Once there was a Mole named Megan. Megan lived underground. Megan didn’t make many friends because she was always eating dirt and the garbage of people walking by. Whenever she saw someone come near, she’d scurry away to her safe place under a park bench. The thing was, this park bench was buried beneath 15 feet of dirt from the park! One day, as she was thus feeding, she saw a light. As it turns out, it was more than a light: it was the electrical current of a taser after her presence sparked some fear about the safety of that park among the public. The city council was occupied prattling about United States’ bipartisan politics and thought the report was speaking of a mole on the state Supreme Court Chief Justice’s chin. Naturally, they agreed.
But this mole was not on anyone’s chin, she was on public land; and therefore should be protected under federal law. But of course, bureaucracy has its ways. So there she went, under the restraint and mercy of the local animal control. Once in the animal control facility, she found other moles that appeared to be in the midst of some kind of depressive state in the cages surrounding her. she tried to cheer them up with a joke, but inadvertently ended up laughing at herself. No other mole laughed at the joke, but once she began bursting out― first with a monotonic chuckle, then gradually into an uncontrollable hysteria― the moles laughed at the very fact her laugh was like a tickling feather on their shaven (sometimes gruesomely scarred) undersides.
She found a man who apparently thought she was a boy, and began to call her Caesar. This man worked in a secret lab paid for by American taxpayers after being appropriated under legislation that was supposed to subsidize local American schools and fund the government. Of course, the congress at the time only read the first couple of pages then laid in fetal position under the desk (both on the floor of either chamber and in the process of committees) crying out “It is too much! I can’t read that much! Too much pressure! Coffee! Coffee! I’ll pass! I’ll pass! Get it out of here!” What is more, this man, Paul Ryan, received a lot of money simply by staring at the grotesquely mutilated corpses of animals like Megan. But Megan was different. “Caesar, you will get the newest drug that is expected to make humanity live longer, and become smarter without any kind of actual education.” He said. But then Paul thought to himself, “Well, technically no one in America gets an actual education… so I guess we are walking on new ground! Yipee for George Washington!” He then pulled out an image of Abraham Lincoln, all tidy in his sepia filter and antique frame. “George, I will make you proud!” He said aloud.
Megan was then put on a table, Paul with a syringe in his hands. “Caesar, we have done this before, you are strong chimpanzee. Don’t disappoint me. But if this doesn’t work, your body should be relatively less mutilated than the others… wait I think that was my doctor talking to me about my wife’s pregnancy… now what was I supposed to get Janna? Chocolate? No matter! Let’s get this over with.”
Megan saw the light again, bright and white above her. Paul Ryan then turned that light off, and Megan realized she actually had the light inside her.
That is, she had been enlightened.
She sat up and said to Paul Ryan “Where is old Mitt to give you a break now? Mwahaha I liked you better in 2012… at least you meant something to politics!” then slung herself off the table.
But being a mole, she could not move that fast. So, she moseyed about with eagerness and once again saw the light. This was the taser again, but at least it was blue. Megan really liked blue. She woke up in the cage again and attempted to communicate her experience with the other moles. They were uninterested, but definitely a rowdy bunch. One called himself Bill and had a menacing tattoo of a shark on his left arm; but this shark was shrouded with a heart. Megan liked hearts. Bill eventually escaped from his cage, and walked towards Megan’s cage. “My lady, I had a dream about you. I think you are the one. So, I was hoping we could… you know, go on a date sometime… maybe think about our wedding preparations…”
His real name, she found as he thought aloud in a cloud of laborious nonsense, was actually Clinton. He was a marvelous cook apparently. After several hours (as Einstein would concur would only be relative to Megan; but needlessly should we make a mountain of this mole hill), the Bill/Clinton creep helped Megan escape. She took him to the secret lab and essentially stood him up. Clinton was sad. Nevertheless, she got more serum in a gaseous form, and returned to the shelter.
She released the serum; and all of a sudden, the moles underwent a temporary stage of wayward levity, and escaped from their cages as well. They all took Megan as their leader; who, in anger of stagnant American politics proclaimed with fervency “Bernie or Bust!” Her newly found cronies all said the same thing, though only because it seemed cool at the time.
But Bernie was long gone.
She was even more enraged.
“Kill them all on Wall Street!” She said in her best Brooklyn accent. But it was not contained there. Nor ever could be. There was an election of a self-proclaimed god whose ghastly appearance always protruded and haunted the super-mole mind of Megan: a Donald Trump who began to call himself Xerxes. This election illuminated an opening for these moles to form their own terrorist group known as “IMSIS,” The Islamic Mole State of Iraq and Syria. Though, these moles actually practiced something resembling either Rosicrucianism or Nuwaubianism, but in its footsteps followed the spirit of the Prince Philip Movement.
In the process of becoming such a great people, these moles recieved many record deals for hits like “I want to hold your paw,” and “Digging in the Mole Mine.” Yet it seemed even through liberal media Megan and her Mole followers could not recieve the attention they were looking for. It is hard though. most people don’t actually look down and acknowledge the beauty of soil-dwellers until there is a large sinkhole engulfing the house of Chris Christie. Which, by comparison isn’t the worse thing to happen to him, and no one really cared then either. Megan saw then that eating dirt must be the only suitable life then. Though in her endeavor accidentally bored through electrical lines that prohibited the unintentional and sporatic arming of nuclear warheads on America’s coastland.She did, after all, like the color blue. It didn’t really do anything.
However, nobody, not even Xerxes in all his glory knew what would come: the era known as “Planet of the Moles.”