In Service of Mammon

Mammon

By: Alberto Pupo

It is not every day that you stumble onto a hidden conspiracy. A plot to take us all into another realm of existence. The ritual is strange… The players are somewhat stranger… A group of silver headed oil executives each one of them with only a few years left to spare. They stand in a circle holding hands, kissing the idol of Mammon. I watch this somewhat disturbed but entranced. When I took a job as a journalist, I swore an oath to report the truth. No matter how bizarre… How can I release the video? Who is going to vouch for its authenticity? And furthermore, is my body going to end up among the others in a Jersey landfill? These questions bounce around my head. I feel nauseous; I can see one of the old farts looking out towards the shadows. I seriously hope he did not see me or I am dead on the spot. The chanting now takes a more devilish tone.. the words I do not understand it sounds like a mixture of Russian and Pig Latin, some language that only these oil breathers understand.

Now the lead old geezer walks forward up the statute and opens a briefcase which must contain a million dollars in cold hard cash… he takes a lighter.. he burns it… they all chant

“In the Name of Mammon, In the Name of Capitalism.. we beseech.. you do away with our enemies.. those who wish to restrain us and our ability to service you here on Earth. Please send them away to their doom.”

The idol begins to take on a certain unhealthy glow, a glow which lights up the entire room… I can see all their faces now. Executives, well bred and groomed, creatures of Mammon, servants of Capitalism… Fat, plump, old, well fed… yes, very well fed. My hands are shaking as I get this on video… as I feel the Pulitzer prize in my hands. I have exposed them, I have exposed them!

I feel everyone’s eyes looking at me. I think I must have been snoring to hard… All their very pale, faces, and light blue eyes staring angrily at me. The silver headed leader, he is an asshole, his owl-like eyes sizing me up.

“ Mr. Lawrence? Are you awake? We are waiting for you to speak.”

I feel embarrassed; it is terrible to be caught napping. I grab the stack of papers that have been sitting idly before I stand before the room and join them in service of Mammon.

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