I attach it to the bottom of my left shoe with all the others. I go to the steps of the Library. There I remove that shoe, grab Guy Fawkes' Soap Box, and climb on top of it. I hold up the shoe for everyone to see. "Ha! See this? See the signs of Fascist Decadence?! Those Dictatorial Oppressors in the Establishment dole out these silly awards for staying inside the lines, for playing by their rules." I sneer at the crowd. (Actually it's just the Brass Monkey, the Fat Lady, and my good friend Trashcan, but the Fat Lady alone is near enough a crowd as I can figure.) "Well, those hypocrites had better get the message that we aren't going to take it anymore! The masses who work and slave for their few miserable points will overthrow the Establishment! Our day is coming! We burdened Serfs will rise against our Oppressors!" I bang the shoe on Trashcan for effect. "The Institutions will fall! The Senate will burn!" Trashcan looks unenthused, so I yell "Burn! Burn!" a few more times. I grapple in the pockets of my bright red Champion's Cloak for my matches. Dizzy with righteous ferver, I pull the matchbox open upside down. Matches sprawl everywhere. Grabbing one, I ignite it and try to set the Silver Stripe on fire. It will not burn, of course, but my shoe is quickly engulfed in flame, and in yowling agony I drop it. To cover for this, I shout, "Unite! Unite against the Establishment!" and hold up my burned left hand. I try to make a fist out of the hand, but it hurts. The Fat Lady makes some comment about going and getting a cheeseburger; she wanders off. "The Capitalist Rulemakers will be hanged!" I cry out. "You may not believe me today, but the day is coming, and coming soon! Equality for all players, not just those rich fat cats who have dough! Ownership is out! Burn your Ackadollars!" I grab a fistful of A$ from my pocket and try to burn them, but maddeningly enough they won't catch either. "Ow!" The Monkey must have run off somewhere, because now I am alone with Trashcan and Guy Fawkes' Soap Box in the road. Suddenly it begins to rain-- big drops, a real gullywasher. I look up, and through the downpour I see the marble columns of the Senate building in the distance. I shake my good fist at it. "Capitalist dogs! Your day is nigh!" As I step down from Guy Fawkes' Soap Box, a loose nail catches my left foot and rips a nice gash in it. I limp back to my home. --Mohammed