Happy Fanatics


Swimming with soldiers. I fall for a woman soldier swimming. She has dropped a happy Easter card from her daughter. It drifts away in the water. 
Later. We are inside. Religious people are outraged at sex and love. They stamp and shout. Small icons fall from the wall. They sew our eyes shut with yellow leather strips, block our mouths with wood, I grab her and run out, around a corner, and clear our mouths and unlace our eyes. Suddenly she’s gone, taken by religious fanatics. I grab a large wooden sleeper, and break into the room I think she’s in. A young man joins me, religious, but no fanatic. 
Inside is empty. There are the more doors. We take one each. Both open, and alarms sound. It’s a trap. We try to smash our way out of the windows, but don’t escape before the media arrive. We sneak out. The woman soldier sits in a nearby garden with her son. A procession goes by, celebrating the death of sex and love, they carry a box, and inside, the beheaded, crucified, body of a man is visible. He looks like Frank Zappa. 
Brass bands play, people sing. The happy fanatics, who want to kill everything. 

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