It was a significant day for Jonathan. It was Election Day and he was running for office. It wasn’t much of a race; it was for a relatively insignificant role in the State’s government. The fact that his sole opposition was a dribbling idiot made it a certainty that Jonathan would win.
And he did win! By a landslide! No, not Jonathan you numbskull; the other guy; the dribbling idiot.
(I’m posting this story well ahead of Election Day in the States least people mistakenly think I’m talking about that).
It was Election Day. It was basically a two-party system. Castle Cliff was one of the smallest voting stations in the country. There were only twelve voters. Of course they took several days to count the votes but eventually the results were published:
Conservatives: 1
Liberals: 75
Vernon was an excellent heart specialist. He worked at the hospital and did heart transplants like there were going out of fashion. And he knew how to prescribe heart medication to perfection.
He had very liberal views when it came to politics; some would say “over-liberal” and others would say “bordering on the obsessive”. He always enjoyed an invigorating discussion with each patient, and besides, he found that talking politics got their hearts pumping and he could better diagnose.
Melba was one such patient. She was conservative in her views; some would say “over conservative” and others would say “bordering on bigotry”.
There was an election looming. Vernon knew the way Melba would vote. Sheer bigotry! He changed her heart medication. “It may be a drop in the ocean,” said Vernon, “but a vote is a vote. Changing her medication is my way of making this planet a better world. Melba will be the eighth patient of mine to pass on in this election year.”
Jacinda liked ice cream. She would buy one nearly every day. It cost her two dollars and ninety-five cents per ice cream. She liked strawberry ice cream the best.
Then Jacinda thought of a wonderful idea! She would give two dollars and ninety-five cents to a friend every day and they could buy the ice cream for her. That way the ice cream would be free.
Quite frankly, the younger staff members at the local newspaper were fed up. The rule said “In the event of a tie, the oldest in age shall be considered the winner.” This rule was as old as the hills. It applied to whenever the staff voted as to which journalist got to go on a mission to an interesting event.
There was one interesting event annually vied for. It was to the Wearable Arts Festival in Wellington. It was well-nigh impossible to get a ticket. Year after year, the staff vote equalled oldies versus youngies. And the same bloody fuddy-duddy old fart got to go every year.
Young Tristan had a plan. At a meeting of staff when they reviewed the paper’s constitution, he suggested that the rule be changed to the youngest winning in the event of a tie. It passed! Yes! He was set to go! The Wearable Arts Festival was coming up. The staff voted.
Tristan got half the votes. Natalia got half the votes.
Tristan was the winner! Yah! Yah! Hurrah! Oh, wait a minute… We forgot. We changed the rule. Natalia wins! She’s the youngest.
Yeah. Tristan thought Natalia needed to go. She might pick up a few ideas. She dresses like a slut.
(The photograph above is of the Wearable Arts Festival in Wellington, New Zealand).
Weave a Web 