The rebels smashed down the door, and their leader urged them forward. "Today, brothers, is the last we are deprived of our liberty! What can the tyrant do to us now?"
"Only this," the tyrant himself said. He strode toward the rebels, awe-inspiring in his cavalier attitude. He stopped but a foot from the leader and spoke. "Liberty shmiberty."
The rebels were amazed, struck dumb by his eloquence. "Retreat!" was all their leader managed to shout and all his followers could do.
As the tyrant turned to look for someone he could order to get a new door, a crowd came to it. "Master, a petition!" The man who presented it on behalf of every merchant in the country bowed in a servile enough fashion, but his hands were steady.
"You think your taxes are too high, eh? Taxes, shmaxes."
"I suppose you're right, master." The merchants withdrew, abashed.
The tyrant turned again, only to be halted again by the shouts of angry teens. Groaning, he gave them a minute of his time.
An athletic youth walked forward with a pugnacious look. "Hey man, what's the deal with banning our shindigs? There's nothing political about them, honest."
"Shindig . . . shindig . . . Argh!"
Thus did callow teenagers take over the government.
Finis
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