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The Trojan War: An Epic of Political Incorrectiality

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It was simply another day in the land of Troy. The Trojan citizens had just disarmed a group of Separatist Extremist rebels who had been hoping to destroy the city, but not without some loss. A good sixteenth of the city had been destroyed, not to mention the fact that the morale of the people was greatly depleted after such a well planned maneuver. In fact, the attack would probably have been successful were it not for the fact that the king’s daughter was allergic to Separatist Extremists.

Thank heavens for watery eyes and runny noses.

The Trojan soldiers managed to intervene just in the nick of time. Otherwise, the town would surely have been destroyed. As it was, much of the city had to be rebuilt. The smoke of the latest attack hung in the atmosphere like a warning, as though the Trojans wouldn’t be so lucky next time…

While the reconstruction of the city was underway, the rebel group had made their hasty retreats back to their own lands and prepared for battle anew. Humiliation and loss had spurned on their desire for victory over Troy, even though they had nothing but their loincloths to commend themselves to the war lords of their country. You can just imagine what kind of humiliation greeted them as they scrambled back to their homes, filled with hope that their arrival would go undetected. They seemed to have forgotten that it was market day and so everyone was outside, milling about in the streets until midnight. Their lack of victory over the land of Troy earned them quite a shaming. And so they vowed that the next time… the next time, the Trojans would pay…


While the house building was underway, the Communists and the Separatist Extremist prepared for battle. Armed with nothing but loincloths, they proceeded to massacre the city of Troy.

Again.

You'd think they would have learned their lesson by now.

No more trusting horses. Especially wooden ones. Devious varmints they are. (You know, that battle of 1812 was pretty gruesome).
But no matter how gruesome any war between the French and English could have been, the level of nastiness paled in comparison with what went on in Troy.
It was the dead of night. Trickles of people were slowly making their way back to their houses after a rather interesting development at the local pub. Not only had a warning been broadcasted to watch for a rebel group hoping to steal their land and destroy their livelihood, but they were planning to do it with nucular weapons. That’s right: Nucular. The people who were leaving the pub did so with furtive glances in all directions as though an enemy missile might just come blasting out of the heavens and hit them. Little did the enemy know that what they had in store for the Trojans and the battle itself were not two mutually exclusive events.
And so a new day dawned in the land of Troy. As the Trojans looked out their windows at dawn, they couldn't believe what they saw. Everywhere they gazed, loincloths littered the city. They covered the ground, the trees like deflated balloons, the houses and even the homeless people who had slept outside. Dratted Communists and Separatist Extremists. Or were they Extremist Separatists? Or Liberals? Or, God forbid, Republicans? The Loincloths ensnared the city of Troy in a stench too gruesome and pungent to dissect. For the rest of the year, the Trojan citizens were forced to wear gas masks in case they caught Mesothelioma or Anorexia Nervosa from the purgatory of what were the loincloths. As for the Communists and the Separatist Extremists/Extremist Separatists/Liberals/Republicans, having done away with their undergarments and absconded with their loincloths, they were forced to proceed with a hasty retreat and forgo the spectacular attack they had planned for Troy. They returned to their numerous hovercraft and headed straight back to whence they came. The Trojans spent the rest of the week picking up after the heartless and idiotic terrorists. (Did someone just say terrorists? What?) A loincloth dump was established by the people in order for them to be composted and recycled (the loincloths, not the people). Needless to say, the gardens in Troy flourished the year after this strange and unlikely encounter. Not that they knew who had done it of course.
Had it been pirates with an odd and perverse sense of humor? Aliens who had nothing better to do? Republicans hoping to gain control over troy? William Shakespeare himself trying to prove that he wasn't just a hopeless romantic with an obsession with cross-dressing? Sigmund Freud proving that everything has a basis upon sexual desire? Dante trying to create another hell? Bible thumpers acting out on the words of their precious god: thou shalt befoul and bestink the city of troy?"
Who knows? The people of Troy sure don't.





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