Simon Says

Utopia. The perfect place. Living and dead co-exists together for the first time in 200 years! Everybody is happy. Well, almost. I belong to the illegal suicide club. The club that commits suicide and films it, records it, to show that not everything should be perfect. I'm one of the filmers and cutters. My friends keep urging me to commit suicide, but I just don't have the courage to. 

Ha, another reason to hate myself.

Today I'm participating in one of the weekly experiments that the city holds. Some crackpots believe that they hold these events just to control the city and/or remain popular. Morons. They just want to keep the rest of us oh so very happy.

Calling a cab, I grab my knife that I keep with me at all time. My trusty knife. Only my friends at the suicide club know about it, because it's illegal to have something that can "ruin the peace". Ha. Nonexistent peace. Bad thing still happen, do you still think that somebody just won't do something bad because of  piece of paper. Bullies still exist. Torture still exists. Rapists exist. Some kids joke that homework still exists, and then I give tell them to go call a piece of paper with numbers on it Satan. That shuts the fuckers up.

The point is, you can't keep everything perfect forever. Everybody knows that deep down. Well, unless they're fucking babies. And you can tell nowadays. The frustration in the city is reaching tipping point. I will be laughing and cheering once it breaks. This perfect Utopia, reduced to ashes, mentally and emotionally, if not physically, will bring a smile to my face.

Putting my knife away, I get out of the cab, walking into the loud cab into the crowd that has accumulated to play "Simon says," the experiment. Good thing too. I'm just on time.

"Good morning, ladies and gentleman!" Booms the voice of the announcer, in a jazzy, indifferent but at the same time confident tone. "Are you ready to play Simon Says?"

"Yes!" Calls the crowd.

"And are you prepared to do whatever 'Simon' says?"

"Another burst of approval."

"Righ-t-yo! Let us begin! Simons says . . . . . jump!"

The sound of feet hitting asphalt hit my ears. 

"Jump!"

Some people made to jump, but caught themselves.

"Hmm, impressive. Audience, start your bets!"

"There's betting?" Somebody playing spat, obviously displeased.

"Why, yes there is! Also, you're out!"

"What? Why?" The same person yelled, frustration rising in their voice.

"Because there is noooo talking during this event!"

"That's total bullshit!" He screeched, stomping off. "I'm going to work."

A stunned silence followed his words.

"Well, then," the announcer says, his voice slightly shaky. "Simon says . . . . . . . . pat your head!"

Patting ensued.

On and on the rounds went, the dares becoming increasingly more ridiculous, until only thirty of the original 200 remained, and it was the 100th round.

"Alrighty! Let's do something special for our 100th round!" The announcer boomed. "Let's let the audience decide what you guys have to do! Audience, cast your votes right now."

About ten minutes later of being forced to stand completely still (ugh), the announcer said, "Okay, I have the results right here! Simon says . . . . . . . . S-Simon says . . . ."

"Get on with it!" Somebody simply watching yelled.

"S-simons says . . . . . k-kill yourself."