Bookshelf Battle

The punch was delicious. The cheese and cracker plate? The best that Price Town had available…on sale.  And the banner? Due to a poor tape job it was starting to slide off the wall but you could still make out:

EAST RANDOMTOWN MAYORAL DEBATE

There was a high turnout in the East Randomtown High School Auditorium and by “high” I mean a grand total of seventeen citizens showed up for the event, and on my way in, I spotted several of them sniffing glue in the parking lot.

The Right Honorable Mayor Battler reviews his polling data.

From my spot at the podium, I surveyed my fellow East Randomtownsfolk.I’d seen abstract paintings with more enthusiasm.

“Good evening, everyone,” I said. “Before I begin, I’d like to read a prepared statement.”

To my right, my darling Video Game Rack Fighter sat, her eyes and hands tied to a portable video game player. It’d of been nice if she’d paid attention, but at least for that night only, she traded in her usual snow hat for a Jackie Onassis style pill box hat. It was her way of showing she accepted her role as the First Lady of East Randomtown.

“Ahem,” I said.

Silence.

“Babe, my speech?”

Without looking up, she handed me my tablet.

I cleared my throat and read the following:

Citizens of East Randomtown,

Last fall, our humble town was decimated by a horrifying zombie apocalypse. Our homes were looted and burned to the ground…well, more so than they usually are in normal times. We lived in fear of constant, non-stop zombie attacks and many of us were forced to kill our friends, neighbors, even family members…again, more so than we usually have to in normal times.

The rebuilding process has been slow but steady and the good folks at Gambino, Gambino and Stugotz Construction assure me, and I quote, ‘OH! There’s no price gougin’ goin’ on ova’ heah! Fahgeddaboudit!’

Now comes the most difficult part. During the chaos, I stepped into the role of acting mayor. As you might recall, I did so because our duly elected mayor, Mr. Philbert T. Bramble, was devoured alive by zombies and then our self appointed dictatorial mayor, Mr. Doug Hauser, met his demise whilst locked in a gruesome trial by zombie combat with yours truly.

My friends.  My neighbors. My dear, dear, East Randomtownsfolk. I say to you today, that the time I have spent as mayor has been…

NOTE TO SELF: PAUSE FOR EFFECT

…truly one of the greatest nightmares of my life. Really, I’m not kidding. It is an enormous burden, not to mention a colossal time suck.

You are all literally the most awful people I have ever met in all of my days and it is virtually impossible to please any of you. None of you are ever willing to pitch in and lend a hand, but when it comes time to criticize, there you are, ready to bitch me out over every little thing. You lousy ingrates should be ashamed of yourselves.

I just can’t take it anymore. Therefore, it is without a heavy heart at all that I inform you I will not seek re-election as your mayor during next month’s special election.

As one of my last duties, I will serve as the moderator between the two gentlemen who have stood up and loudly declared they want in on this shit show, and God bless them for it.

Meet your candidates. On my right is local accountant Mario Guzman, who served as an advisor to Hauser and joined in the chorus of chattering idiots who falsely accused me and sentenced me to a trial by zombie combat, though I try not to hold it against him because when he learned he was wrong, he felt like a super mega dick. His words, not mine.

To my left is Sal Liberatore, who we all know as the owner and proprietor of Uncle Sal’s Pizza. Sal, you make the best pizzas in town and frankly, your barbecue bacon cheeseburger deluxe pie is one of few things that make life in this filthy suck hole of a town bearable, so while I can’t tell you not to run for mayor, I will ask that if you win, to please not allow the responsibility of your new position interfere with the quality of your fine Italian cuisine.

NOTE TO SELF: Pause for Video Game Rack Fighter to make a crack about how my fat ass doesn’t need another pizza. Laugh politely. Die a little inside because you know she’d rip your head off and bounce it around like a soccer ball if you were to make a crack about her weight, but its cool. She’s still the best.

Gentlemen, let’s begin.

