Astounding Essays

This is part two of the short story “Guys and Dollars”. If you like stories to make sense, you might want to read the first part.

I received a call from the Mayor of Brooksburg.
“How’s it going?”
“There have been some trip ups.”
I could hear him revving up to go into Screamy Shortie mode. “TRIPUPS?”
“Uh, nothing big. Someone figured out my dollar habit.”
“You know that I’ll double every dollar you take, so stick with me. My pockets are really deep.”
I always wondered where he had gotten all his money. I wouldn’t argue if it meant more dollars for me though.
“I have to run though,” he said “I have Guess Who club. You know how it is.”
I never played Guess Who, I didn’t know how it was, but before I could find out, he hung up.

The next month and a half sped by like a rabbit on a bicycle. We rehearsed and rehearsed. I learned the ins and outs of Nathan Detroit, all the while, I was thinking of ways to subvert him, destroy him, mold him into an upstanding citizen that would never play a floating craps game. The set was constructed. A large building stage left, entirely non descript. There was also a chandelier which would crash down at the end of the first act. The PTA Mom insisted on this, stating that every good musical has one chandelier crashing scene. Despite what I had said to Mrs. Camden, I didn’t notice anything odd at practice. I would have thought they’d send someone to interrogate us, and try to figure out which one was the spy, which one was the leak in their perfect school operation. Mrs. Camden never acknowledged that incident. I never was promised another dollar, or asked for any more information. Just more inane talk about the times tables. I felt safe. Maybe they’d let it slide. Maybe this would all be forgotten.

Opening night. Dignitaries from all over came. The Mayor of New Havestorook, The Town Council of King’s Hollow, and the Revered Society of the Letter H (the local secret society). Sitting front row center was my mayor, The Mayor of Brooksburg. He was dressed in his Sunday best. A pinstriped suit with a matching vest and boutonnière. He had eye candy with him, to the tune of Miss Brooksburg 2008, the most gorgeous woman in town, and some said the entire county. Someone flashed the florescent lights of the All-Purpose room, the show would soon start.

I went over my lines in my head in the classroom we used as a green room in the back. The PTA mom came up to me and said that someone wanted to speak to me before the show. She said that that person said it was important, and that if they tried to touch me inappropriately just to scream, no one would judge me for being afraid. Or so she thought. I walked out the door, and there she was, Mrs. Camden.

“Jiminy, it’s your big night.”
“Shucks Mrs. Camden, it’s a big night for the theater world, I am merely a vessel within it.”
“Don’t be so modest.”
“Thank you for your kind words.” I quickly turned around and tried to enter the room again.
“Jiminy, we figured out who infiltrated the musical.”
“Good, good. I will be going now.” I turned around again, and then felt the cold barrel of a gun against the back of my neck.
“If you know what is best for you, Jiminy, you’re going to perform the role of Nathan Detroit as scripted.”
“Urp,” I responded.
“We’ve been watching your every move. We’ve been onto you for a long time now.”
“Yurp,” I croaked.
“If you destroy our plan, there is nothing you or anyone can do, especially your beloved Mayor.”
“Curp.” I gurgled. I felt her slip a dollar into my pocket.
“This is to keep you honest. Now get out of here.”

I was standing backstage; I heard the Harley Taletson Middle School band start playing the Runyonland overture. It was places. Looking around, I saw a few new extras. The extras, the backup singers and dancers came to every practice. These new extras looked significantly taller and more muscular than the other extras. Instead of wearing ill fitting Sunday clothes as thugs, they actually looked legitimate. They also had guns.

The overture had ended, and it was now time for me to walk onto the stage. I stepped out and was blinded by the bright lights. I couldn’t see anyone or anything. I forgot who I was or where I was. I reached into my pocket and felt that dollar. It told me to just say my lines and do what I was supposed to. Perspective slowly started to return. In my periphery, I could see the thugs starting to close in. I didn’t know if they knew the harmonies for the first song. My hand grasped that dollar like it was my lifeline. I felt its dollar-power coursing through my veins. I knew then what I had to do.

