Dzuy looks at the world around him and sees nothing but a putrid, stinking carcass.
There certainly is good in the world, but Dzuy sees none of it. He chooses only to see the rapists, drug dealers, teachers that don’t round up from an 89.9 %, and murderers. The scum of the scum.
But Dzuy could forgive things like that. He understands that human nature is an ugly one, and people do heinous things. Dzuy can forgive someone who made a mistake once, and reforms themselves. But Dzuy will never trust a capitalist.
Dzuy believes that one man should help another man up, not look for a way to profit off of him. Upon learning about Adam Smith in school, he had a mental breakdown and was rushed to ER. The doctors diagnosed him with a broken heart. Dzuy simply loves mankind, and believes everyone should share what they have. Dzuy loves the idea of mankind, although he doesn’t quite understand its nature. Economics is a social science, not math.
Every night Dzuy prays to his posters of Che Guevara and recites the same passage from the Communist Manifesto 43 times before he goes to bed:
The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles.
He commonly gets detentions from his spanish teacher Sra. Acosta for imploring his classmates to join his revolution.
“Que las clases dominantes tiemblen ante una revolución comunista. Los proletarios no tienen nada que perder sino sus cadenas. Tienen un mundo para ganar. Trabajadores de todos los países uníos!”
No one takes him seriously at school. They think he’s no crazy than any other vegan SJW roaming the hallways, tearing down bell game posters that have hairy female legs crudely drawn on them and throwing people’s chicken sandwiches in the trash. At lunch, Dzuy storms the Bowl with a megaphone white knuckled in his skinny Vietnamese fists, trying to convince a bunch of idiot teenagers that anything is worth a damn. Jake Winkle (from part 6) catches a snapshot of him, neck muscles bulging, spewing Soviet propaganda and puts it on his socialist aesthetic blog.
Dzuy used to hang out with friends on weekends, but now he pulls all-nighters transcribing Stalin’s five-year plans into Vietnamese and scouting potential locations for his first Communist operation. Upon months of casing and research, he decides the first of many Communist insurrections will be a statement “robbery” of the Fountain Valley Wells Fargo.
However, he needs an army. He marches down to the Santa Ana riverbed, and finds exactly who he wanted. Lying in tents and drugged out of their minds, the homeless transients eye the skinny Vietnamese teenager slaloming over to their temporary setup. A communist badge is sown across his heart and his socks have hammers and sickles all over them. He’s lugging a heavy weapons bag with him.
Why homeless people? Simple. The disgusting capitalist pigs have left them to rot down here, hiding under their expensive taxpayer-built bridge. The homeless should be helped, not told “they’re not trying hard enough”. How are you supposed to climb a ladder if there’s no rungs? There’s no opportunity for jobs, no opportunity to ever become anything more than a crackhead stuck under a bridge, staring at hoodrat high schoolers biking and skating past them towards a future of nothing (at this rate). Those kids, the ones that seek adventure, are usually the same ones that sit in class, glossy-eyed, their potential untapped because no one knows what makes them tick. Their elders think the same thing works for every kid, but that’s crap and no one knows it. Those glossy-eyed, adventurous kids are destined to be crackheads and meth makers and poor and homeless and stupid and useless, and no one gives a damn. No one except Dzuy.
He starts passing out the rifles to the homeless people in their tents. They question his motives. He places a reassuring hand on their shoulders and packs them into his communist van. On the car ride to Wells Fargo, he briefs them on the mission. With literally nothing left to lose, the transients agree to the terms. Some even get excited.
“THIS ISN’T A ROBBERY, BUT YOU FILTHY PIGS BETTER GET DOWN!”
Dzuy and his transients pin the business men and women down to their stomachs. They line up the bank tellers against the wall. The transients watched them with a close eye. Dzuy proceeds to smash the glass that usually protects the workers from something like this. It’s advertised as robbery-proof, but that’s just a lie to make the bourgeoisie feel more secure in handing over their precious greenbacks.
Nobody panics and everyone complies because they think the silent alarm was tripped and the cops will be here in seconds to handle the situation. In reality, Dzuy unarmed the alarm a few days prior with his sharp communist cunning abilities.
He collected cash in large canvas bags until he figures he has enough. He piles all the money in the center of the bank, a citadel of the capitalist cult. He pulls out a match from his back pocket, and lights its bright red tip a fiery orange.
Through the megaphone, he yells “YOU ARE WORTH NOTHING. THIS GREEN CRAP ON THE FLOOR IS WORTH NOTHING IF YOU TELL YOURSELF IT IS WORTH NOTHING. CUT THE CHAINS THAT SHACKLE YOU TO SOCIETY!”
The match hits the gasoline soaked cash, and that’s the cue for the rifles to aim and ignite, and the tellers hit the floor. Dzuy and his gang spill out of the bank, followed by the screams of filthy animals watching their souls wither away in the smoke.
Back at the riverbed, Dzuy and co. revel in their victory. Along with the death of 13 capitalist pigs, all cash present was destroyed. Sure, banks have insurance, but no one will recover from the communist indoctrination they received that day. Dzuy said goodnight to his new comrades, and walked home. What do you make of that, the homeless asked each other. The boy’s a time bomb, remarked one of them.
A year later, and Dzuy has successfully performed a military coup of Los Angeles and San Diego. The rest of SoCal bows to his will. The entirety of Southern California is under communist control, and has seceded from the United States. It is now known as the United Socialist States of California. Dzuy has The Bends.
