Ted got out a pack of crayons and set them on the table next to a large piece of construction paper. He opened the pack and sniffed that crayon-y smell fresh out of the box. He took out the macaroni-and-cheese one and began to draw a map of Iowa.
Drawing this map of Iowa and then dividing it into its ninety-nine counties was the only way he could unwind and relax tonight. It helped him take his mind off the stress and put his energies into something creative and powerful and beautiful and intuitive.
He just wished that President Reagan could see him now. His drawing was sure to look great and represent the heart of America, but he wanted more than anything for Reagan to be proud of him,
One day, though, he would make the man happy, he thought as he marked a giant green X over Des Moines.
Continue reading “[Election ‘016 51] Eve of Iowa” »
Jim vs Jim
Jim Webb stands, panting, surrounded by a pile of cybernetic corpses of a hundred thousand Neo-Union soldiers.
One mangled robotic body of George McClellan attempts to grab Jim’s leg and pull him back into a fight, but Jim stomps on the robot’s arm, severing it from the rest of the body. He plugs a bolt of lead into McClellan’s cybernetic head to finish him off.
His phone starts ringing in his pocket. He knows he needs to answer it. As always, Senator Lindsey Graham is the voice on the other side of the phone. That monster is always at the end of these battles, Jim has learned.
Continue reading “[Election ‘016 035] Jim vs Jim” »
The murmur of idle chatter and the scooting of restless foldout chairs filled the auditorium. Thousands of people, clad in torn up wife beaters and Marlboro light jackets, sat densely packed under the blaring stadium lights. A small man in a white and black striped shirt walked unnoticed from a side entrance and made his way up to the center of the ring, where a microphone dangled from the ceiling. He tapped on the microphone three times with his knuckled and the crowd silenced themselves, their eyes drawn to the man.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls. People of all age, color, and creed are gathered under this roof for one thing and one thing only…” the man said into the microphone, holding onto the syllables for dramatic effect. “To celebrate our fine nation’s democratic system…. with a good ol’ fashioned smackdown!” Continue reading “[Election ‘016 28] Cage Match” »
The pale-skinned man sprayed his face with metallic paint, and, as the men next to him cheered him on, leapt onto a nearby car in a fiery explosion of stupidity and also fire. The car was perfectly intact, because, obviously it was protected from suicide bombers. It was the President’s fucking car. They thought of shit like suicide bombing road bandits when they built cars for Presidents.
“Dammit!” Martin O’Malley shouted, slamming his fist onto his desk. The sheer force of the impact cratered the desk. “Get me a new desk, this one is wearing out!” Several men rushed in, grabbed the desk, and carried it away from the Campaign HQ control room, hopefully bringing in a new one soon enough.
Continue reading “[Election ‘016 018] O’No!” »
Jim Webb sits in a Waffle House diner in Richmond, trying to decide whether to order hashbrowns or to splurge and buy a steak. In the back of his mind, he wonders how he’s going to be able to burn off the excess calories from the meal, but right now he’s trying to enjoy himself.
Continue reading “[Election ‘016 004] A Webb of Sinister Design” »