"MY WORD IS LAW!"

Can you imagine these lovelies hanging at the end of a rope?

     The cruel despot stood atop the dais in the center of the huge arena. All about him, on a triggered platform, stood young men...five thousand in number...ranging in age from sixteen to twenty-three. They were dressed all in black...long-sleeved, hooded and gloved sweatshirts, baggy shorts, socks and sneakers. Their tanned legs were bare from the top of their thighs to just below their calves. Their hands were tied behind their backs, their feet at the ankles. Between their feet, securely tied to their ankle-bindings, were thirty-pound weights. Nooses were placed snugly about their necks.

     The despot looked all about him. He smiled as he gazed at the multitude that were about to be executed. Then, his smile faded and his countenance grew somber and serious.

     "You all know the law...that no legs shall be shown by any man", he shouted. Then, pointing down at the five thousand youths, he continued: "These youths sought to usurp that law. They have failed...and now they shall pay the supreme price, dressed as they wished to be".

     The despot turned to look at the executioner whose hand would activate the trigger and send the five thousand young men to their deaths. He turned once more to look at the black-clothed youths who stood there...waiting silently for their end. As he gazed at them, the despot nodded his head...and the trigger was pressed.

     As the audience watched, the floors beneath the young men fell out from under them and the weights fell to the ground. As they did, there was a horrendous sound as all five thousand necks snapped simultaneously. Crimson stained the inside of each hood as arteries, veins and capillaries broke and blood spewed from the tear ducts, noses and mouths. Urine and liquid feces poured down the front and back of the legs of the suspended youths as their bowels and bladders contracted involuntarily. Then, the arena went silent...save for the soft dripping of human waste from the twitching sneaker-covered feet of the condemned.

     One person alone laughed maniacally. The despot clapped his hands and tears of joy flowed from his eyes as he watched the death throes rippling through the bare thighs, knees and calves of the hanged youths, triggered by electrical impulses from their brains as they were suddenly disrupted.

     Suddenly, all was silent once again as the despot looked around him for approval to the mass-hanging. But, there was none.

     "What is wrong with you people?" he shouted. "I am the supreme ruler of this land. My word is law!!! These youths broke the law...and breaking the law means death!"

     He looked about him some more.

     Still...silence.

     "When I sentence people to hang publicly", he roared, "I expect to hear sounds of praise...applause...and laughter!"

     Still...silence.

     "Laugh!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, almost drowning out the crack that came from behind him.

     The despot fell dead over the wall in front of him, the back of his head blown open. Behind him stood a young man, dressed identically as the condemned, a smoking gun in his hand. As he dropped the gun onto the floor, the young man fell to his knees...and began to laugh.

     Soon, the arena was filled with laughter and applause. Not for the deaths of the five thousand youths who hung in the arena, their spasms slowly coming to an end, their paling legs stained yellow and brown...but for the one man who ordered them hanged.