Florida Governor Ron DeSantis lay hibernating in an underground burrow after previously capturing and consuming a stray cat. His head rested peacefully on his scaly, coiled body, a slight smile playing on his lipless mouth while he lay dreaming of EPCOT’s Spaceship Earth erupting in flames and crushing thousands of immigrants as it rolled over the Magic Kingdom. The massive geodesic ball was just about to squash a screaming, rainbow-attired Donald Duck when the governor was poked awake with a stick by an extremely nervous aide.
“Um, I’m sorry to bother you sir,” said the young man, his voice cracking with anxiety. “I really hate to disturb you but…”
He never finished his sentence.
DeSantis lunged at the unfortunate staffer, wrapping his serpentine body around the boy before swallowing him whole. Not one to be roused before his three-month digestive period finished, the governor went back to sleep.
A few hours later, DeSantis was approached by an even more nervous aide who now seriously regretted ever joining his university’s Young Fascists study group.
“Sir,” he stammered. “We received a report that a Ft. Myers teenager just used the gender-neutral term ‘they’ in a sentence.”
“WHAT!?” hissed DeSantis, now fully awake. “Take me to the Governor’s Mansion immediately!”
The sun streamed through the floor to ceiling windows, across the governor’s office, and onto a bookshelf solely populated with Giovanni Gentile’s complete works and what DeSantis insisted absolutely wasn’t Benito Mussolini’s embalmed skull.
“Thank you for joining us today,” began the governor to the group of reporters assembled before his desk.
“As we all know, wokeness in this state has completely run amuck. And I, for one, HATE,” he glared unblinking daggers at the aide who disturbed his hibernation, “being awoken before I’m done fully digesting my prey, as I assume most other humans do.”
The journalists shot quizzical glances at each other.
“Which is why,” continued DeSantis. “I am today signing a bill into law that officially bans the alphabet from being taught in public schools across Florida.”
The room erupted in flabbergasted outrage.
“That’s insane!” cried Brittany Rodin of the Tampa Bay Times.
“Why would you do that?” demanded John Rezende of the Ocala Gazette.
“Everyone calm your liberal histrionics!” shouted DeSantis over the cacophony. “To answer your wholly irrelevant, loaded, gotcha questions, we originally only wanted to ban the letters L, Q, B, T, Q, I, and A, but then realized that all the other ones are also gay—along with the plus sign, of course. We’re also banning arithmetic.”
“How on Earth is the letter K gay?” asked Rhonda Smithers of the Florida Times Union.
“I’ll be damned before letting a single Florida middle schooler even think of having a kiki!” replied DeSantis, all righteous indignation.
“And X?” inquired Samantha Gonzalez of the Miami Herald.
“Xe and xem are used to groom our young people into believing there are no genders,” responded the governor, increasingly annoyed.
“I fail to see how gay culture’s use of the English language,” began Elvira Smith of the Key West Citizen, “means that the letters that form their vernacular have any sort of sexual orientation…”
“They’re gay!” interrupted DeSantis at the top of his lungs. “Everything is gay! The alphabet is gay! You’re gay! The whole country is gay! And reading is gay! That’s why, if Florida students want to turn in a report, they’ll have to use voice notes!”
DeSantis threw himself to the floor, bit the ankles of everyone within reach, and slithered back to his burrow.
Some educational experts worry that banning the alphabet would fill Florida with illiterate, ignorant, omni-hating imbeciles, but those familiar with its residents know that boat has long since sailed.
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Andrew Otazo
'Miami Creation Myth' author Andrew Otazo has advised officials on Cuba policy, worked for the Mexican president, fired a tank, and ran with 30lbs of trash.
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