New World Order: The Final Solution

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The Ballerina


Oh Poindexter, what shall we do?


May 18, 2023. Las Vegas Downtown

Jordan Samuels is an attorney of African heritage living in Las Vegas. He is thirty four years old, five feet eight inches tall, with a flat nose, thin lips, and short hair. He was a boxer in college and this greatly enhances his assertiveness with other men. When Jordan has had a few martinis he will describe himself an a "nigga with attitude". This gets him into a good deal of unnecessary conflict with almost everybody he encounters. Friends and family have advised him to lose the attitude, just be himself, and work hard towards his goals. They agree that he should stand up for what's right when there's a real moral issue at stake, but suggest that he should not create phony issues out of thin air merely to demonstrate bravado. But Little Mister Big Man never listens.

9:00 AM Jordan is wearing a brown business suit as he begins to cross Las Vegas Boulevard at Freemont. He sees a white man, five feet ten inches tall, with graying sandy hair, and a bad limp. Sixty year old Darwin Skettle is crossing from the other side and for some reason Samuels decides to walk straight at him blocking his path. Skettle says "Now isn't that stupid, walking right at me like that?" and shaking his head, proceeds across the intersection. Samuels turns and chases after him asking "What you say to me?"

Skettle repeats his question and Samuels comes up very close to Skettle's face with raised voice "You fucker, you talk to me with respect! I'm not a child. I'm a man! You understand me?"

Skettle replies "Fine, why not act like one?"

Samuels had started to leave, but now comes back "What you say?"

"Why not get your behavior in line with your rhetoric?" asks Skettle.

Samuels comes up close again "You got a problem, my man?"

Skettle says "No. I don't" shaking his head again as goes on his way.

June 2, 2023. 9:03 AM

Jordan Samuels is again crossing Las Vegas Boulevard when a large blue van stops abruptly and two big men open the side door and pull him in. Before Samuels can cry out he is chloroformed into unconsciousness.

When Samuels awakens he is on the floor of a small two hundred car parking garage somewhere downtown. There is a big table with snacks and a beer cooler. Also a home entertainment center with one hundred folding chairs facing it. Jordans's hands are tied behind his back and there is about eighteen inches of chain between the two steel ankle cuffs which shackle his legs. Jordan can't believe the strange turn his situation has taken.

Samuels sees that he is not wearing his suit anymore but a light blue chiffon ballerina dress with matching silk toe slippers. Now Darwin Skettle walks into the room wearing high rubber fishing boots and carrying an electric cattle prod. "Good day Mr. Samuels. I hope you're comfortable. We did the best we could with the fitting on such short notice. Right now I will need you to show your appreciation for this fine effort by kissing my boots immediately, please, Sir."

Samuels says "What the fuck? think I..." At this Skettle pokes Samuels in the testicles with the cattle prod. The shock makes the attorneys hair stand straight on end. In silence now Jordan kisses the big rubber boots, but not passionately. This greater willingness will come later...

"To your feet, please" says Skettle. "Recently you spoke to me about respect. I respect all people who behave in a genteel manner, but nobody can command or threaten respect from anybody. Respect must be earned though righteous conduct. Now I need you to show respect. We're having a party here today and you're the guest of honor. Since you are dressed for this occasion as a dainty ballerina I think it would be only appropriate that you curtsy like one immediately, please."

Samuels hesitates, clenching his pugilist fist behind his back. Skettle gooses the attorney firmly with the cattle prod again and Samuels curtsies as a reflex reaction to escape the electric shock. "That's the ticket, Mr Samuels. Again please... Now curtsy!" repeats Skettle goosing again. Samuels responds in turn. Skettle gooses again and again... Samuels curtsies again and again...

Now the guests begin to arrive. Over the next three days many people come and go. During this entire period without respite, except to answer nature's call, Samuels serves hundreds of sandwiches and glasses of beer to the guests. He curtsies to a great many men and women of all ages. He kisses a great many boots and shoes of all sizes and shapes. Every two hours the "Theme from Swan Lake" is played in exquisite stereo and Jordan Samuels is persuaded to prance on his tip toes, do pirouettes, indeed all the things required of any prima ballerina. Jordan becomes ever more dainty and accomplished with every performance.

At the end of three days we have the grande finale. One of the guests looks exactly like the late John Farris and is with a slim pretty blonde woman about thirty years old. After greeting this couple, Skettle walks over to Samuels and asks "Do you have any concept of the extent to which belligerent troublemakers like you spoil the quality of life for descent people in America?" Samuels hisses and glares defiantly at Skettle who now says with genuine sad reluctance "Put him up."

A high stool is positioned next to the entertainment center. Two large men place Samuels standing on the stool. The men pull a water-tight pair of plastic underpants up over the pink ballerina panties. A thick rope nous with velvet pad is slipped around Samuels neck, the ankle cuffs removed, and the stool gently pulled out from under him. Now once again to the lovely "Theme from Swan Lake" Samuels prances like a dainty ballerina as his legs desperately, but gracefully, seek for footing. This goes on for about fifteen minutes while the audience of over a hundred watch in fascinated silence.

Late that night Samuels body is hung in a tree on the lawn of the Las Vegas Court of Justice. Still wearing the plastic underpants as a courtesy to the city, the ballerina isn't discovered until nearly 6:30 AM by an elderly lady walking her Basset Hound. When the lady sees the body she cries, "Oh, Poindexter! What shall we do?"

The old hound looks up at Jordan with big sad eyes, whimpers sadly, howls mournfully, and then throws up his fine breakfast of canned horsemeat onto the sidewalk. Soon a municipal meat wagon arrives and the ballerina's body is transported to the city morgue.

8:00 AM. Garrett is enjoying corned beef hash with one egg, strawberries, and hazelnut coffee as he sees the story about Jordan Samuels displaying the normal attorney photograph on television. "Eeeh Gadbois! I know that guy. He tried to harass me on the street about a year ago. An attorney moonlighting as a ballerina... only in Las Vegas. Jordan, fare thee well, my poor friend. We hardly knew ye! And thus begins yet another day of Denebian Slime Devil splendor, another day par excellence in that hotter-than-Hell Place-of-Places, Sin City USA!"