Totalitarian Society Story #2

I am happy. The street is clean and damp. I wait for my succulent loaf of bread, and my 453.6 grams of wholesome milk. The queue is not long. The people are cheerful and consistent.

Oh no!

A reckless man brushes past a small child. She spills her milk. The nourishing and satisfying food wasted.

The man hurries on, lacking heed.

A woman opens her eyes wide. She opens her mouth wide. She is about to scream.

I sense an opportunity. Heart-swelling.

I draw my service revolver. I aim. I fire. The impatient man’s head explodes. He falls to the ground.

I bow, low.

“I am from the government,” I recite loudly, “and I am here to help.”