America awakes to find it gone,
Then sits collectively staring at its empty mug,
As at a photo of a lover who has packed and departed.
Stunned, bewildered faces reflect in toasters and iphones across the land.
At Starbuck's, smiling baristas suggest tea,
And are left beaten and groaning in a pool of their own Darjeeling.
People simply stay in bed, listless, past caring.
The plotters' leader speaks:
"I fear that all we have done is to keep a sleeping giant asleep."
Her followers give her funny looks.
Some tilt their heads like dogs.
A list of demands arrives at the offices of People magazine.
* Remove all reality shows from the air, except for "Man Vs. Food"
* Equal pay for equal work for women
* 1 tub of Breyer's chocolate ice cream
* A date for the leader of the plotters with a certain famous female rock star
Fireblossom is arrested while blogging.
"How'd ya know it was me?"
Grim-faced FBI agents don't answer.
A judge is rousted out of bed (at 3 in the afternoon) and FB is arraigned.
The coffee is found in an E-Z Storage facility down the street,
Where she has rented every space.
The proprietor shrugs. "How could I have known?" he pleads, ankle-deep in grounds.
The rock star is interviewed.
"In-fuckin-credible," she says, shaking her trademark dark hair.
Another blogger visits FB in jail.
"You're such a dumbass," she says agreeably, and FB makes a wry face.
"I brought you some coffee."
Plots are plots, but friendship is forever.
Early morning gridlock returns.
America is saved.
As if God had ordained it,
A new reality show comes on.
"FB In Jail."