Assassin’s Lives Matter

Sometimes I go into trances when I compose fiction. I left my body twice in Wal-Mart working on my chapter about Serena Oswald, Lee Harvey Oswald’s granddaughter. I was looking at putting this blog into a fictional novel titled ‘Capturing Belle Brush’.

‘Assassin’s Lives Matter’


Jon Presco

Copyright 2018

Serena Oswald barely made it into ‘The Tater People Tribe’. She did not understand all the nuances of her prospective People. The bean rows she planted, were wavy. The ‘Give Me Your Old Treasure Hunt’ produced a wood pallet, some plastic paint buckets, and tangled chicken-coop wire. What saved her was the idea for kitchen composting that was supposed to her own, but, she lifted it from Olga Christianson of Norway. She farmed it out.

“You tried!”

Where she will rank in the pecking order of things, depended on her Keish and Wine party held at her first ‘My Abode Has Meaning’ presentation. Serena lived at the Stoneridge Apartments on 19th. Knowing she had to make a good impression, so she will own some tribal authority, she came up with a daring idea. She had been to the home of several tribal women and they all had two posters on their wall. One was of Audrey Hepburn, and the other was James Dean’s wrecked Porsche.

“Why these images?” Serena asked, and blushed when she was given – the look – with silent treatment. She had been demoted – already! Surmising that some images from the past were chic and acceptable, Serena came up with A UNIQUE IDEA. She knew she was taking a big chance. She had the photograph of Jack Ruby shooting her grandfather in the stomach, blown up, and hung in on the wall between the Porsche and Audrey.

When her Tribe entered, they seemed not to notice Lee’s pain staring them in the face. They were highly trained to filter real pain out of their being. Before you can say ‘Jack Ruby’ two Women Wiccans broke off the bunch and were standing before her DNA Seed, as Peter put it. There are supposed to be no leaders, but Serena corrected concluded she was looking at them. One of them turned, and with pouting Earth Mother lips, asked;

“Who are these people?”

“What’s going on?”

Serena approached with caution. Her hand was shaking. She put her wine glass in other hand, but that hand was trembling.

“This is my grandfather being shot by Jack Ruby who worked for Big Bone’s Remmer, the Mafia guy that owned Cal-Nevada, a gambling haven for the stars.”

Serena looked at The Covert Coven Leaders, who wanted more info. Serena had spoken some key words, that made their dicks hard.

“Uhh! The Texas cops brought my father out of the station – to be shot by Jack, right after he said he was innocent. “I’m just a patsy!”

“Oh my God. This is where it all began!”

“What began?”

“Black Lives Matter!”

“Except, Lee is a – White Man!”


In the next three days ‘The Tater People’ tribe changed American politics, and saved the candidacy of Donald Trump, that was in the shitter. The Tater Tribe had Lee’s image put on t-shirts, and there was a march to EMU on the University of Oregon campus. The Taters were wearing black. They were shouting;


They brought a speaker and mike. Serena spoke in front of a giant image of Lee.

“My grandfather was murdered in cold blood by the Mafia, with the help of the Texas cops. He had just declared he was a patsy. Lee Harvey Oswald was about to expose the Kennedy Family as members of the Illuminati, who invested bootleg money in a chain of hotels where only the very rich could stay. Jack was killed by members of his own family because he double-crossed the Irish Mafia. The Kennedys, also assassinated Martin Luther King!”

The shouts of outrage poured from the Liberal crowd. But, THE BIG LIE was out of the box. Fox News got a copy of the local broadcast, and invited Serna and the Two Leaders on the show. They brought out an old hippie liberal with white hair, who was beside himself with rage. Standing up, this old hippies rained verbal abuse down of Oswald’s granddaughter. Suddenly, his false teeth flew out of his mouth, and landed in Serena’s lap. She jumped up screaming;

“Get it off of me!”

The symbol of  abusive Liberal Free Speech, fell to the floor. The camera zoomed in. It looked like a piece of Kennedy’s brain. There was a show motion shot of these fake teeth. The leader of the NRA and the Rapture Ready Brigade, said this at the same time.

“Get rid of Pence!”

At the Kremlin, Putin reached for a Vodka cocktail, he not able to take his eyes of Serena, and those teeth.

“Who is she? This Liar will peel away enough votes to put my Donald back in the White House. We might even carry Oregon. Who do we got in Eugene?”

Putin’s King Troll got on his lap-top.


“Spit it out!”

“His name is Peter Potato Seed!”

There was mutual Chortling.

“Does he have a real name?”

“Yes, but, there are instructions no to utter it.”


“Because it destroys his Good Earth DNA Seed Vibes!”

“What the fuck is going on in Eugene! I want my decoders on this! We might be looking at the most subversive language of all time. I wonder who invented it?”




About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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