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In Cincinnati, a man whose son died of heart disease which would have been easily treatable though a bypass which Obama Care denied, readied himself for what he hoped would be a long string of deadly revenge killings. The man entered a fine restaurant where the rich satisfied their grand dining palettes with steaks, potatoes, and pies. Within minutes, his guns would literally turn them into human mincemeat with his well aimed 9mm Glocks.
The man’s name was Conner Parish, and his son Dedrick had died unnecessarily of a blockage in his arteries. The insurance carriers did not want to spend $1,500 for Dedrick’s open heart surgeon, but angled instead for various blood thinning derivatives, mostly made from aspirin compounds, claiming the outcome would be the same. They were sadly wrong. The outcome turned out to be death, and Dedrick died of a massive coronary one year into his faulty treatment program which had been approved by all of the hard working Obama Care death squad goons who held Dedrick Parish’s life in their uncaring hands.
Conner Parish entered Fleisch’s Steakhouse just off of the main drag through town, where he would eventually confront and murder table after table of wealthy businessmen and investors including the various doctors and insurance decision-makers who had killed his only son. He finished a delicious meal which he then proceeded to pay for with bullets and passions which the rich feared as one of the few things that could even begin to touch them, since they owned the entire legal system.
These rich folks systematically paid for that system and what it did for them in big dollars they earned from their questionable manufacturing and service scams. They used them to accumulate millions of unearned dollars. For this, they provided as little work as they could get by with. After all, this type of citizen abuse had always been known by all as The American Way.
After he finished his last meal, Conner Parish stood up and announced his intentions in a booming and blood curdling voice, “I’m going to kill you folks right now, because my son was just buried today. He died because some of you decided you could get by without treating him properly for heart disease. It was cheaper to treat his condition with medicines which couldn’t do the job. None of you physicians in here stepped forward to help him. Now, any of you who moves one inch while I do my job of revenging his death will be the next one to get himself killed. Am I understood?” Heads nodded “Yes” throughout the room.
A woman close by told her husband, “Don’t move one twitch, honey. Do exactly what that man wants.” With that introduction and the woman’s command to her husband, Conner Parish began his killing spree. Physician after physician felt the bug spray of bullets as Conner’s little 9mm projectiles entered their heads and chests. The assemblage of rich investors, insurance executives, and physicians went down like spastic flies dying from bug spray. Blood leapt high into the air from their heads and chests. Each bullet released tiny blood pellets from the backs of their heads.
As Parish Conner progressed, the redness of blood began to coat the faces and clothing of nearly everyone who was close to his victims. The gunner walked through the establishment with its defenseless and unarmed diners aiming his bullets here and there, taking enough time to make each shot count.
The doctors’ expensive suits had not protected them. Instead, they had become useless visual rhapsodies of frail cloth inside the carnage that burst forth inside them. Blood covered their once graceful tables, steaks, forks, and floors. The groans of the dying survivors filled the room with a constant drone beneath the flow of Muzak sounds as weakening voices drifted over the myriad death clumps of more than one hundred victims. The scientifically calming selections of music whined softly and ironically over the surreal scene of death and dying.
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