Recorded by the author at The Mark Twain House & Museum, July 26, 2024
A well-groomed explorer stepped out of his rowboat, spyglass in one hand, flag in the other. He was dressed in exquisite red and gold fabrics without a crease, nor a flaw in its sewing. His face was perfectly clean shaven. His boots impacted the sand with as much elegance as he could muster. He adjusted his large brimmed hat to gaze upon his new discovery.
It was a beautiful tropical landscape with a golden beach, vibrant green palm trees, and a cloudless blue sky as far as the eye could see. He knew it was fertile land ripe for building grand, vast plantations of tobacco and tomatoes. And he imagined it wasn’t too light on gold either. The explorer’s head was filled with thoughts of triumph. Town criers would announce his new discovery. It would be spoken of for centuries, perhaps millenia, to come. He would be hailed as a national hero. The king would grant him governorship over the new colony. He and his family would be set for life. They would live in a massive, luxurious, well guarded mansion. They would have no shortage of fresh tropical fruit, fat juicy meats, ornately decorated furniture, and servants to tend to his every need.
And so, looking forward to a bright future, he vigorously planted the flag of his country. It made a loud squelch as it punctured the body of a fallen native. His reddened, mangled form was but one of many among men, women and children. They lay bloodied and dismembered strewn across the beach in large, scorched impact craters. Some of them were carrying nets, baskets, or food. None of them carried weapons.
The explorer looked upon his victory, and his face twisted into a satisfied smile. And with unmatched arrogance, he declared: “This will be the fate that befalls all who resist us.”