The latest debate with the knuckleheads running for President made a stop at Phi Beta Kappa Hall. Rory sat in a field of giant concrete presidential heads listening to Tom Petty’s “Even the Losers,” and knew tonight was what his cross country coach had been hinting at.
Rory dialed Uber and waited next to Grant’s head stroking the concrete beard as if it were an antibiotic to cure the ills Rory was feeling. He thought the current cast of twerking candidates were exceptional in the colossal mess they were making of the most important position in the American government. A raggedy blue vintage Ford Mustang pulled up.
“Did you call for an Uber ride?” asked the driver.
“Coach Oweis? You drive for Uber? You still have this car?”
“Get in. I think I found your homework.”
Rory got in and was weirded out by the frequency that he was running into his old coaches. Oweis sensed Rory’s urgency and gunned the 289 for all it was worth. They flew down Richmond Road. The lap belts still did their job of restraining the passengers on the vinyl trampolines that were the seats. They turned at Confusion Corner and headed up Jamestown Road for PBK Hall.
As Rory jumped out of the car, he heard his coach yell, “Cherish tonight!” Rory rolled through the grass and headed for the secret entrance that his father had learned about from a boozer cop when Carter and Ford debated in 1976. He ducked under that stainless steel sculpture and followed a tunnel right to the bottom of the stage.
The candidates were just getting comfortable when Rory made his move. Rory was able to walk up a small set of steps that put him right in the middle of the stage. Security and Secret Service made their way to subdue Rory, but they were held back by some invisible force. Perhaps the ghost haunting the hall was doing good.
Rory introduced himself to the candidates and the crowd, “He Donnie, Markie, Teddy, Hilary, Bernie, and all you others, I have a few things I’d like to say. First, I think you are all peacocks. It’s true because you are each iridescent and stuck with some kind of sexual selection about yourselves or see your illuminated senses of self as some sort of fitness for the office. Second, you are all a bunch of sea snails, abalone, equally iridescent with strong, changeable colors. WE ARE ALL EMBARRASSED BY EACH OF YOU!”
The audience went wild!
“For all of your talk of unity and equality, as a group, you serve to deny, disrupt, and devalue anything that could be construed as moral, right, or in the American interest. WE BEG OF YOU TO STOP ACTING THIS WAY.”
The audience went wild, again!
Rory bowed to the crowd and nodded to the politicians. He then walked, unencumbered, through the front door and back to his coach’s classy car. They drove over to Paul’s and had hot Holly sandwiches.