by Nina Fosati

TEAM WORK, DEDICATION, COMMITMENT. Some say I demand too much from these kids, but I love the little fuckers. At the end of our undefeated season, I let them show off. They strut down Main Street to the Dairy Queen. After deliberating whether rainbow sprinkles or a crunch coat are better on cotton candy flavored ice cream, we sit at the picnic tables where we can celebrate.

At the moment the village is peaceful. I gaze towards the ridge. In the distance the lake and border blend into vague colors. Quiet as it is, you gotta pull your weight if you want to live here. Signs saying “No Undue Burdens” sing out from people’s lawns. At night we hear the flash bang of skirmishes in the distance. Most of the illegals and undesirables have disappeared.

The sound of Growlers intrudes. A convoy sprints past and unfurls beside the long-term care facility three houses down from the DQ. A throng of camouflaged National Guard heads towards the entrance, others make a beeline for the white-bricked group home.

A woman approaches the commander and points to several houses. Soldiers peel off to pound on those doors. Elderly men and women in various states of infirmity exit their homes docilely enough. The armed men prod them towards the group gathered in the care unit’s parking lot.

For some, all it takes is a hard shove. ‘Not worth the price of a bullet,’ the men joke. An M2 mounted on the back of a Growler splats in rat-a-tat bursts, loud and over-eager in the slanted twilight. Unable to rise, the broke-down people lay prone, blood seeping into the cracked asphalt.

I let the kids watch. A life lesson, you know? The world they’re inheriting, their survival will depend on it.


Nina Fosati is a disabled autistic elder alarmed at how threats towards marginalized people are escalating from covert to explicit. Links to more of her stories can be found on her website