The People of Babylon (If You Know What I Mean)

The people of Babylon (if you know what I mean) were gathered for the spectacle at the Duraplain stadium; it was a beautiful day, without a cloud in the sky.  Beer and popcorn venders roamed the crowds, going up and down upon the aisles to hawk their wares. The announcer addressed the crowd through the PA system, “Welcome loyal fans, and please greet with me the Babylon High School Marching Band and Honor Choir. When you hear the sound of the trumpet, and drums, and sackbut, and zither, and bagpipe, and all the musical ensemble with the choir, stand to your feet, remove your turbans and salute the symbol that your great leader has set before you.”

And when the band began to play the familiar dotted-eighth note, sixteenth note followed by three quarter notes and a half note melody of the hymn To Anacreon in Heaven, all the assembled people of Babylon (if you know what I mean) stood as one, doffed their turbans, and saluted the object of their religious worship. 

And when the final swelling tones of the hymn echoed into the distance, everyone replaced their turbans and solemnly uttered the ritual prayer, “Thank you for your service.”

Everyone but one. 

One jerk. One freak refused to stand, or to salute. This one piece of human trash refused to sing the anthem or to say the prayer. The people of Babylon (if you know what I mean) standing near him began to boo and to jeer. They hissed at him, threw rocks at him. “Go back to the shithole country you came from!” they shouted at him, and, “Burn in hell, you eunuch!”