General Mortimary Ignatius had been preparing for this moment all his life, although he wouldn’t admit it. Ever since he had entered military academy as a Plebe he had dreamed that he would one day assist in violently overthrowing the government.
Buttoning his crisply ironed uniform he looked in the mirror and smiled. It was time to address the troops.
He strode out onto the balcony.
“Well boys,” his voice carried over the troops, “it’s time to do this. Let’s climb up that mountain and get rid of the President.”
The troops were very inspired. They marched to the top of the mountain and readily deposed the President, who was bad or something.
“Well that was easy,” said Ignatius, “what should we do now?”
Although his critics claimed that Ignatius was an uninspiring and tepid leader his supporters told a very different story. Perhaps the bags of Marijuana and psilocybin mushrooms which the soldiers found scattered around the palace helped to ease the criticism which these individuals would otherwise have direction in Ignatius’s direction.
The certainly helped ease Ignatius’s concerns. “I guess we should just party.” He said as he lit a joint.
The drugs had a profound effect on the soldiers. In short order they were all stoned out of their minds. That’s when Ignatius decided to have a poetry contest. “We’re gonna do poems now.” He said. “Three line poems, five syllables on the first line, seven on the second and five on the third.”
It was a very a good time. People spoke fondly of the high coup for years.
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