The name's Donald Sweet and I spin top forty singles for KCUF FM here in the wonderful city of Springfield Missouri and at night I raise the dead. That's right I'm a necromancer. A hobbyist really. Necromancy is something I do to keep my idle hands busy when I'm not spinning the latest Katy Perry single. With a little rock salt, chicken blood and the right Sumerian incantation I can raise the most ancient of corpses. I've gotten pretty good at my hobby.
I've grown a little bored lately. I mean having a conversation with the dead is pretty interesting but there's only so much to talk about. For instance last week I raised the corpse of Tim Dunwitty out of the Green Lawn cemetery. He was a suicide. Now I was raised Roman Catholic and suicide was an unpardonable sin. One which sent you straight to hell to burn for all of eternity. But while talking with Tim I learned there wasn't any hell. No fire. No brimstone. No lake of fire and no Devil waiting to torture your soul for all of eternity. This excited me because it meant that I would one day meet my idol Kurt Cobain in Heaven. I'd be able to chat with the voice of my generation. Fucking awesome.
After about half an hour of listening to the sad sack story of Tim's reason for self inflicted murder I laid him to rest once again. I was thoroughly depressed by his story so I went home and flushed the story from my mind with half a fifth of Old Crow. I changed out of my blood soaked clothes and went to bed.
So I've grown tired of conversations with corpses and need something to make my hobby fun once again. Now I'm not sure what I'll do but I have an idea and let me tell you it will be huge.
I've had a lot of time on my hands at work in between singles and have developed what I feel is the perfect plan. One that will bring the romance of necromancy back into my humble life.
Let me tell you just a little bit more about me. I dig indie rock especially our hometown heroes Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin. I'm also a gun nut. I have everything from semi-automatic to fully automatic AK47 assault rifles. I also have a small cache of pistols, at last count I have thirty. I even have a Gatling gun. That was hard to find but here in Springfield there's plenty of gun shows. I rarely fire these guns but I have them just in case there's an invasion or something. These guns are about to come in handy. Just wait I'm about to tell you why. Get ready...
My master plan is to raise thirty four corpses. All Confederate soldiers from The Springfield National Cemetery. There are hundreds buried in the cemetery. All men who fell during the Battle of Wilson's Creek. Now you probably are wondering why the soldiers. I'm forming a small army to take over the city. I plan on overthrowing Mayor Jim O'Neal and instating myself as King of the Queen City. I think I will make a good King. I might even declare, as my first act as King, all housing free. And I'm definitely going to take money from the rich and give it to the poor because I've been poor and I know how much it sucks.I'll be a benevolent ruler. I'll be loved by all.
I'm taking a little time off from KCUF. I need to bone up on my Sumerian chants. Maybe even learn a few more powerful incantations. After that it'll be time to raise my army of dead men. I've taken two weeks off and have checked out many ancient Sumerian texts from the local Greene County library. I'm giving myself a week of study and then it'll be time to raise the dead.
It's Saturday April 16th and I'm in the cemetery. It's the witching hour and I'm pouring out rock salt in a circle of power. Inside I have three caged roosters and one hen. I couldn't find a goat and yes, I know goats are more powerful when raising the dead but Pet Smart didn't have any. I stole the roosters from a farmer on the outskirts of town and the hen well, I've had her from a month now. I finish making the circle of power and pull out my Bowie knife ready to slit some throats and spill blood on the ground. I'm standing near a cluster of markers labeling the dead as part of the Confederacy. I slit one throat and spill the blood on the dry ground. I mutter an ancient incantation in Sumerian. This is a new incantation, one I learned last week, and it is supposed to be very powerful. And it is. All at once, as I finish mumbling, twenty four out of the thirty four corpses I want to raises pull themselves out of the ground. They immediately salute me as their superior commanding officer. I slit another throat and mumble a little more and ten more, the last of my army, corpses rise. They salute and I salute and I give them a little time to adjust to being alive once again. I set the last rooster and the hen free.
After about ten minutes of adjustment I begin arming my corpse soldiers. I have a team of three carry the Gatling and we make our way to Mayor O'Neal's house. We have to dispose of him before we take on the rest of city council. Within an hour of marching we arrive at his house on Boonville. I send in a scout armed with a glock. Within minutes I here two shots fired. One for O'Neal and one for Mrs. O'Neal. My scout returns with blood all over his tattered gray uniform.
I've disposed of the Mayor now for the rest of City Council. But wait, I hear sirens. Damn. Someone must have heard the shots and called SPD. It's going to be nearly impossible to avoid the pigs. The dead walk rather slowly. We wait. I tell the men to get ready for a shoot out. We ready the Gatling. Ten cops arrive on the scene and immediately my men begin their assault. Within minutes, thanks to the power of the Gatling, the cops are retreating. Running like scared children. We begin moving again. By sunrise we've disposed of City Council without any harassment from the SPD. My army of dead men have accomplished their goal and none to soon because they're beginning to fade, to fall, the life I've given them is slipping away like sand through a seive.I lead them back to the cemetery and one by one I lay them to rest.
Around eight a.m. I call up the local news crews and let them know that a hobbyist who specializes in necromancy raised an army of dead Confederates and disposed of the mayor and the rest of city council. I tell them my name and tell them I am now King of the city and will be holding a press conference at the city square. I tell them to be their at eleven because I need breakfast first.
At eleven I announce to the city I am their king and that my first act is to free all renters from paying rent. I tell the city I will be taking money, through higher taxation, from the rich and giving it to the poor and disenfranchised of the city. I tell them I will be a fair ruler and I tell them that I need a Queen and that any women should apply at my newly acquired house, Mayor O'Neal's old home. Then I cut it off. I've said all I need to.
Well, my stint as King of Springfield didn't last long. Governor Nixon sent in the National Guard and I was removed from my throne. I now reside at the Federal Penitentiary for the Mentally Insane in Jefferson City. I'm serving two life sentences. My dream of being King lasted all of two days. Now I'm just a number in the system. At least they gave me pen and paper.
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