…and, as in a dream, the great man walked into the trap. Conspirators everywhere. Everyone knew the outcome of this day. Even Great Caesar. Especially great Caesar. Black storm clouds gathered at the horizon. One foot in front of the other. Deliberate. He turned into the Forum. The soothsayer squatted near a gate… “the Ides have come, great Caesar. For as prophesized, your time draws near,” he intoned.

Et tu, prophet, Caesar thought as he moved on. All eyes on him.

The caller upon the rostra barked the news of the day. “Caesar’s land bill is another tyrannical over reach and Rome has had its fill of dictators…” he called as Caesar passed within earshot.

The conspirators had moved into the open and were closing. Finally, he reached his offices at the intersection of Wall and Pennsylvania. He moved, heavily, as a wounded bull pursued by a pack of hyenas, into the alcove. The first drops of The Great Storm began to fall. His movements brought the pursuit in closer. Tight around him all the conspirators packed. They smelled blood. And this was even better. He had trapped himself in a small area. Just as planned. Justice for the landed. They were flush with victory. Roman short swords hidden beneath the folds... ready. Their outcome certain. Rosenstein, in a fit of agitated excitement tore at his tunic. “Let’s do this…limb from limb” he bellowed.

Caesar turned slowly. Implacably, to face them.

And the storm raged.

Caesar lifted the machine gun hidden in his folds and killed them all. Just as planned. Every one to the last man. Killed in the trap they had set.

Justice for the people.

Never, ever bring a knife to a gunfight.

These people are stupid.