The Trapo (a fast fiction)

The Trapo (a fast fiction)

He drained his beer in his throat along with the chunks of grilled beef he bought at a restaurant on his way home. He opened his personal computer to check on his facebook account and the smirk which he carried from a day of adulation faded…instantly. He never imagined that this boy, which he met a few years back will do this much harm. At a point, he regretted the insults and the ‘demolition job’ he had thrown to this boy’s father - he never anticipated any retaliation, but then; he is reaching his 40s, and he must have to show a brilliant political glamour to climb the higher posts. He’s new to politics, but has learned how to win it from observing the “old-styles” – the old political system of the province. He had invested much to it; constantly present at events and communal occasions in their town and pretended helping, “what’s important is the presence”, he had thought, “…that is all that matters”. He played with the mouse and he remembered that he uploaded pictures in the net, ones which he copied from others, edited and inserted his name for the “name-recall” purpose he intended for the campaign. Nicely done, he guessed…the voters in the province will never know. He had paid for the posters, the streamers, and all that political paraphernalia he sometimes doubted but conceded to be necessary…and this boy, he thought, does not have the right to destroy it.

He counted the years on his mind; “councilor today, mayor tomorrow...” he silently grinned, “This is not the City, fool”, he cursed the boy some more. He’d done that as a habit when nobody is looking. One thing that he abhors most is intellectual pestering – he hate the feeling of being reminded that he is dumber than the college drop-out he is, he hate intellectual dealings…especially when it is in the ‘English language’(one which he has no skill of). Sometimes, he regretted it, that chance of education he missed because of his frequent and expensive late night-outs, even though he was provided with everything he needed. His father was after all, a wealthy man.”It doesn’t matter” he muttered, he firmly believed that politics does not demand education but only “popularity” - good pictures hanging everywhere, greetings on streamers with his name in bold letters, being present in events and occasions and waving hands at almost everyone, “even pictures on facebook will enhance political image”, he grinned some more at the ignorance of the people who voted for him.

He browsed at the internet some more to find some quotes he can claim his. He closed his porn tab and opened a private message which popped up a minute ago – the clock on the toolbar declared that it was 7 o’clock in the evening. Then, his knees weakened as if on cue; the shivering cold of that sight was enough to make him half insane. He threw his beer on the wall which broke the silence of the house. The boy warned him of retribution, one he shoved away because he claimed invincibility after having that taste of power. “This is not happening!”, as if to beg the computer screen to eat itself and disappear. His back slumped on his chair. At the corner of the screen shows thirty-two pictures, the enlarged image is enough for him to understand – it is naked picture of him with another naked man having “fun”. The image is very clear, and he remembered the place, he remembered the exact date. He bowed his head, and thought of his family members and relatives, he wondered how they will take this. He took a short reflection on the future of his political career, how he used the little power he had to hurt others; for the sake of more power…then, he thought of the boy and his plea for him to stop the unfair campaign he proudly started against that boy's dying father.

“Retribution huh?” Somehow he had a glimpse of a visible reflection of himself on the computer screen. He thought that it was a demon mocking him.