The Dictator's Sons

With all apologies to the Grimm Brothers...

I

Once upon a time (and once too many), a tyrannical dictator was given the news he dreaded. His doctors, who once told him that he was the healthiest man alive, had pronounced that he only had a few days left. After dispatching his doctors to the wall for execution for being honest about his condition, the dying dictator came to realize that his legacy had to continue in one form or another. 

Despite being bedridden, he dressed promptly for his final days. He put on his jacket adorned with fake military and civilian medals and awards, gaudy jewelry and his favorite gold plated military visor cap.  What better way to remind himself and his cabinet of the life achievements he hoisted upon himself. Also, when he finally leaves this mortal coil, he’d be able to impress the Grim Reaper and the angels he felt would welcome him to Heaven.  

But first things first; the dying dictator needed someone to carry on his legacy for decades to come. And his immediate choices were his three sons from three different mistresses. 

Which son will inherit his empire? He wondered. Which one had the right inheritance to become his connection to the future of his grand nation? 

He worked long and hard to lie, cheat and steal from the state to get where he was. His manipulating and authoritarian skills had served him well. But which boy would carry on his grandiose legacy? 

“Guards,” The dictator said in a low voice that still carried steel within it. “Get the boys and bring them to me.”

II

It didn’t take long for two of his boys to arrive. Charles the oldest and Philip the middle child immediately arrived when the guards told them of their father’s fate. They were, after all, a  part of his cabinet. 

Charles studied economics at the world's most prestigious university (outside the country, of course) and Phillip honed his intellect as an educator (also getting his degree at the most prestigious university outside the country). 

The dictator was nervous. He knew their capabilities. But were they the right fit for the job? Sure, their mothers were intellectuals (something he actually despised). But they were his sons and he was sure they were indoctrinated in the proper way of taking over his despot empire.

He wondered for a moment about the whereabouts of the youngest one. Then again, he was a hot head looking for a rebellion to quell as head of the secret police. Maybe it was for the best he wasn’t here, he thought. That boy was a mystery to him as was his extremely loyal, but conniving mother.  

“My boys,” he said hoarsely,” I built this great country and made it the world’s admiration, but my days are numbered and it won’t be long before I pass on.” 

The boys sullenly glanced at one another before turning their gaze back to their dear leader of a father. 

Charles was the first to speak: “Dear leader, you will be truly missed by the people under your rule. They’ll  never forget  how you stopped the invaders by using your superhuman strength to throw mere pine cones at their tanks and planes and stopped them in their bloody tracks.”

Phillip added: “And they will not forget, my dear leader, how you single-handedly plowed mountains to build grand cities, turned deserts into forests, and rerouted rivers and streams to supply water for our thirsty nation.”

These were not true, of course, but the dictator, who lived with delusional accomplishments savored hearing this stuff coming from his two sons. 

“Ah, good to hear. Always good to hear. The press of the past wouldn’t report that. Good thing we fetched them to the walls and got rid of them!”

“So my boys,” the dictator added. I must pass along my illustrious legacy to a worthy heir, and seeing your youngest didn’t bother to show up, tell me what you’d do in ruling this country?”

Charles spoke: “Dad, as leader and ruler of this grand state, I’d ensure the survival and prosperity of our people.” 

“Go on,” the dictator said, liking what he was hearing.

“I’d grant better health services for all and improve living wages for all including those on the bottom half of our society. They’ll  grow to know that our dear leader cares for all, and they’ll see that it’s yours and my vision that brought it about.”

The dictator was taken aback. In the glory of his legacy? But weren’t these things he shuddered years ago? Eventually, he cringed. Caring for the welfare of others was too much for him to handle. 

For a moment he stared at his oldest son in disbelief. He sighed and turned his gaze to Phillip. 

Without hesitation, Phillip began his selling point. 

“Dear leader, a Regime is only judged by the way it treats its people. And that’s what you’ve done.” 

The dictator smiled. Maybe Phillip is the right one.

Then, Phillip spoke again: “We improve the people’s education and let them know they can be leaders of the future. An educated populace will be able to carry your legacy.”

The dictator shuddered. An educated mass? Wasn’t this what he worked against?  Wasn’t this the reason he gutted the nation's universities and replaced the faculty and staff with goons that would regurgitate his decree upon the students? 

Anger fills within his frail body. He sat up, ready to pass his verdict on all this calamity he heard. 

Just then, the door crashed open. And in came a small fat man adorned with medals on his chest and emblems on his red visor cap. Behind him, a group of armed guards entered and lined up on each side of the door.

The stout man puffed his chest out and thrust out his bottom lip.

“Adorf!” the dictator responded at the sight of this spectacle. 

“Oh, Daddy,” Adorf replied. “Your legacy will live on. Let us hug!” 

The dictator opened his arm and Adorf came to embrace him. However, in doing so, he pulled out a knife and plunged it into his father’s back. 

“You’ll be a martyr for our cause, Daddy!”

Before Charles and Phillip could react to their youngest brother’s actions, Adorf whipped around to the guards that entered the room. 

“Arrest these traitors!” he roared. “And take these treasonous scums away! They’ll have a date with the firing squad!”

In a flash, the armed guards grabbed the brothers and dragged them away, despite their protests. 

The dictator clung to life but that was only a moment’s time away. He peered at Adorf. 

“Son,” the dictator strained to say.

“I learned from the best, Daddy!” Adorf said triumphantly. 

The dictator’s eyes widened just as a sly smile crossed his face. “Yes you did…” he finally said. 

“My liege!” 

As the lifeforce within him dripped away from his weakened body, the dictator felt assured. His legacy was intact and his empire will continue. He closed his eyes and drifted from the reality he created. 

III. 

Oddly, enough, there were no angels to greet him as he slipped into oblivion. This was not the "happily ever after" he envisioned.