Opening my mouth to begin, I started to sidle back towards the building. I knocked open the door with my foot and went inside, poking my head out of the window.
“I RENOUNCE GAMBLING!” I yelled.
“Get ‘im boys!” I heard one of the thugs say, and suddenly a series of shots came in my direction. I ducked into the building. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my gun. I knew this was going to be dangerous. I poked my head out of the window for a second, and nearly had my hair singed off by a flurry of bullets.
“I WILL HAVE A VIRTUOUS WEDDING ASAP!” I screamed.
I looked around, there was a ladder to the roof of the building in the corner, out of the sight lines from the stage. I slowly crawled over to it, and climbed up onto the roof.

From my vantage point on top of the building, the thugs hadn’t yet caught on to my location. They had now surrounded the building.
“Come out, and do the rest of the musical as scripted!”
Some members of the audience had noticed me. There would no doubt be those sympathetic to the thugs who’d betray me in a second. I needed to act very fast. A spy always does. Unless it’s a slow situation that doesn’t have guns.

I leapt onto the chandelier just as someone in the audience gave away my position. The thugs all pointed their weapons and shot upwards, missing, and only propelling the chandelier to spin around. I haphazardly shot downward, taking out three of the five thugs. I’m a crackerjack shot when it comes to spinning chandelier situations; it was my minor in spy school. The thugs, shocked for a second, grabbed their colleagues’ guns and redoubled their efforts. I started to shift my weight on the chandelier, it started to swing back and forth, while continuing to spin. I would imagine this is what it’s like to ride a Tilt A Whirl in Somalia.

A stray bullet from one of the thugs hit the rope, and the chandelier and I took an unscheduled beginning of the first act descent right towards the audience.
“GET OUT OF HERE!” Screamed one of the revered brothers of the Revered Society of the Letter H, and within the time it’d take one to blink, they beamed out of there sans Star Trek effects. They just disappeared immediately.
I crashed down into a recently emptied section of the seats. When the dust settled and I was able to get up, the Mayor of Brooksburg was holding his hand out to me.
“Excellent job! We need to get out of here immediately.”
He helped me up and the two of us tried to take advantage of the confusion to just run with the mob out of the All-Purpose room. We had made it out of the elementary school, and just reached his getaway vehicle when I heard a familiar voice.
“Not so fast, spy.” It was Mrs. Camden, and behind her the two remaining thugs.

“Look what you’ve done!” She said, her voice betraying anger against her typically cool demeanor. “We haven’t had an on stage gun battle for years, and you ruin it!” She reached into her purse and pulled out the gun.
“I’ve got one question, Mrs. Camden, how did you figure out that I was the spy?”
“No child knows the times tables that well.”
“I over played my hand, damn. It’s the stupid kids fault. They would have known it if they had a better teacher!”
“Don’t blame me, it’s teaching the standardized tests that are making overall teaching quality go down. Not just here, but across the country!”
“You teachers are just overstating your problems with it to wrangle the government which already has its hands tied up in both a recession and two wars to give you more money. How greedy!”
“We’re mortgaging our future if we don’t!”
While this discussion was in progress, both us and the two thugs failed to notice that the mayor jumped into his car and sped off, abandoning me.
“Well, that’s just great,” Mrs. Camden said. “We lost him.”
“Great for the great town of Brooksburg.” I said. My life was soon going to be over, but I was going to do my job proud. Last words was a class I did alright in. I reached into my pocket and fumbled for the cyanide.
“Don’t you know where he’s going?” Mrs. Camden said.
“Of course not, I don’t spy on my own mayor.”
“If you did, you’d know that he was going off to a Yahtzee club.”
“We all have our flaws, Mrs. Camden. I don’t like it that you jerks here decided it’d be funny to make fun of his.”
“You fool, don’t you understand?! Hasbro, the manufacturer of Yahtzee has been interested in destroying the education system, so everyone would just stay inside and play board games all day. Your beloved mayor has been on the take from them for the past five years. This production of Guys and Dolls was a way to let the entire community know of his schemes.”
“Of course. How could I have been such a fool?”

