"Sorry, m'lord," was the reply. "Some of them are my cousins. Mostly they are looking for work and a chance at a decent lifestyle. Could you not authorize the Treasury to spend money repairing the damage from the hurricane in your district, and so forth?"
"Nonsense!" Cantors eyes flashed with rage. "That would require returning our tax rates to the era of Lord Reagan. We may revere his name, but his tax rates were positively socialist and his willingness to talk things over with this political opponents is out of fashion. Men, take that communist away and throw him onto the streets!"
The servants hesitated. The oldest asked, hesitantly, "But, my lord, what will his family do? How can any family live when our jobs are exported and most of the wealth of the nation is in the hands of the 400?"
Lord Cantor stood enraged. "Let them eat Koch!" he commanded, "Obey Us, or We shall bring America's economy to a halt. Don't think that We won't! Your pensions and the health care of your children shall go first!"
There was a pause, as the servants conferred among themselves. Should they obey Lord Cantor, or were they loyal to the 99 per cent of America from whom they had sprung?
Truly it was a hard choice; to obey and earn a temporary security, or to hazard their livelihoods, their meager fortune, and their sacred Honor in a quest to bring back an America free from the Aristocracy of Wealth. Truly it was a time to come together and to talk it over.
What came next?
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