Why I Did Not Vote On Tues-Day
I had every intention of voting today, fellow denizens. June Gloom in full effect. Lunchtime. I pull up to the spot, only to discover my selfish cousins have eaten the entire row of cheerios before my arrival. Assholes! I came from the beach…for this?
With empty stomach I decided to vote. Voting would provide both an excuse to vacate the immediate area and a chance to fulfill my civic duty in the process. Win-win, to be sure. I had every intention of voting, friends, but fate, the babylon system and a few savage unscrupulites conspired to see that that act of patriotism did in fact not occur.
Why I Did Not Vote On Tues-Day
As I approached the polling place at a velocity of six knots from the southwest, I noticed a man in an apron outside a Jewish bakery. Said baker swatted air with broom, yelled something in Hebrew and fully disrupted my flight pattern. While I do not speak the Hebrew tongue, I do not believe he was flattering me.
I tried a second angle. Crested over a Shell station. Northwest. Dodged the 217. Scent of diesel in the air. Will I make it? Dipped six yards outside the door for a perfect landing. Took in my surroundings. Without warning I was nearly kicked in the head by a stumblebum. Said lech then flicked a spent Parlaiment filter-tip at my left wing, nearly burning the bejesus out of me in the process.
Things were not looking good to say the least.
“Chiliburger! What the hell are you doing here?”
I turn to face him. The guy looks familiar. How does he know my name?
“Bdrrrrt. Bdrrrrrrrr.”
“Come again.”
“Bdrrrrt. Bdrrrrrrrr. Brrddddddrrrrrr!”
“You’re not registered to vote you dumbass. Come on. I’m done here. I’ve just closed the book on forty-odd pounds of Abbe Land / Mike Feuer detritus. Let’s us have a beer.”
What could I do? Hopped into his car. Soon enough in we walked to Bar 107. The guy ordered a Schlitz. I ate popcorn. I had a few thimbles of beer. Soon enough the sting of defeat left my wings. Tomorrow…Tomorrow the cheerios are mine.
Bitches.