I have since quit being a spy. The Mayor of Brooksburg disappeared soon after that incident. No one knows where he went, but he wasn’t missed. Mrs. Camden continued to teach, under the yoke of standardized tests forced on her by the board game lobby. The PTA mom’s next musical was Cats, which she bought a new chandelier for. Tex rightfully got the lead role this time. I moved to Hazelfield and became the copy editor in the town hall full time. I get a dollar a day, and it’s the best I’ve ever felt.

This short story ended up being way longer than I had thought, and far too long to be just one update. So, after some minor retooling I split it in half, with a cliffhanger middle part. Special thanks to Stephen Winchell, who gave me the idea of the spy.

It was in their local newspaper. Copy assistant needed. Part time, work in town hall, assist secretarial staff with copying. Knowledge in Microsoft Office ’97 a plus. It’s like they were just giving their secrets away. I went online and read a bit about Microsoft Office ’97, and about copy machines. I don’t half ass my job. I take it pretty damn serious. I showed up with my fake resume, listing a number of fake references. The actors I hired to play the references were top notch, and I’m sure they would put their Broadway all into vouching about my copy skills, a week after the interview, I was hired.

I showed up to work at seven o clock, exactly on time, and I did my job. No one would have ever suspected what I was doing, since I hadn’t done it yet. When the day was over and they were locking up I started taking pictures of their office. I’m not Cam Jansen, I don’t have a photographic memory. This office with the secretarial staff might not be the mayor’s office, but every little piece counts. When I returned with the photos, I was patted on the back and told that I did a good job. My check for the copy job came in the mail three weeks later, I decided to hold onto the job since I needed the extra cash.

I am a professional low-scale spy. I’ve been doing this job for twenty seven years. I have been hired by the town of Brooksburg to spy on the town of Hazelfield. The mayor of Brooksburg is entirely sure that the town of Hazelfield is up to something. I am inclined to agree with him. Just yesterday Hazelfield started their little league three weeks before the standard Little League starting date. Odd. Strange. Unsettling. Do they have knowledge of some sort of cataclysmic event that will take place three weeks before Little League is supposed to end? They cancelled their Jump Rope For Heart and replaced it with a Walkathon for a local kid that needs a liver transplant. What are they doing to their children that they need to be augmented with additional organs? Questions that would keep anyone up at night.

The mayor of Brooksburg is a short man with a short temper. He is called Screamy Shortie by a lot of people. Not me though. His desk, imitation oak, has a number of toys on it. One might think he’s some sort of juvenile because of all the toys on his desk, but what really impressed him was that when I first entered his office I deduced that those toys were there for his children to play with. I guessed that they were boys as well, since the toys were dinosaurs, and girls hate dinosaurs. Both sexes loved board games, and he had a closet full of them. He never let me in there though.
“Ah, you arrived.” He said when I arrived. He usually does.
“You wanted to see me, Mister Mayor?” Something was wrong, I could tell.
“Humphrey, I have something very special I want you to check into. There has been something that has been bothering me about those tricksters in Hazelfield. Something that seems to have crawled into my hair and not even a comb can get it out.”
“Would you like me to help you, sir?”
“A figure of speech.  Their elementary school is putting on a production of Guys and Dolls. I’m concerned they might be doing this to make fun of me after that gambling mix up I had last year.”
It was well documented in the firebrand muckraking newspaper The Brooksburg Newspaper that the mayor had a Yahtzee addiction.
“I’ll sabotage it, sir. Those miniature thespians don’t stand a chance.”
“I want you to star in it.”
“Pardon?”
“To really sabotage this, you need to throw the entire show opening night, and as Nathan Detroit refuse to play craps. Say that you believe in morals or something, and then marry that girl right away. Let everyone know that the Mayor of Brooksburg is an upstanding gentleman.”
“I’ll do that, sir.”
“This will be a very dangerous mission. You will need this,” he pulled out a gun.
“Of course. I can already smell the danger.”

