The leading presidential candidates managed to compromise to salvage the final debate. They still won't meet at the same place but they've agreed to debate by video conference, with Dick at The White House, O'Couscous at The Playboy Mansion, and Polipo at some union bingo hall in South Philly. Everyone else Francine knows is sick to death of the election and just wants to get it over with, but Francine, like any other political junkie, can't wait for another campaign fix. And, this is the last debate of the campaign (well, except for the vice-presidential debate, but no one cares about that, probably not even the vice-presidential candidates).
The debate opens with Tim Rustle, a journalist with the personality of a rotten turnip, welcoming the viewers to an empty auditorium. "This debate, as you know, was supposed to be right here live tonight in Key West, Florida, but due to disagreements among the candidates, it will be virtual instead courtesy of ZZZZZZ, Inc. . . ."
He drones on for a bit more, but Francine gets up to use the bathroom. When she returns, Dick is sitting in the Oval Office, explaining his plan to reform Social Security, " . . . Well, folks, I hate to tell you, but due to our continual deficits and debt, I've had to borrow from the Social Security trust fund in order to keep the government going, but that shouldn't be a problem because I'll just have the Federal Reserve print up more money to cover the difference. It's a little like when you have to loot your child's piggybank when you're out of money and you need to make it to the next paycheck. Your kid will understand and you'll pay it back eventually. In the meantime, you've also taught your child the valuable lesson that he or she should hide his money better next time . . ."
Rustle attempts to interrupt, but Dick ignores him, ". . . it's either that or we have to choose between the social part of Social Security and the security part of Social Security, and half the country will be upset either way. Life's full of choices, just like this election. You can either choose me, an experienced leader, or my opponents, who are respectively, and I mean this respectfully as well, a moron and a slut . . ."
Rustle cuts over to Polipo at this moment even though it sounds as if Dick keeps talking until they cut his microphone entirely. Polipo, sweating under the television lights and looking like the manager of the produce section of the supermarket who's just been told that the banana shipment is infested with large spiders, sits in front of a row of ordinary Americans from diverse backgrounds who all sit still as they've been coached to do so, except for the amputee in the wheelchair, who waves his stump at the camera. Polipo coughs and says, "Thanks, Tim, I think we've just seen an example of what I've been talking about this entire campaign. My opponent is out of touch with reality. I'm not even sure he's human anymore, or even eligible under the Constitution to be president. Now my own plan for Social Security will guarantee it's there for our oldest citizens now and it'll be there for our youngest citizens when they need it."
Rustle chugs a beer and interrupts with a burp, "Pardon me, Senator, but what is your plan?"
"Well, that's a great question, Tim. It's a plan to preserve Social Security so that it'll be there for our oldest citizens and our youngest citizens."
"But what exactly is the plan? How are you going to do that?"
"We're going to preserve Social Security, Tim. It'll be there for you when you need it."
"But how?"
"I think I'm out of time, Tim; I wouldn't want to be unsporting to my opponents."
"But . . . oh, never mind, OK, Ms. O'Couscous, what do you plan to do about Social Security?"
The screen cuts to Ms. O'Couscous, who's sitting on a papasan chair with her legs spread and appears very comfortable hanging out with a bevy of attractive, young, and scantily-clad men and women, "Tim, you're looking very sharp this evening, may I say, and I truly wish I was in Key West with you. I've had some good times in that town. If I'm elected, America's going to have a good time, such a good time that nobody's going to worry about boring stuff like Social Security. They'll know that I'm going to take care of everything. So I'm not going to do anything about Social Security; I'm going to do Social Security, and when I'm done doing it, it'll know that it's been done. So, don't worry, the checks will go out as planned. I'm going to close down all those expensive military bases overseas, I'm going to let the CIA import their drugs and make them legal so that those senior citizens can get their cheap drugs from Canada and my young friends and I can get our cheap drugs from Mexico without any hassles, and I'm going to slap a party tax on that stuff and you won't mind paying it because you'll feel good when you do. With the savings and those new income streams, Social Security and the rest of those government programs people have grown so fond of will be set to keep on multiplying like rabbits and corporate accountants for years. That's hot, America. That's Kitty hot. Meow!"
And that's about as much as even Francine can take.
Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.
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