“Mario,” I said. “You won the coin toss backstage so the first question goes to you. I’ll note that these questions were prepared by the editorial staff of The Random Rag, East Randomtown’s premiere source for news.”

I took a sip of water.

“Candidate Guzman, iguana infestations are at an all time high in our little burg. Reports from citizens claiming they can’t step inside their homes without gaggles of little green lizards nipping at their ankles have been steady for the past few months. As mayor, what will you do to stem the iguana tide that threatens to drown us all?”

Mario was poised and professional, a shoe in for higher office.

“Thank you, Mayor Battler,” he said. “And thank you, East Randomtownsfolk for coming out tonight. Go Mascots!”

That’s our home team. The East Randomtown Mascots. They suck, but you didn’t hear that from me.

“We certainly have learned a lot about zombie physiology in the wake of last year’s zombie apocalypse. I, for one, have gained a lot of knowledge about how these nasty beasts operate during my volunteer work with the crews that have been scraping blood, guts, and brains off of literally every surface in town. One thing we have learned is that iguanas are attracted to the odor of rotten zombie flesh and thus these lizards have descended on our town to feed.”

“Whoa,” Sal chimed in. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“Mr. Liberatore, please wait your turn,” I said.

“No,” Mario said. “I’m glad Sal said that because it is a good thing. Sure the iguanas are annoying but I tell you, I’ve seen them in action and these little suckers are eating zombie flesh faster than the clean up crews can haul the undead remans of our friends, neighbors, and loved ones to the giant zombie carcass bonfire in the middle of town.”

“Which some environmentalists say is contributing heavily to global warming,” I said. “But I don’t want to get to our next question prematurely.”

“People,” Mario said to the bored crowd, “I’m telling you, just put up with these nasty little jerks for a few months more and I guarantee, they will speed up the clean up effort tremendously.”

“Your response, Mr. Liberatore?” I asked.

“Yes,” Sal said. “I too would like to thank the East Randomtownsfolk for having me here tonight and would also like to express my support for the East Randomtown Mascots. Also, Mayor Battler, I’d like to express my agreement with your better half and say that I too don’t think your fat ass needs another slice of pizza, and the fact that I say that at the risk of losing the money you bring to my business should indicate how worried I am about your constant consumption of my fabulous pies.”

“Duly noted,” I said.

“Now then,” Sal said. “Sure, we could just allow the iguanas to eat all the piles upon piles of zombie carcasses…but do we know the scientific ramifications of allowing iguanas to eat zombie meat? Could it turn them into a race of highly rabid killer mutant zombie iguanas? Are we inviting a zombie iguana apocalypse? I don’t think even your writer friends could get us out of that one, BQB.”

“They probably could,” I said. “I’m a good friend of the author of Highly Rabid Killer Mutant Zombie Iguanas actually. It got a five star rating on Amazon.  But that’s besides the point. Whatever we do, these iguanas can’t stay forever, so I must ask you two, as the only two candidates…”

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning flashed outside, and there was a devastating thunder clap, shaking the room. The insanely bored crowd didn’t notice. Video Game Rack Fighter didn’t even pick her face up from her video game.

Almost on cue, the double doors to the auditorium swung open, and a dark, eerie silhouette laughed loudly.

“BAHHHHH HA HA HA HA HA HA!”

“Um, sir?” I said. “I think you’re lost. The methadone clinic is down the street. You’re interrupting candidate’s night.”

“Oh am I?”

The party crasher stepped into the light. His dirt beard. His dopey expression. His baseball cap that he never took off.

“LEO?!” I asked.

“That’s right!” Leo said as he walked down the aisle. “Leo McKoy, one of East Randomtown’s Finest Citizens and as you’re also all aware, I am the Man Who Met James Van Der Beek. And I’m not here to declare my candidacy for the highest office in East Randomtown!!!”

Burt Cooper, who never went anywhere without his animal control uniform, stood up.

“This town already has a dog catcher, McKoy!” he said.

“No!” Leo said. “I WANT TO BE THE MAYOR!”