Thus Spoke Dope

My doppelgänger quietly rose to the podium and grasped my limp body. (I was not dead. That was a silly question for you to ask. I merely chose to be limp, like an ordinary, regular person would do.) He raised his hand, which was covered in dirt due to the many hours he had clearly spent tending his immense garden of beautiful, but extremely venomous and carnivorous, tulips. He had been blessed with the dominant gene of polydactyly, and it had blessed him well, with sixteen fingers on each hand, though this number was a mere five now as the rest had clearly been the evening snacks of the tulips. This was bizarre, as it indicated that the tulips were of an excessively aggressive variety banned by a secret international treaty and grown only in the deep forests of Banff National Park in Canada by the Secret World Government, under the direct supervision of Justin "Steel Heart" Trudeau, as he was known to the agents of the SWG. The possible membership of this organisation of my doppelgänger, who will henceforth be referred to as "Dope" for the purposes of simplicity, was concerning in itself, as agents of the Secret World Government were notoriously ruthless.

Dope used this raised hand to hypnotise the crowd. He used an ancient hypnosis technique known only to a select few. It had been invented Plato during his time in the cave (the story about the family living in the cave and seeing only their own shadows as he elaborated in "The Forms" was merely a quaint recalling of his childhood; this was true of almost all of his works and it was not until several centuries later that the founders of the Secret World Government applied their own revisionist spin and invented the personal of "Aristotle") and was passed down from generation to generation by the secret sect known as "Theophastron Securolitz Agaphlinto" (a name made up by Plato, who spoke not a word of ancient Greek and required an interpreter by his side at all times) - a name which was later abandoned in favour of the acronym of "TSA" and then modified again to "Transportation Security Administration," which was thought to be more trustworthy.

The crowd began to sway under the influence of his hand. If you followed the motions of their heads quite closely, you might see that they were moving in such a way to spell letters to words, one letter at a time. You might wonder to yourself what these mysterious words were. They were really just streams of obscenities. Dope was very dirty-minded, in the way that TSA members generally were. The members of the crowd began to mutter the words themselves. If you listened closely you might deduce a code in this language, a key to some sort of magical incantation known only to the TSA. You would be wrong. That is iditotic. They were just curse words. Grow up.

It was at this moment that Dope opened his mouth. Inside his mouth was a veritably grotesque creation of orthodontic surgery, a profession known to be in the pocket of the Secret World Government, their knives and poky instruments being attractive to hardline traditionalist members just as Justin Trudeau. His wisdom teeth had been rearranged to spell dirty words on the roof of his mouth. His molars had been sculpted into statues of giant snakes. Tiny onyx spiders had been stapled to his incisors, and his canines had been sharpened and then readjusted so far as to cut him when his lips moved. His jaw played accordion music when it moved.

He began to speak, which was probably painful given the knife-like canine teeth.
“Greetings, maggots.”
A trickle of blood escaped his oral cavity.
“I trust that you are all extremely unwell. If not now, then certainly later, because all of the food was contaminated with anthrax.”
This prompted a brief stir in the crowd, which was quickly silenced by a passing goat, who swore at them.
“The reason that you have been brought to this hateful place - ”
He took a second to spit profusely on the floor, which was rendered more grotesque by the blood.
“- is that we have a campaign announcement.”
The crowd gasped. Dope smiled to himself, which caused him to be cut even more. He had compelled them to do this by robbing them of their free will.
“This rotten stinking sack of flesh here” - he gestured at me (more blood) - “is running for an office.”
“What office?” asked a more mentally powerful member of the crowd.
Dope killed him with a brief wave of his hand. His mouth was freely bleeding by now.
“You will all find out in time, probably at a time that is extremely personally inconvenient to you, if you are alive by then, which although probable would disgust me.”
Some cymbals crashed in the distance. A fire truck ran over an ant somewhere.
“That is all. There will be no further questions,” he said, right before he unceremoniously popped like a grape, showering the crowd with his component parts.

The crowd was mildly unsettled by these developments. They began to file off to their daily, ordinary matters, which mostly involved going home and sleeping because these events occurred at two in the morning. Later they almost all died of thirst or heatstroke because these events occurred in the middle of the desert and they were all brought here by agents of the Secret World Government who rolled them up in carpets soaked in cat pee and brought them here on stolen FedEx planes. Before this happened, though, as they were just wandering off and were wondering how they were going to get to shelter and water without keeling over (they would not) they all found themselves to chant as follows (they would continue to do so continuously until their deaths, which so annoyed the local buzzards that they refused to feast on their dead bodies until they were all dead and the infernal chanting ceased):
“Comfed for Craziest Person
Comfed for Craziest Person
Comfed for Craziest Person”
I was never seen again.