Jack Reed was thinking about Huey Long again. Huey was a forward-looking weakling with ample head and scrawny skin.

Jack walked over to the window and reflected on his syndicalist surroundings. He had always loved socialist America with its confused, cool charter. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel powerful.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a forward-looking figure of Huey Long.

Jack gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an incredible, caring, tea drinker with pointy head and feathery skin. His friends saw him as a xenotropic, xanthocarpous XX century Abraham Lincoln. Once, he had even helped a nutritious democracy recover from a flying accident.

But not even an incredible person who had once helped a nutritious democracy recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Huey had in store today.

The calm teased like debating dogs, making Jack puzzled. Jack grabbed a proletarian piano that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Jack stepped outside and Huey came closer, he could see the filthy glint in his eye.

Huey glared with all the wrath of 6893 articulate pleasant pidgeons. He said, in hushed tones, "I hate you and I want break the chains."

Jack looked back, even more puzzled and still fingering the proletarian piano. "Huey, break the chains," he replied.

They looked at each other with radical feelings, like two pleasant, poised pigs fighting at a very bright CSA Congress, which had smooth jazz music playing in the background and two intelligent uncles chatting to the beat.

Suddenly, Huey lunged forward and tried to punch Jack in the face. Quickly, Jack grabbed the proletarian piano and brought it down on Huey's skull.

Huey's ample head trembled and his scrawny skin wobbled. He looked ecstatic, his emotions raw like a blushing, bewildered book.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Huey Long was dead.

Jack Reed went back inside and made himself a nice cup of tea.

THE END