taking a hesitant step forward gripping his so tight, the perspiration caused his hands to slide off the rubber textured weapon. Good thing, the gun was still slung about his neck with a strap otherwise hope would be gone for President Triumph would stand triumphant with the gates of paradise closed for all eternity. He wondered where Johnny American could be hiding and shook his head vigorously, the rattling of potential answers slushed around until there was a hiss and a wild growl. The glasses hits the ground as a soft cuddly wind hit K’s face. The lens were broken leaking what looked like liquid onto the trash littered illuminated blood colored sidewalk. The gray scraggly furred cat with wide insane eyes looked up at him telepathically projecting images turning into words he could read in his mind and hear upon this tangible realm of existence. “K son of god you are not but more…soon to learn right meow.” The cat scurried away into a dark corner which could have been a black hole, but black holes only existed in outer space didn’t they and weren’t those just western capitalistic fictions to prevent the Age of Gold from being ushered in? A bloated calico rose from a garbage can, a lid on his head. “Fire and fury beckons your land, your people and yourself K. Throw your gun away. Save yourself. You are messiah of the pure, your true father awaits.” “My true father? Who are you? How do you know all of this, living in garbage?” “I am Booster and it is called a garbage can not a garbage cannot.” Booster sunk back down into the filthy container. “It’s okay, K you won’t face him alone. I am here.” K looked down upon a cylinder-shaped white cat with one eye. He looked young but was scarred with alley cat battles. There was a bald patch on the left side of his body, a jagged scar like a lightning bolt ran along the length of it. The cat noticed K gazing at it. “A human thought it would be fun to lure me with tuna when I was but an innocent kitten yet seeded with feral savagery. He ran piece of broken american cola bottle across me, I tore his throat out with fangs and teeth. He died and I bled dying next to him and in my dying days as we were left unattended to by the rest of our kind I saw what was to transpire for the great good and lived to make my life sacred which was to be here with you now.” “What is your name, brave one?” “I am nameless, like every great sacrifice never to be known, hidden from the world and knowing eyes.” “May, I call you Brave One?” “You may call me whatever you may wish, I stand ready to do battle with you. The world of forever dreams and prosperity lies before us and to endure we must be pure.” “I see.” “You do not but to be blind is to really see…when the sky ignites, look to darkness.” K did not understood, nor would he fully understand. The Son of God trembled and pissed himself as a hulking form came from the other end of the alley way. Brave One moved aside to avoid the wetness secreted from K and stood ready to pounce with a low growl. Like an American horror movie, the massive steroid infused figure came barreling toward them. Johnny American, shirtless with eight-pack abs and muscles looking like they were about to tear open his skin, American flag painted across his face with a blond crew cut and camouflage pants, he had no weapons but a machete. A silver tank embedded in his chest with various tubes pumping a queer vile chemical concoction which seemed to make him a flesh-machine of rage and manic muscle, getting larger and angrier as he charged forward. “This is so unfair! I’m just a political science major! Call the President! Send in Space-force!” Johnny screamed aimlessly swinging the machete. K raised his gun and pulled the trigger…. nothing happened. Nameless as he was truly known, rolled his feline eyes and leapt at Johnny American who instantly grabbed him and began to squeeze. “Brave One!” Nameless formerly known as Brave One turned to K as his body was crushed, his sight-orbs popping out from his skull. “A spear to the side, a loss of an eye for true insight. My life is no loss but sacred K. Look away dear hearted friend to the sky and see fire and fury toward a better tomorrow.” K did as he was told. The lights went out. Sirens went off, blocking whatever death rattle emanated from Brave One from invading K’s living audio receptors. Cats did not lie. He knew this to be true. Most especially when in dreams. There was a whistle and the sky was literally aflame. Swirling and coming down toward the ground, melting structures in an eerie silence, like a fictional depiction the world as it was meant to be on the soundstage of reality which didn’t seem all that stable to K despite what he had been told over the years. “The bastards did it! They really did! Without rescuing us! We show them giants walked the Earth and no one cared!” K watched as Johnny American wept and plunged the machete into his stomach toppling over the corpse of Brave One as he would eternally be known instead of Nameless as he would have preferred but K would decree otherwise. No one should be nameless…He purposefully thought for the first time. The calico garbage can cat knocked the can over spilling contents of dirty diapers and remnants of pasted canned meals over as he rushed past K. “No time to gawk K, into darkness we must go.” The ground snapped, crackled, and popped beneath K’s feet as the fire got closer. He followed the cat into a black oval located in the corner as flames engulfed everything above, below and beyond what could be void of everlasting non-existence. K was where he belonged. He sat on a golden throne in a round room of violet and gold. A stack of pies; cream pies with fish parts stuck out of them, tails, fins, eyes, and complete open faces. Towers of pies accompanied by marble columns and millions of cats sat before him. “Welcome home son.” K looked up to see Chamchi, like the miniature tiger he was so unlike a tuna, curled on his own golden throne, levitating before him with a sly grin and a pie sitting next to his tail. This is pure. K thought purposefully for the second time in his existence. “Yes, it is.” Chamchi replied aloud. “Let the purrification begin right…Meeoow!” He flicked his tail, the pie flew from his seat and smacked K right in the face…tuna and cream, how divine. Cats and human threw pies and chased each other every which way in a slip sliding cacophony of bizarre laughter… K woke up. He was dreaming of cats again. Searching for something pure. He had his boots on. Naked with dried semen on his stomach. His wife’s robotic parts strewn all over canopy bed. Circuitry and wire protruded from her cheeks and forehead. Chamchi walked up to him and stretched with an epic yawn. “Sometimes you have to hurt the one you love, K.” K awoke… He dreamed of cats…again… Nude except for boots… He wanted to be pure.