acab

Here’s an example of why Riff n raff will appeal to aACABers.

Book 1 – STOP THE WAR

Chapter 12 – WAR PIGS 

Riff found Raff, under a bridge, about five minutes before the cops did. After her father had stormed off to church to pray for the war to start, Raff packed her paints and her tablet into her backpack, and headed off to transform her rage and frustration into art, or as some would have you believe, vandalize public property.

For five hours since then Raff toiled under the bridge, in the industrial area of town, putting a final personal touch on her favourite painting by her favourite painter. “Wow!” said Riff, when he beheld Raff’s 12’ x 6’ work. “What the Hell is that?”

Raff, mentally exhausted, laughed, “You’re right. It is Hell. It’s war. It’s Picasso.”

“Yeah? Really?”

“It’s called Guernica. I’ve been working on it for a month. It’s Picasso’s interpretation of the first time civilians were targeted in a war. Guernica is the name of a town in Spain. During the Spanish Civil War the fascists got Hitler to bomb the town. The town square was bombed from the air, on market day, when everyone was shopping. Guernica had no military significance. The only reason to target it was to murder and inflict terror on innocent civilians. It changed war forever. Made war even worse than it had been.”

“The Nazis attacked Spain in flying saucers?” Riff asked, perplexed.

Raff shook her head. “No, idiot, I added the flying saucers. That’s us getting out of here, with the penguins.”

Ever alert to trouble, and always understanding the need to avoid it, if possible, Riff said, “Maybe we should get out of here right now. Here come the cops.” But neither Riff nor Raff had the energy to flee, and there was no escape anyway.

The portly cops emerged from their car. The driver, smirking, asked, “So, what do we have here? Another case of vandalism! Tsk tsk tsk.”

“Vandalism?” Raff laughed. “This is art, you Philistine.”

“Sure looks like vandalism to me,” said the other cop, with a smile. “And you know vandalism is against the law, and we’re going to have to take you to jail.”

Raff, wisely containing her rage and fear, replied, “Jail? Are you out of your minds? Look around you. Look at this nightmare.” All around was a scene that would gag a maggot. Factories belching filth into the air. Dead fish floating on pools of toxic sludge in the river. Garbage  strewn everywhere. The cops looked around, their faces suddenly sombre. “This,” Raff said, spinning 360 degrees while flailing her arms and hands, “is legal? And you’re going to throw us in jail for making art

One of the cops scoffed, “You call that art?”

Raff rolled her eyes, shock her head and pulled out her tablet. She showed it to the cops, “It’s Picasso. You may have heard of him.”

The cops looked at the tablet, then at Raff’s rendition, then at each other. The fatter of the two finally said, “Yeah, well, maybe, but this is not the time or place to be painting Picassos, kid.”

“Actually,” said Riff, “this is exactly the time to be doing this, although I agree that it should be painted in a more public space. Like on the walls of City Hall. Tell them, Raff.”

When Raff was finished telling the cops the story behind Guernica, Riff grabbed a can of spray paint and marched over to the bridge foundation. “Let me spell it out for you,” Riff yelled at the cops before scrawling STOP THE WAR underneath Raff’s work.

The cops were clearly troubled by Riff’s challenge to their perceived authority. But they were also confused, because they were being lectured on morality and public duty by a couple kids, who, they had to admit, were dead right Before the cops could break from their mental paralysis Raff looked at Riff and said, “Dude!, that’s not helping.”

Riff shrugged, then bent over and opened his guitar case which contained his cherished mini Flying V guitar. He plugged it into the Marshall mini amp, which was attached to his belt and started to thrash,

Generals gathered in their masses
just like witches at black masses
evil minds that plot destruction
sorcerers of death’s construction

“Riff! Shut up!” Raff yelled. “That’s not helping, either.”

The cops looked at each other, not sure what to say. Riff ignored Raff’s plea and continued:

In the fields the bodies burning
as the war machine keeps turning
death and hatred to mankind
 poisoning their brainwashed minds
oh lord yeah!”

Sensing that the cops had been conquered, Raff decided to call their bluff. “Oh, what’s the difference?” Raff said to the cops. “We’re all going to die real soon, anyway. Go ahead and take us to jail,” she dared them, holding her hands together in front of herself to be cuffed.

Alarmed, Riff stopped playing and said, “Dude! What are you doing? That’s definitely not helping.”

The cops surveyed the scene of environmental carnage all around them. They looked at each other, not saying a word. Then they got back in their car and left. Raff sighed. Riff laughed and yelled, “Wait. Good cops! I have donuts for you!”

Raff cringed just a little bit, and laughed, “You’re such an idiot.”

Riff smiled and said, “C’mon, let’s go splish splash.”

 

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