Jaredcohenia
06-07-2007, 00:43
SIC:
President Barroso sat at his sugar cane plantation, sipping an iced tea while his African workers toiled in the sun harvesting. The workers could be classified as slaves, but for the sakes of human rights Barroso paid them.
His wife came out of the air conditioned villa behind him, she was wearing a football jersey, a pair of shorts, and her brown hair was in a ponytail. She walked next to her husband and watched the men work. "Dinner's ready," she told him. "It's soylent green." Barroso's ears perked.
"But...soylent green is people."
"I'm kidding!" She giggled, "it's steak. Come in before the food gets cold." She went inside.
"Boys," he turned towards the door, "you get food when I get back. Keep working." He went to his dinner table, a regular table with three seats. The President sat at the head of the table, his wife opposite him. He had one child so far, an infant who sat in a child seat. A black man walked up to the President with a humidor and opened it up, the president selected one and the servant cut it. The President then proceeded to light the cigar and eat dinner. The chef came out and observed the President. "Gustavo," the President called. Gustavo was the family's chef for many years, one of the few men the President sincerly trusted-from the region of Asunción. "This steak is delicious."
"The Cattle was raised in Franberry, this is the first time I have ever bought carne from that nation. It was not cheap, President. The taxes they charge on that carne is unbelievable." Suddenly, an idea had popped into the head of the president.
Why should my people pay so much taxes for this delicious steak... He wondered as he chewed on his dinner, I must do something about this.
"Come on, Alli..." His wife was trying to get the picky child to eat dinner as the president lost his train of thought. After he had finished, he retreated to his office to compose some sort of diplomatic message to the leader of Franberry and the rest of South America, perhaps to create some sort of alliance.
IC:
To: All South American Nations
As I am writing this now, I do realize that the North Americans, Asians, Europeans, whatevers have done what I have done. The idea came in my head while I was eating my dinner, my chef had complained of the high costs of taxes he had to pay to use prime meat from another South American nation. I realize that we pay enough taxes to the North Americans, the Asians, and the Europeans; why should we pay taxes to our fellow continental brothers?
An alliance must be made for the South Americans, a southern common market. My language would call it Mercado Comun do Sul while your language would call it Mercado Común del Sur, something we can use to transport currency, people, and movement and goods, and of course free trade.
Thank you,
President Manuel Barroso
President Barroso sat at his sugar cane plantation, sipping an iced tea while his African workers toiled in the sun harvesting. The workers could be classified as slaves, but for the sakes of human rights Barroso paid them.
His wife came out of the air conditioned villa behind him, she was wearing a football jersey, a pair of shorts, and her brown hair was in a ponytail. She walked next to her husband and watched the men work. "Dinner's ready," she told him. "It's soylent green." Barroso's ears perked.
"But...soylent green is people."
"I'm kidding!" She giggled, "it's steak. Come in before the food gets cold." She went inside.
"Boys," he turned towards the door, "you get food when I get back. Keep working." He went to his dinner table, a regular table with three seats. The President sat at the head of the table, his wife opposite him. He had one child so far, an infant who sat in a child seat. A black man walked up to the President with a humidor and opened it up, the president selected one and the servant cut it. The President then proceeded to light the cigar and eat dinner. The chef came out and observed the President. "Gustavo," the President called. Gustavo was the family's chef for many years, one of the few men the President sincerly trusted-from the region of Asunción. "This steak is delicious."
"The Cattle was raised in Franberry, this is the first time I have ever bought carne from that nation. It was not cheap, President. The taxes they charge on that carne is unbelievable." Suddenly, an idea had popped into the head of the president.
Why should my people pay so much taxes for this delicious steak... He wondered as he chewed on his dinner, I must do something about this.
"Come on, Alli..." His wife was trying to get the picky child to eat dinner as the president lost his train of thought. After he had finished, he retreated to his office to compose some sort of diplomatic message to the leader of Franberry and the rest of South America, perhaps to create some sort of alliance.
IC:
To: All South American Nations
As I am writing this now, I do realize that the North Americans, Asians, Europeans, whatevers have done what I have done. The idea came in my head while I was eating my dinner, my chef had complained of the high costs of taxes he had to pay to use prime meat from another South American nation. I realize that we pay enough taxes to the North Americans, the Asians, and the Europeans; why should we pay taxes to our fellow continental brothers?
An alliance must be made for the South Americans, a southern common market. My language would call it Mercado Comun do Sul while your language would call it Mercado Común del Sur, something we can use to transport currency, people, and movement and goods, and of course free trade.
Thank you,
President Manuel Barroso