The Quiet Conservative December 13, 2009
An Eco Short Story
Al Gore wrote a poem. He even read it aloud. Two mistakes in a row. That poem was the
inspiration for the following short story. Writing about the climate fraud getting exposed seemed so
dry when the facts don't faze the lawmakers or the prostitutes of journalism in their pursuit of
crushing freedom and progress. So in a mood of exasperation it seemed fitting to satirize the eco
warriors just a bit with a little fiction. After all, if Al Gore could write an over the top poem that
bad, why should I pass it up?
The Hunter's Kill
The air was cool. The hunter stared across the valley and his breath was faintly visible. He knew the
change of seasons was coming and there was a concern that he and his mate might not have the
proper provisions to see it through. The alternative was unthinkable.
The valley was unsullied. It was all that anyone could imagine. The hunter mused on finding the
place and he knew that several other groups shared it without stressing the resources. He paused to
look up at the wispy evening clouds when he heard it. The far off sound of his prey coming up the
valley. Quickly he was off the rocks and down the trail. The prey was moving fast and he hoped it
was dark enough they wouldn't see the trap. By the time he made the meadow he heard the crash of
the prey hitting the trap and he let out a primal yell that stirred the blood. His husband Todd came up
from near the creek where the arugula had been growing in the last vestiges of the Indian Summer.
Both laughed as they knew the bounty ahead.
"Chad! It worked!" Todd laughed as he ran. "You're a genius!" The hunter merely smiled.
By the time the two got to the edge of the trap one of the other families in the valley were already
there. The Andersons were breeders. Distasteful, but the Andersons were very committed to
sustainability so the hunter couldn't complain.
"It's an SUV!" yelled Tommy Anderson. By the time they scrambled down to where the rolled over
vehicle was the Andersons and the others had drug the family of four from the wreckage.
Nothing could disgust the hunter more than what he thought of as the typical 'American' family of two
kids, a mom and dad, and an SUV. For their first kill this was more than validation, it was a sign.
The trap had been a diversion of a highway detour sign and a hairpin turn near where they had
collapsed a small concrete bridge. Now they knew the trap for the carbon polluters worked.
The parents were unconscious, probably hurt badly. The kids were moaning and soon their moans
would escalate into open crying if it was allowed. The hunter looked around for the shaman, a middle
aged woman who was a former minister of the Christian Cult. One day she had finally awoken to the
reality of the sacredness of the Earth itself. She joined the crowd at the lip of the gulley along with all
the other groups that now called this valley home.
"Sheva, what are the offsets?" Chad called.
The former Rev. Alice Dimwittie, now self styled as Sheva, pulled the recycled carbon neutral process
equivalence card from her flowing robe. "Let's see...eight cylinder SUV, plastics, metal, carbon
output of two adults and two children.....about thirty two thousand pounds."
A cheer went up among the group. Divided, it meant that each family could turn on their computers
and cell phones for the next month. Todd started to weep quietly behind Chad because he had missed
the whole fall season of Bravo, and now he could possibly find out who the next top designer would
be. Mr. Anderson hugged his wife because this would be enough of an offset to give him weeks at a
time on the computer writing environmental restrictions on the power industry he could email to his
office at the EPA.
"Tommy," called Chad. "Run and take down the detour sign. We don't want it spotted." Tommy
ran off daintily down the road. He was so eager to please. Especially since Mrs. Anderson had sent
him to spend the summer with Chad and Todd. He wasn't questioning his sexuality anymore, the
hunter thought with a grin.
All in all it was a good first kill. The Earth was waking up and it had its defenders. Todd began the
poem that all along the ravine the others soon joined in on, the poem of their prophet, Al Gore.
"One thin September soon
A floating continent disappears
In midnight sun
Vapors rise as
Fever settles on an acid sea
Neptune's bones dissolve
Snow glides from the mountain
Ice fathers floods for a season
A hard rain comes quickly..."
As the others began to crowd around the vehicle Chad the Hunter saw his breath in the air and he
took a step back. It was a good first kill for the valley and the Earth. More would come soon. He
climbed back to the top of the gully so he would have an unobstructed view. He looked down at the
wreck and the family of four. For the others in the valley, it might be about the carbon offsets and
punishing the defilers of Gaia; but for Chad, as the knives of the crowd came out, it was about the
meat.
It was so hard to find sustainable meat.