To adequately disguise yourself, you need to immerse yourself in that persona. As a spy, I have become exceptionally good at this. Even my long estranged girlfriend would tell me that she didn’t even know who I was anymore. To be a seven year old child at an elementary school required me to really sink my teeth into what it’s like to be a child. I stood silently in a toy store, doing nothing but observing everything. There were toys, brightly colored toys, everywhere. Children laughing and playing. Some were screaming when they weren’t receiving what they wanted. All of this information is of extreme importance to a spy.

The Mayor of Brooksburg had arranged through his network of turncoats a way for me to enroll in Hazelfield Elementary. I took the bus in, sitting inconspicuously towards the center of the bus. Not in the front where the nerds sit, but not in the back where the cool kids sit. A spy must be inconspicuous. In order to completely mask myself, I was wearing a propeller beanie with the Looney Tunes Tasmanian Devil on it.

Today Mrs. Camden, my teacher, had me stand up in front of class and introduce myself.
“We have a special new student in here today, Jiminy.”
“Hello children, I am one of you.”
“Do any of you have questions for Jiminy?”
A child raised his hand. “What’s that stuff on your face?”
“It’s a beard. I grow it because it’s fun. Children love to have fun.”
Another one, this one wearing a t-shirt with cartoon animals on it, raised her hand.
“What does your dad do?”
“My dad is a spy for Brooksburg. He is very good at his job.”
Several more hands went up, but before I could take any more questions, Mrs. Camden stopped them.
“Alright, I’m sure that Jiminy here is tired of answering questions. I think we should all move on to the times tables!”

The times tables. I love those. When I was a child and in school, I was a whiz at those. I could have been a mathematician but those weren’t the cards I was dealt. The only school I could afford to go to was low-scale spy school out east.
“What’s five times five?”
I raised my hand.
“Twenty five.”
“Very good. What’s eight times seven.”
I raised my hand.
“Fifty six.”
“Good, good. Nine times four.”
I raised my hand.
“How about let someone else answer it.”
No one else raised their hand. Stupid kids. Their dull eyes were glazed over. They didn’t know anything about the times tables.

After the school day was over and before I was heading to auditions Mrs. Camden stopped me. My heart started beating hard. Had she figured me out? I had always prided myself on my record of never getting caught ever, and I have no idea what would happen to me if they got me now.
“So, your dad is a spy for Brooksburg?”
“Yes, he does a very good job of it.”
“Can you do the town of Hazelfield a goodness?”
“I live to do goodness as I have the pure heart of a loving child.”
“Kill your father.”
They were out for my blood, and if I was found out things could get very sticky very fast.
“I will think about it Mrs. Camden.”
“Here’s a dollar to make you think a little harder.”
This was unanticipated. I don’t consider myself a weak person at all. I once was able to eat a lot of crackers very quickly, which is extremely challenging to anyone. There is one weakness I have, and its when someone offers me dollars, I tend to do what they want. The Mayor of Brooksburg was relying on me though, and I couldn’t let him down. Mrs. Camden must have some how deduced how weak I was to the almighty dollar.

A banner was hung over the entrance to the All-Purpose Room, “AUDITIONS FOR GUYS AND DOLLS TODAY!!!” I walked in and sat with in a full room of excited students. There were whispers about, some kids doing homework, and one kid already crying prepared not to get the big speaking parts. A mom stood up front. Nothing distinguishing about her. Just some PTA mom, like any other. We had to sign in, and we’d go in the order on the list. Despite the fact that I leapt over a few of the youngsters I wasn’t the first one. It was some kid with gelled back hair (is that healthy for children?) and a black shirt. He would one day be handsome.

