Short story – “Vote With Your Fists”

“Vote With Your Fists”

After a final pat down, the state trooper pulled back the flap for Charles Roman to enter.  Three men were inside the pole tent.  A Secret Service agent stood at the entrance and gave Charles a quick look over.  Another man in a short-sleeved shirt with a black medical bag sat in a chair near the exit, reading a travel magazine.  The third man sat on a stool in the middle holding an ice pack to his face; blood splattered his white T-shirt.

Charles started towards the figure on the stool, but the Secret Service agent stepped in front of him, holding up a hand.  “Remember, you only get one punch.”

“I know.”

The agent nodded and returned to his place by the flap.

Charles walked up to the man on the stool.  “Senator Hoyer, happy Punch-Your-Politician Day.”

The Senator removed the ice pack.  “Just get this over with.”

“Not so fast.  There are a few things I want to tell you.  First off, you weren’t my first choice.  I had wanted to punch the President, but I couldn’t afford to stand in line all day so I had to settle for you.”

“I’m honored.”

Charles scoffed.  “Secondly, I don’t know why, but I actually voted for you last year.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you?  I wish that was something I could say to you.  What have you done for me this past year?” Charles closed his eyes and muttered, “Ah … let’s see … um … oh yeah.” He opened his eyes and glared at the Senator.  “Nothing.  During your campaign you made dozens of speeches about job creation and making education more affordable.  But have you done any of that?”

“The measures I support have yet to make their way out of their respective committees.”

“Oh, but the measures to give tax cuts to the rich go through committees, Congress, and on to the President in record time.” Charles clapped his hands, and in a somber voice said, “Hooray for American democracy.”

A little table stood next to the Senator with a glass of water.  The Senator set the ice pack down and picked up the glass and took a sip of water.  “Democracy,” he said, “means if you don’t like what your politician is doing, you vote them out of office.”

“I don’t like what you’ve done, but I have to wait five more years to vote you out?  Doesn’t seem fair.  I mean, if I get a bad hamburger at a drive-thru I can take it right back and get another one.”

The Senator chuckled.  “Would you rather politicians just did what the polls told them to do?”

“If the polls showed that the majority of the people supported a measure it would be nice if you politicians, who supposedly work for ‘the people,’ supported it as well, you know, instead of just listening to those who write you checks.”

Looking Charles in the eye, the Senator asked, “Do you actually know that all politicians are only out for their own good, or is that just what the media has fed you?”

Charles let a breath out through his nose.  “Just about a month before last year’s election, my mother-in-law had a stroke.”

“Is she all right?”

“Why do you care?  She lives in different state.”

“I care because I’m human.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.  Anyway, about three months ago my father had a heart attack.” Charles paused for a second.  “He does live in our state, but he never voted for you.  Anyway, it’s needless to say that our medical bills have been rather painful this past year, and what with our oldest starting her third year at college and our youngest starting to look at colleges, and my wife’s job being outsourced last year, we have no idea how we’re going to pay for it all.  So there you have it.  Two modest, hard working Americans who can’t pay their bills and who have been waiting – for years – for our elected officials to help us.”

The Senator looked at the ground.  “We can’t solve every problem overnight.”

“Have you even tried?” Before the Senator could reply Charles continued, “And don’t just blame the other party for all the ills of the country, because they say the same about you.  Actually, you’re probably both right.  You’re each too busy trying to beat the other guy to a bloody pulp that you don’t have time to do your jobs.”

“I might point out,” the Senator said, “that distractions like this don’t help either.”

“Ah, but if you did your jobs in the first place, this holiday wouldn’t be needed to show you how sick and tired we are of politics as usual.” Charles had more-or-less managed to keep his voice under control to this point, but now he began shouting, “You’re not supposed to just be paying back whoever bought you your election.  You’re supposed to be working for ‘We the People,’ and until you get that through your thick skulls we’ll continue to do this every year.”

Without warning, Charles’ fist slammed into the Senator’s jaw with all the hatred for what American politics had become behind it.  Knocking over the table, the Senator fell to the ground with fresh blood flowing from his mouth.  “Although, we should do this every day.” Charles drew his foot back to kick the Senator in the ribs.

This caused the Senator to curl into a fetal position and the Secret Service agent to grab Charles and push him towards the exit saying, “You got your punch.”

“I know, I know.  I wasn’t going to kick him.  I just needed to make him cringe.”

###

I first wrote this story twenty years ago, back when we expected Bush to be the dumbest President.  I republished it in my collection Political Pies in 2012.  I was reminded of this recently for … reasons, and figured I should post it again.

Let me assure you that I do not advocate violence against our elected officials.  Violence should play no part in a democracy.  Still, I do think the line from V for Vendetta, “People should not be afraid of their governments.  Governments should be afraid of their people,” should be made the national motto.

Now, one little issue that I will point out.  Let me ask, why are we Americans and not British?  Well, one – of several – reasons is that the British politicians didn’t seem to care all that much about what the colonials had to say in regards to taxes.  Interesting bit of history, isn’t it?  And those who think we are taxed too much and those who think the rich aren’t taxed enough can both find meaning in that, which makes it even more interesting.