by TAMMY, Alternate Reality Kidz News Service Life is so Unfair Writer
Fort Nothing to Bragg About, Texaware is a hard, cold, cruel place. It’s the Norma Desmond of places in Vesampucceri. Here, you will find four year-old members of Mexican gang Letter-Number shaking down three year-old members of rival gang Number-Letter for safety pin money. Word is that anything you want, you can get smuggled into the facility…for a price. Chocolate milk. Spiderman pyjamas. Pacifiers spiked with maple syrup. Anything.
Fort Nothing to Bragg About is not a place for children. Yet, thanks to the McDruhitmumpf administration’s Separate and Scatter policylet (part of its larger Zero Humanity policy), children as young as 18 months and as old as 126 months separated at the border from their parents can find themselves here.
“Don’t cry for us, Argentina,” said four and a half year-old Guillermo Acivederrez from behind the chain link fence that the government refers to as “a detainee incarceration facility that in no way resembles a cage, and we’re offended by the possibility that you would call it that, so don’t you dare!” I tried to point out to Guillermo that my name is not Argentina, but he continued over me: “We’re scum. Worst of the worst. We deserve to be – you got any Milk Duds? Man, I could kill for a Milk Dud!”
To illustrate his point about all the hard boys in the joint, Guillermo told me the story of six year-old Jose Luis Garcineznandez, a baby faced (as if the three year-old could look any different) enforcer for the Letter-Numbers. Garcineznandez made a shiv out of a Popsicle stick and, in the middle of the night, stole into the bed of a four year-old who he claimed had disrespected his momma, and stabbed the boy’s teddy bear Bottomo Gigio through the heart. “That shit is cold, man,” Guillermo shivered despite the hundred degree temperature inside the tent facility.
At first, reporters were not allowed to visit the places where children separated from their parents at the border were being kept. Secretary of Homeland Security Kirstjen Nielsenratingshit explained, “We…we’re doing that? I…I have no idea where these – can I get back to you on this?”
How did Guillermo respond to the President’s assertion that people who crossed the border illegally were all rapists and murders? “Gunnnngh mumba mmmmm…” Taking the pacifier out of his mouth, he explained, “Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t know what it is about these things, but they’re just so darn addictive!”
And, the question? “Rapists and murderers, hunh?” he mused. “Murderers and rapists. I…I have no idea what those are. Some kind of weird americano pastries? Cause, nobody ever called Guillermo Acivederrez sweet!”
Doesn’t this policy of jaili – “Uhh, uhh, uhh,” interrupted the Immigration Corralling and Expulsing Service (ICES). “We don’t use that word, and neither do you.”
Oh. Umm. Well…doesn’t this policy of…detainee incarcerationing make Vesampucceri a literal nanny state? “I don’t see how,” Secretary Nielsenrating answered. “I…I don’t even like goat cheese.” In the broadest sense of the term “answered.”
When asked what the government planned to do with all the children it was collecting (without any idea of what constituted a complete set), Secretary Nielsenrating looked like an undocumented immigrant in headlights. “Plan? Do we look like a government with plans? The mob has plans. The cops have plans. Gordon’s got…” She shook her head before continuing: “I, uhh, mean…can I get back to you on this one, too?”
I started to ask Guillermo about what his plans were for the “Give me a moment, will you?” he interrupted. “I think I just saw a CNN reporter…” He took a moment to compose himself, then started bawling his eyes out, yowling in Spanish about how he wanted his mother. Several of the children in adjacent cag – incarceration happy places joined in. After several minutes, Guillermo looked around and said, “Is she gone?” Satisfied that whoever he was looking for was gone, he dried his eyes.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“Favour for Nancy Pelosi,” Guillermo told me. “It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
When I was certain it was okay to continue, I asked Guillermo what his plans for the future were. “I’m a live in the moment kind of guy,” he told me. “The future? It’s a lineup for the diaper changing area that’s so long you can’t even see the end of it. I’ll probably die in here. But that don’t mean I can’t have a good time. What are you doing after the interview? Wanna ditch the mic and grab some Gerber’s baby food? I hear peas and carrots are good this time of year…”