“Tex…” The PTA mom said. “…do you have a last name?”
“Naw, I’m just Tex.” Each word slipped out of his mouth like a velvet raindrop.
“How exotic, well, you’re the first one on the list, so please go right ahead.”
He handed her an audio cassette tape, labeled “KNOCKEMDEAD”. She put it into the tape player and pushed play.

Tex got on the stage, I noticed he had ballet slippers. The musical accompaniment was an electronic version of “Luck Be A Lady”. I chuckled to myself. He wouldn’t be able to wow anyone with this. As he pranced and danced and minced and otherwise across the stage a made a large show of scoffing. Scoff, I said, scoff scoff, ‘he is most untalented and unlikable.’. I said that through my scoffing, and not out loud, but anyone could tell, as I am able to telegraph almost any sentence through a series of well timed scoffs.

Much to my surprise, everyone gave him a standing ovation at the end. Not me though. I remained scoffing to show everyone my disapproval.

“It will be quite difficult for anyone to top that.” The Mom said. I doubt it. I doubt her, and I doubt the entire organization of the PTA.
“Jiminy, you’re next.”

I have always been extremely talented at dancing. It has just been something that I’ve always been able to do well. I think it might have to do with the fact that I am naturally agile and attractive to everyone. I brought up a tape which had some club dance music on it, and I gyrated like no one’s business. All over the place, body parts flying to their own primal body part rhythm and I in the center, barely in control of this mad sickness, this dance power, which had taken over my body. I lose all sense of everything when dancing, and I only see colors and hear sounds. Usually when I dance a number of people faint, and I find myself in several interesting situations. This was going to cement me the role and get the Mayor of Brooksburg exactly what he wanted.

When I had finished, and hardened sweat caked my body (it’s a problem I’ve had since youth). If there was applause, I was too in a trance to hear it. I assume there was.
“That was very… interesting Jiminy.”
I bowed, grabbed my beanie which had flown halfway across the stage, and I left dramatically. My mother always said that I was excellent at dramatic exits, but I think that might have been because she died in childbirth.

The next day, I entered school wearing a propeller beanie with Bobby from Bobby’s World on it. They had already posted the list of who was going to be starring in Guys and Dolls. I couldn’t wait to see. I pushed all of the little children aside and looked at the list. Suddenly all the blood rushed from my head into my arms.
I didn’t get the part.
Tex did.
What injustice.

Tears running down my face, I sauntered down the hall, not even aware of where I was going. I ran right into Mrs. Camden. She smiled and leaned down to address me.
“What’s wrong Jiminy? Lose your dollar?”
This probably wouldn’t put me in a much better mood.
“I…”sniff “tried out…” sniff “for the part of Na-“ sob “Na-“ sob “Nathan Detroit and I…” sniff “I… I didn’t get it!” I collapsed, she sat on the linoleum floor and cradled me in her arms.
“There, there. Jiminy, it’s going to be alright… there, there.”
“No, but I wanted the part!”
“You know what would make you feel better?” She reached into her purse “A dollar.”
My heart skipped a beat. She must have figured out my weakness.
“Th—thanks.”
“You know what, I bet I could help you get the role if… if you gave me some information about the Mayor of Brooksburg.”
My mind quickly jumped to alternatives to this route. I could have killed Tex. Broke his legs. Used psychic powers to remove his fancy dance moves. Not one of these would work on a child though, they’re too strong. Other options, I could seduce the PTA mom, but that might blow my entire cover. I couldn’t think of any alternative…
“He… lives in Brooksburg,” Play her like a piano.
“Oh, that’s interesting. I bet he does some pretty interesting stuff in Brooksburg.”
THINK, THINK!
“Here, have another dollar.”
Large beads of sweat rolled down my brow. All I could think of was those dollars. Dollars. Dollars.
“Brooksburg. The Mayor of Brooksburg, he sent a spy to infiltrate Guys and Dolls.”
“Is it your father? Here, have another dollar.”
My heart nearly exploded. “NO! He is, he is someone I don’t know, but he’s infiltrated the play.”
“Why?” She reached into her purse and handed me another dollar.
BLEEEEEEEEEEE
“He is, he was, he the mayor, he was the mayor, the mayor he wanted to,” a bit of froth started coming out of the corner of my mouth.
“Faster, Jiminy! We don’t have much time!” She grabbed a wad of dollars and thrust it into my hand.
“He believes that the production of Guys and Dolls is a way to publicly attack his Yahtzee addiction.”
Mrs. Camden reached into her pocket to grab something, I couldn’t tell, things started getting dark and I couldn’t see and then I woke up about three hours later.
“You got the part of Nathan Detroit!” a blurry voice yelled. I reached into my pockets. The dollars were there, it wasn’t a nightmare. It had all happened.