It went down exactly how Marx said it would. The impoverished rose and destroyed their bourgeoisie oppressors. They crushed their iphones, burned their cash, and diced their credit cards. Malls and shopping centers were turned into jails for politicians of the past, and other dirty oppressive capitalist dogs. They were fed once a day, if that. The homeless were in charge of handling the prisoners, and sometimes felt like making them live the way they’ve been forced to live all their lives. Forced them to become addicted to dirty drugs they’ll do anything to get, the same way the transients couldn’t go a day without a heroin fix. These pigs are gonna get it now. These pigs are really gonna understand just exactly what’s been going on under the taxpayer’s bridges now. They gave them ladders with no rungs and made them climb it. They watched their chubby bodies squirm and sputter trying to climb with their pathetic tree stump legs. They fell over and over, pitying themselves. They haven’t learned a thing.
Dzuy spared the rest of the population. He allowed even the bourgeoisie to remain a part of society, as long as they didn’t dissent and they swore they had never been a politician or a cop. Before, these scum were the dollars and cents and the pounds and pence. Now they wore the same brown rags as everyone else.
Everyone worked the same hours, worked the same jobs. Sports teams were made illegal, as was any other leisure activity. The only way to live in harmony was for all to become one, rather than be many. No one was better or worse than the other. Money was not in circulation. You earned based on how you worked. Just how Dzuy had envisioned it.
Unlike previous communist leaders in history, Dzuy refused to live in excess. He believed in his message, and if his people were gray and the same, Dzuy would become gray and the same. He still retained leadership status, however.
The communist revolution is firing on all cylinders. There’s a sharp divide in the media over the USSC. Dzuy is an international hero, as idiot liberals and people who don’t understand the nature of humans nor economics praise the coming of the true messiah. Dzuy is pleased at his progress. The Bends is in full force.
However, the United States is done standing back. Until now, they had decided it would eventually blow over. But if they don’t act now, this “revolution” could become a thing. So they send in the CIA, the Marines, and the tanks to blow Dzuy away. To blow him sky-high.
Dzuy has heard the news. The president has declared war on USSC. However, Dzuy has no army. All he has are a bunch of crackheads with AK47s. This is the end.
Sir, they’ve brought the CIA, the Marines, and the tanks to blow you away. To blow you sky-high. You’ve got The Bends. They’re gonna cure you.
I know. The CIA, the Marines, the tanks are here to blow me sky-high. I must face them. I must accept my fate.
Dzuy made his way out of his citadel, built by tax-payer money many moons ago. He met the CIA, the Marines, the tanks, with a megaphone in hand.
RED MENACE. DENOUNCE YOUR COMMUNIST LEANINGS AND YOU WILL BE TAKEN ALIVE.
NEVER. LONG LIVE THE WORKERS OF THE WORLD!
As soon as he uttered that last word, the missiles and the mortar shells and the bullets flew in his direction. They all connected at the bridge of his nose. The bones of his skull splintered into a 3,000 pieces, and his brain splattered in every single direction. The waves of force traveled through his body, melting his skin and flesh. His bones crumbled into dust and then smoldered into ash. Dzuy was dead, for all intents and purposes. But Dzuy wasn’t dead.
His eyes opened. He was in a river, swimming with black-eyed angels. They asked him where the hell he was going. They barked at him but no one else.
Dzuy couldn’t comprehend where he was. He last remembered becoming the ultimate communist martyr. Now here he was, in the river surrounded by celestial beings of incomprehensible beauty, their pitch blacks eyes sinking their teeth into Dzuy’s soul, their chiseled muscles perfectly tone, their seraphic hair. No imperfections.
Dzuy, do you realize what you have done to mankind? The first one spoke with a voice, 1000 fold more powerful than what human ears can handle, yet softer than a mother’s embrace, or a kitten’s fur.
No, not quite. I thought I liberated humanity. I still think I did. But no one seemed happy. I convinced myself that happiness was not a necessity. Equality was the only necessity. Humans must be equal, regardless of whether they’re happy or not.
But who are you to decide who is happy? Inquired the second being. You are a pathetic human being. There are creatures a few light years away from your pathetic world that are eons more developed than you. You are literally worth, quite frankly, nothing. So tell me, who are you to decide who’s happy and who’s equal?
Dzuy stood there, dumbfounded. He was unable to process what was being told to him.
Humans may be stupid, but capitalism is one of their most genius and pure inventions. Advertised as completely fair, everyone is told they can make it if they try hard enough. Obviously, this isn’t true. And it never will be true. But there’s no such thing as equality. Out of all the man made concepts and social constructs, equality is the biggest lie. Humans are not equal. Some are much smarter, some are much stronger, some are much richer, some are much braver, some are much more enlightened. Capitalism harnesses the imperfection of humanity to its full potential. Your ridiculous system compresses humanity to a single concept; equality. Yet one single concept could never encompass an entire race of complex, stupid beings. Humanity is so much better than equality. This third angel spoke with the elegant voice of a poet. Its words spread across Dzuy’s conscious like warm butter on toast.
Tears filled Dzuy’s eyes now. He understood. In his attempt to save humanity, he had ruined its best quality- he ruined its evil, which makes society flow. Evil is required in a functioning society. It is much more necessary than good. Evil inspires us. Good keeps us the same. Dzuy saw the error on his way. And now he saw himself dissipating before the godly beings.
Banks on fire. Police sirens glittering in the dark. The collapse of individuality. Dzuy had seen it all. He sacrificed people for an idea. All these moments lost in time.
Like whispers in the wind.
Time to die.