I was given permission to post these blog entries by Psychotronicman, who published them at the eenrblog this evening.
No Country For Old Women Part 1 (+)
Sat Mar 15, 2008 at 17:27:08 PM EDT
He really had no business taking it. It was obvious from all the dead bodies littering the dusty ground that nothing good could come from what he did. Feminists, abortion-rights protesters, workplace equality lawyers all lay intertwined and bloody on the hard dirt soil of the Texas ground. They had died for these votes.
But, the temptation was too great. It was the temptation of a bag full of votes he had no right to claim that softened his resolve. Barack stared at the dour sun lying low in the sky and thought that he might get away with it. Really, who would know and would they even look for a bag full of young women's votes?
But, he was wrong. Now on the run a confused Barack Obama plays a deadly game of cat-and-mouse with the sociopathic politician Ferraro. An unstoppable force that gives no quarter and takes no prisoners.
Sheriff McCain scratched his bald head as the shadows of vultures passed overhead. He felt old. Old as any ancient regret. He stared down at the hardscrabble ground as it continued to greedily soak up the blood of the victims. His deputy Romney ran up to him, his pants creased sharp enough to cut cheddar.
"Sheriff, looks like a typical Democratic circular firing squad." Romney said while his dog barked angrily from its carrier on top of his squad car.
Sheriff McCain sighed as he eyed deputy Romney's unibrow," Yep, another death by natural causes."
"Natural causes? This is a massacre." Romney said.
"For a Democrat this is natural causes. Part of the package I'm afraid." Sheriff McCain sucked in a breath of the painfully rank air, "Son, I don't think this is the end of it."
Both men stood in silence as the dog's barking echoed through the valley.
No Country For Old Women Part 2 (+)
Sat Mar 15, 2008 at 18:11:49 PM EDT
She approached the Obama campaign headquarters holding the nozzle of the air tank up to the doorlock. With a shot of air the lock shot off and she could hear the clink it made as it hit the floor. The sociopath Ferraro kicked open the door to see a surprised David Axelrod sitting at his desk, a half-eaten croissant dropping from his hands.
"Where is he?" she said as her snakelike gaze stole over the rows of phonebank volunteers.
She could see a lie begin to form on David Axelrod's lips but then he stopped himself as the sheer pointlessness of a further charade became obvious. "He's at the mansion."
Ferraro walked up to Axelrod and pulled a quarter out of her pantsuit. "Call it."
Axelrod's sweat glands went into overdrive, "What are we betting on?"
"Everything," she said. Ferraro flipped the coin and it landed on the back of her hand which she covered up with her other hand. "Call it."
Ferraro smiled as she looked at the coin. Then before Axelrod could even shift in his seat she put the nozzle of the air gun to his head. The screams of the phonebank volunteers echoed down the streets outside.
The phone rang at the Obama mansion and Barack picked it up on the sixth ring. "Hello?"
"This is your only chance." The deep but feminine voice on the other end of the line said.
"Who is this?" Barack said.
"You know who this is. Bring them to me. They aren't yours. Bring those votes to me and maybe I'll spare the Democratic Party. It is already to late for you." Ferraro whispered.
"Who says? Those are anyone's votes. Who says you own the women's vote?" Barack could feel his anger rising and the urge to sneak off for a smoke break was overwhelming.
Ferraro sighed,"You will apologize to me when you bring the votes back. This is your only offer."
The veins stood out on Barack's head as he gripped the phone. "Yeah, well come get them. I'll be waiting."
He slammed the phone down cutting off the call.
Throngs of dazed Obama supporters were wandering around outside the mansion as Sheriff McCain pulled up. It was too late. The smoldering ruins of the Barack Obama campaign were spread everywhere. Deputy Romney walked up to Sheriff McCain's cruiser shaking his head.
"Sorry Sheriff. His campaign didn't make it." Romney said.
"What happened?" Sheriff McCain asked.
"Ferraro just walked right up in broad daylight and sprayed innuendo everywhere. No one made it. The bag of young women's votes are gone too." Romney absently ran his fingers through his sideburns as he spoke.
Sheriff McCain could feel the entire gravity of the earth pulling at his chest. "Then that's it. This is just too brutal. I feel over-matched."
Driving home Sheriff McCain thought of a dream he had the night before.
In the dream he saw his mother walking through the snow pulling the burden of sexism. He could see the tears streaming down her face as the pain of the load tore at her muscles and bent her back but she continued on. He wanted to help her but he was scared. Then as the drifting snow covered her with white she smiled at him and he knew that she would never stop carrying the burden. No matter how heavy. He carried nothing but she continued to pull ahead of him. Finally he realized that he had been left behind.
Then he woke up.