Will Jiminy be able to pull it off? Will he succumb to the temptations of the dollars of Mrs. Camden? Will his singing and dancing be up to par as he goes to try to make it big? All of these answers and more will be found in Guys and Dollars Part Two.

Returning to write the first political op-ed for Astounding Essays in two years, Oliver H James is a recognized fellow of the Underdonk Political Science Department. He has been a political opinionist and author for the past seventeen years. He has also published several children’s books. Oliver H James is happy to write a new essay for Astounding Essays.

Friends, I have been away for far too long. Many people wondered where I was. I can’t tell you. I can give you an elaborate series of hints, though. Where will those hints be? My friends, I feel that the written word has started to fall apart. People have just stopped caring about reading and writing. So, in order to have you readers read a bit more critically, and think a little bit harder, I am going to hide the hints within this very political opinion article. You’re going to have to READ this, not skim it. God help you, you may need to read it twice. For your information I don’t read everything twice, I read it three times. If you want to be on my hot road for success, that’s the first step. The following steps are working out, short hair, and waking up at six in the morning to get to places before anyone knows you’re there. It always works. Always.

For the Presidential Primary season we just heard that there are going to be two more debates, and I think there are going to be a lot of surprises in them. I have a number of secret friends within everyone in every party. Some journalists would call them sources, but I don’t treat people like that. To me, they’ll always be my secret friends. Let it never be said that Oliver H James went around flaunting that he has many friends and all of their names. I am not that insecure. If I was, I wouldn’t have gone missing for two years. I grew too modest and powerful for some people.

SURPRISE NUMBER ONE: John McCain is going to make a SURPRISE appearance during the debate. The moderator, whose name is deeply under wraps, is going to have someone hidden backstage during the debate. When one of the candidates says the secret word “sandcastle” McCain is going to bound onto the stage to everyone’s applause. He’s going to sit down and then take questions and sign autographs. There will be a bicycle race between the three candidates, and his bicycle is the famous bicycle from Pee Wee’s Big Adventure, as to attract to kitsch vote. McCain will also be speaking in a Speedy Gonzales style Mexican accent to both appease Mexicans and people who hate Mexicans.

PERSONAL ASIDE AND ELECTION ANALYSIS: My car no longer works, after buying it last year. Where did I buy it from? The dealership down in North Underdonk, Harvey Grimson motors. I always thought he was a crook, and as far as I’m concerned, if he caught a bullet while he was driving one of his drug money sedans down a road, I would laugh and laugh and sing until the cows came home. Speaking of cows, I have recently become a vegetarian.

SURPRISE NUMBER TWO: Have you noticed that there’s one candidate who is looking a little…how do I say it? Round? No, I’m not talking about Pac-Man! Good guess though! No, I’m not talking about Kirby! Good guess though! No, I’m not talking about Captain Roundington! I’ll give you a hint; it’s the only candidate that’s able to be pregnant. That’s right: HILLARY CLINTON IS EXPECTING A BABY and my sources inside her campaign (and also inside her body) are telling me that it’s going to be a boy! When is she going to deliver this little bouncing bundle of joy?! The day before the Pennsylvania primaries. The Obama campaign is working on a baby of their own, but will he lose voters when it’s revealed that he had a black baby?

