I can’t breathe, Lt. Smith said.

Everybody at the pro-police party laughed.

Mama, mama, Lt. Smith said.

Everybody laughed harder.

Please, I can’t breathe, Lt. Smith said.

Uncontrolled hilarity ensued.

Unable to breathe and calling for his dead mother embodied some of the late George Floyd’s last words before he died May 25 at the hands and knees of Minneapolis police. Those same words made corrections officers Lt. Smith and Capt. Jones the life of the party.

Illegal fireworks burst in the air and lit the sky above the post-rally celebration. Supporting law enforcement didn’t take much thought. The “Protect and Serve” protest to uphold police brutality went better than expected. About 400 people from the town and surrounding communities showed up, mostly self-professed patriots who refused to be called protestors and threatened bodily harm to several members of the press who asked simple questions.

The white Reverend blessed the white crowd and asked his blue-eyed Jesus to protect white people from the rioting black savages.

At the rally Big Bob, Vic and Buck clung to their rifles, silently stone-faced as they stood guard at the front of the stage. Vic asked more than one reporter if he or she was Jewish. But all three men laughed so hard they cried at the after-rally party when Lt. Smith and Capt. Jones began their re-enactment of George Floyd’s death.

Face down on Big Bob’s drive-way with his hands clasped behind his back like they were cuffed, Lt. Smith mimicked the troubled 46-year-old black man who changed the world. Making a face and pushing out his lips, he imitated his twisted interpretation of black dialect and wished he had remembered to apply black face before starting the show.

Kneeling on his neck, Capt. Jones acted out his part with stern efficiency.

I can’t breathe, Lt. Smith said.

Capt. Jones casually put his hand in his pants pocket.

The all-white revelers, including numerous off-duty cops, roared their approval.

I can’t breathe, Lt. Smith said.

Relax, Capt. Jones said.

My stomach hurts, Lt. Smith said.

Capt. Jones put a melodramatic look on his face and asked a question.

What do you want?

Everything hurts, Lt. Smith said.

Yawn.

I’m about to die, Lt. Smith said.

Capt. Jones looked bored.

They’re going to kill me, Lt. Smith said.

The partiers raised their voices and their beer cups.

Lt. Smith blew out one big exaggerated final breath of air.

Whooosh.

Capt. Jones reached down and lifted Lt. Smith’s arm. He checked his pulse, in the process making a series of farfetched faces.

Partiers laughed so hard they struggled to keep their videos focused. Within minutes Facebook blew up with video of and comments about the deadly force depiction. Lt. Smith and Capt. Jones became online heroes, what our grave new world calls influencers.

Classic.

One of a kind.

Lethal.

Almost as good as the real thing.

For eight minutes and 46 seconds, the two white nationalist corrections officers acted out the police killing of George Floyd. When the performance ended, Lt. Smith got up from the driveway and took a bow with Capt. Jones.

With handshakes and hugs all around, everybody stampeded to the bar to support their local police.

The real George Floyd went back to staying dead.