With the Election Two Days Away...

I find myself thinking of the two candidates playing pool in an empty bar. Crooked ceiling fans brush up lonely cigarette smoke.

“Well, Barak, I gotta say, you put up more of a fight than I would have figured. You’re a pretty good talker, there friend.”

“Well, John, growing up in Indonesia will do that to you. You need to talk good.”

“How so?”

“I meant to say community organizer. I meant to say, being a community organizer will, uh, hone your skills on oration. Communication. You need to speak well.”

“Did anyone hear that?” John asks the empty bar, pool stick held loosely in-hand. “Anyone at all? We gonna get this up on the Youtube?”

The bar is empty and John sits down heavily in his stool. He looks down into his beer.

“Damn,” he whispers, “it’s lost.”

“Listen, John, I just want to tell you a story about me and my daughters sitting around the dinner table. Michelle and I had just talked about the bills and…”

“Save it Barak, it’s too late. I know I’ve lost. Guess this was my last shot, huh? Nobody’s gonna wanna vote for me the next time around, huh? A president over the age of eighty… No way Jose. These kids can’t look past their Facebook and radios.”

“Ipods, John, Ipods.”

“No, you pod, Barak. I really love this country. Could’ve done something for it. Could’ve made it better.”

“John, let me buy you a drink.”

“Sure thing, Barak, sure thing.”

“Say John?”

“Yes?”

“Think I could take Cheney if it came down to it?”

“Not a chance, son, but his shutdown sequence should be enacted soon…”

Barak lines up the eight ball, back corner pocket, and sinks it coolly before heading to the bar for another round.