PERSONAL ASIDE AND ELECTION ANALYSIS: The other day I was at my doctors and he said that I had far too many boils on my left hand. I couldn’t afford to pay him. Two things, number one, if we had a national health care system, those boils would be gone. Number two, do any of you know simple home remedies for boils?

SURPRISE NUMBER THREE: I will be the moderator of the debate. I’m a power player. A lot of people know me. I can’t walk down the street without people asking for my autograph and maybe an impression of my footprint for an art project. When I walk into a room of heady political operators, everyone knows, and the women, knowing better, often take one article of clothes off. Why only one? Well, why don’t you find a woman and ask her? I’ve never been one. Though, ever since having menstruation explained to me, I want to.

PERSONAL ASIDE AND ELECTION ANALYSIS: No one gave the film Hitman a fair shake. Too often we in America are prepared to just hate video game to movie adaptations. No more I say! Hitman is one of the most taut, exciting action thrillers I’ve seen this year. Everyone I know loved it, and everyone I know also went out and bought the game and was disappointed with the game! How is that for a reversal! Of course, the movie theocracy that reviews everything knows that if we started to rate video game movies highly, then there would be no other movies ever. So, instead we watch movies about little girls who lose their popsicles. I don’t think Barack Obama disagrees with me.

SURPRISE NUMBER FOUR: The first debate will end with a cliffhanger. Hillary is going to stand up and hold a gun to Barack’s head, and ask him for the secret code. Anyone who has been watching the previous debates knows that Barack has the code to open the lock hiding the key to the Lost City of Atlantis, within which live all of the superdelegates. I don’t want to give away how Mr. Slippery Head (as the liberal media likes to describe him) will fly his way out of this one, but take a look at his wristwatch. It might look a little different than usual, and it might have an illegal teleporter unit. If he teleports out of the country though, doesn’t that strip him of his ability to be president?

PERSONAL ASIDE AND ELECTION ANALYSIS: I have pleasured a woman whose name I can’t reveal here, but I will say I met her on the discussion page for the Wikipedia entry on Shadow the Hedgehog.

SURPRISE NUMBER FIVE: John McCain has an identical twin that has the same name. He’s not evil, nor is he the good copy. There’s just one way to tell the difference, which is that he has a goatee and a crescent moon shaped scar on his lower abdomen. He is also allergic to peanuts, which may prove problematic during the debate’s physical challenge.

PERSONAL ASIDE AND ELECTION ANALYSIS: One of my legs is four inches longer than the other, and that’s why I always walk around with my ornamental cane. People always ask me that, and now you have the answer. (OVER THE LAST TWO YEARS I WAS IN A GUATEMALAN PRISON BECAUSE I WAS CAUGHT STEALING MONEY FROM A FRUIT VENDOR. WITHIN THAT PRISON I LEARNED A LOT ABOUT MY OWN LIMITS AND BECAME A MORE FULL PERSON. I HAVE HAD ALL THE SIN CLEANSED FROM MY SOUL AND THERE ARE THINGS THAT I HAVE SEEN THAT WOULD MAKE YOU CRY (SCORPIONS WITH FULL WORLD KNOWLEDGE). I HAVE CRIED. I CRY EVERY DAY.)

THOSE ARE ALL THE SURPRISES THAT THIS ELECTION SEASON WILL HAVE IN THE NEXT TWO MONTHS! That’s it! No more! Kaput! I have been in many places, many scrapes, and have been with many people, and they all told me the same five surprises. I don’t lie to you like Pornography Dr. Seuss or my mother to me, but rather I give you the actual truth based on actual words. If you’re looking for anything else, you might as well look around and then find things that might look like other things like clouds and see where that gets you. The answer is, not very far.