Ramage to the Rescue?

It had been a long day. One of those days when you just want to go home, curl up with a blanket and a hot cup of tea, and watch your favorite movie until your eyelids fall heavy with sleep. Work was difficult. What else is new? I was walking down Broad Street, becoming ever closer to the comfortable haven I call home. It was a nice evening; the air was cool, crisp. I hugged my jacket a little tighter as the breeze blew by and glanced to my far right. Something had caught my eye.

A large group of people, some holding multi colored signs with pictures of Plato on them, had gathered in front of a building. Subconsciously, my feet turned toward the direction of the group; I wanted to take a closer look. The building they marched in front of seemed never ending. The architecture was long and strange with thick glass windows that were almost impossible to see through. I glanced over a few heads to try and make out the name of the wondrous masterpiece that was etched over the front door.

“Ramage’s Rhetorical Reasoning, Inc.” I read aloud, “I’ve heard of this place.”

“And destroy it we must!” a strange character obnoxiously hissed in my face. I had gotten dangerously close to the group, without noticing, and had finally realized what was going on; it was a protest.

“Speak from the heart! Never compromise!” Another shouted hastily, grabbing my arm and dragging me further into the crowd. People began swarming in my direction. The next thing I knew I had a sign in my hand and was following the crowd in the protest they had formed.

“What is this all about?” I asked the person next to me nervously. I wanted very much to leave but was too intimidated and remained in my place.

“These rhetorical scum bags are trying to convince people that what we say is too serious. Every time we are able to get people to follow our ways they are taken by the Rhetoricians and convinced that there are many other options. They think they know everything, they know nothing! GRAVITAS, GRAVITAS!” he continued shouting, a few others joined in.

“Conform to us, we will win!” a women whispered in my ear. “It is time. We know the way. You will be happy with us. You will be pleased.”

Unsure and belittled, I stumbled along. As another strange hand grasped onto my arm I closed my eyes. This had to be a bad dream. I was being pulled in two different directions, but didn’t resist either of them.