"Tell us again about the struggle days, Grandpa."
"Well, I'll never forget my first battle. Fists, feet and weapons flying. I fought like a tiger."
"Did you win, Grandpa?"
"I got a TV set and a computer before the police arrived."
"Wow!" The grandchildren look reverently at the large flat screen TV dominating the lounge space.
"After that, you could say I was a veteran. Beer and grocery trucks, factories, schools, you name it. We fought the good fight up and down the province."
"Why did you call it RET?"
"Because we returned the economy to its rightful owners. The people."
"So you took it all back from the oppressors?"
"Yes, we burnt the lot to ashes. Taught them a lesson they'll never forget."
"Gosh, Grandpa, you had an exciting life."
"Yes, my children." With a grand sweep of his arm, Grandpa takes in the scenery outside. Burnt trucks litter the verges of the roads, blackened skeletons of buildings dot the green countryside.
"And one day, all this will be yours."
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