Rumors that Bongbong Marcos might announce a bid for the presidency this weekend electrified loyalists, who yesterday started massing at their traditional venue, Payatas Dumpsite.
"It's perfect!" chortled the man in charge, Ghoul Purol. "Binay, Poe and Roxas are busy fighting it out. When they've destroyed each other, out of the carnage shall emerge our master, Ferdinand Mini Me!"
Calling attention to the loyalists who had already arrived at the site, he said proudly, "look at them, not a single brain among them; they're invincible, no coherent thought or fact can penetrate those thick skulls."
He admitted, "of course, they have difficulty figuring out how to use doorknobs, which is why we hold our rallies in open fields like this."
Describing himself as a "Necromarcos and part-time gorilla impersonator," Purol announced he would begin the elaborate ceremonies for assembling the Marcos family's traditional constituencies. He beat a small drum and called out, "I call on the loyalists, the crazies and the zombies! Your master needs your show of support. And remember, when coming forward, it's left-right, left-right. With the feet, not just the hands, OK"?
Next, he reached into a tattered, filthy pouch and pulled out an ancient tome. Blowing the dust away, he said, "this is our book of power, The Marcos Truth, Behest Loans and Guide to Swiss Interest Rates."
Turning to a page, he shouted: "Let the foul things of the night be unshackled! By the hideous power of Meldy the Balrog, half croc, half hippo, I call on you! Show yourselves! I summon the creatures of the Showbeast Government! I call on the Witch King of AngMarcos and his Nazdrool! Let appear the trolls, the fake accounts, the sockpuppets! The ghost voters, the meme makers, the YouTube watchers and gibbering Get Real jobless losers. The horrors who post without brains, the creatures who believe they're geniuses. Gather around me!"
When nothing happened, he sighed, reached into a sack and threw a wad of dollar bills into the air. "Let the Swiss caverns be emptied, but only of their interest, of course."
Immediately the dump site filled with a mad rush accompanied by incoherent cries of greed. As Purol ducked, one of his bags fell over, scattering numerous scrolls. "Oh don't worry about that, those aren't magic spells, those are just fake Oxford diplomas, we have a million of them."
Looking at the gathered Marcos minions with satisfaction, the necromancer said: "Now we are ready."
Purol yelled: "Who do we want for President?"
The loyalists roared: "Marcos!"
Purol yelled: "When do we want it?"
The loyalists roared back: "Yes!"
Purol said, "OK, they're not very bright. That's why they're loyalists."
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