Election day

© 2004 Charles Richard Laing
All rights reserved.

The election was almost over by the time I got to election headquarters. Normally I was the first in line. I liked to vote bright and early, but with days off so scarce in this economy, my wife insisted I use the precious time to take care of all the jobs I had been neglecting around the house before I did my civic duty. Between the weeding and the mowing and the painting, it took me most of the afternoon. When I finished I didn't even take time to hop in the shower. Still wearing my sweaty work clothes, I jumped in the car and headed downtown.

When I got there I found old Bill Meyers presiding over everything. Some things never change. Bill had known me for over thirty years, yet he still insisted on my showing him a photo ID before he would let me continue. Some people just take their jobs way too seriously.

"How's it looking, Bill?" I asked. "Do you think Johnson is going to win another term?"

"You know I can't talk about the voting, Ted," he said sternly.

I really didn't expect him to answer. I was just making idle chitchat. Anyway, it was a silly question. Mick Johnson had been our mayor for nearly thirty years now. He'd never come close to losing an election. This year wouldn't be any different.

After I finished filling out the form, Bill insisted on reading it through carefully three times before he handed me my ballot. It seemed the ballots got bigger every year. This year's must have weighed close to five pounds. I picked it up and headed for the door. Elections were held out back.

The candidates were all gathered in the election pit. There were about twenty in all. Most of them were already dead, but a few of them still refused to concede. Bruised and bloodied as they were, I didn't see much hope for them. Still, you had to admire their grit. I must admit I didn't recognize most of them. I'm not terribly political. Still, I knew the ones that mattered.

There were still three of them left standing: Stan Murtaugh, Solly Weisberg and Mick Johnson. Mayor Johnson stood a bit apart from the other two. He looked cocky. There wasn't a mark on him. The others weren't quite so fortunate.

There was no doubt about it. He was going to win again. For a heartbeat I was tempted to vote for him, but I knew that would just be throwing my ballot away. Instead, I took it and hurled it at Stan Murtaugh. He was a bit too liberal for my taste. The rock hit him squarely in the temple. He went down. I knew he wouldn't be getting back up again. I turned and headed for my car.

In the morning I was stunned to find out that Solly Weisberg was our new mayor. We forgot all about that minor league baseball player who moved here for the winter. It only took one vote to end the distinguished career of Mayor Mick Johnson.

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