Turmoil

Advisor Musavi looked around the room nervously. He was there, President Nkemi was sitting right there at the table. He checked his watch. 9:05. Musavi told the man to be there at 9:00 with the rifle. No sign of him whatsoever. "Yes, I understand", Musavi replied in Swahili, their native language. The politician was blathering on and on about his "human rights policy". Musavi thought to himself: 'Fuck your policies, fuck you, and fuck the horse you rode in on.' Every time President Nkemi said something, he would nudge Musavi. Musavi would respond with a Swahili "Yes" , and kept on looking for the man. He saw a movement in the rafters over Nkemi's shoulder. 'There he is....slow bastard.' Musavi glared at the President as the sniper steadied his aim. All he had to do was give the signal and BOOM. All of the country's financial problems, all of the racial oppression, all going down the drain with the pull of a trigger. They had been planning this one simple moment for months. Musavi took another sip of his liquor and grimaced as the President told his council members of the military progress in Sandovia. 'In the next five seconds', Musavi thought,'you won't be worried about your military.' With that thought in mind, Musavi leaned back in his chair and raised his hand above his head. Three shots. President Nkemi was chuckling when his head exploded and liquefied like a rotten tomato. Musavi looked up, mouthed the word "Run" to the sniper, and fired six wild shots into the rafters. "Goddamn it!" he yelled, "I missed! Someone go hunt that fucker down!" People were running, children were crying, women were screaming.

In the midst of all the chaos, Musavi grinned.