Campaign – Chapter 17
Campaign manager Katrina “Kate” Kindling is striving against all odds to get Senator Marcia Brute into the White House.
Chapter Seventeen – Election Night
Senator Marcia Brute is pacing the rear loading dock of the Torch Hotel, her supporters gathered in the banquet hall inside awaiting the election results. “Gimme another cigarette.”
Campaign manager Katrina Kindling hands the Senator one and lights it. “If voters knew how many of my cartons you go through in a week, that would be at least a 5% drop right there.”
Brute lets out a cloud of smoke as Secret Service agents in the back parking lot obediently avert their eyes. “You ran a helluva campaign, Kate.”
“Thank you, ma’am. It was an honor to get you to this point.”
“Your ex-husband did a heckuva job, too; given the inferior product he was forced to work with.”
“He’s always been good at selling shoddy merchandise.”
The Senator pauses and tunks some ashes off the end of her Marlboro. “How would you feel about me bringing him into my administration.”
Kate stops pacing behind her boss, who continues and turns back into Kate. “You want to hire Alf. My ex-husband. Who led a particularly brutal and personal campaign against you.”
“What can I say, I admire his vigor.”
“I don’t know what to say, ma’am.”
The loading dock door bursts open and two Secret Service agents draw their guns on the Senator’s childhood friend and “common man” consultant, Smackover, Arkansas plumber Bruce Bert.
“Everyone holster your weapons, for god’s sake. Bruce, what is it.”
Bruce removes his “Git Er Done” mesh trucker cap and drops to one knee, slicking back his thinning hair and sucking in his gut.
“Oh for chrissakes,” Sen. Brute mutters. “Bruce, get up.”
“Marcia, I have admired you from afar for far too long now.”
“Bruce, this is kind of a big night for me. And for the twelfth time, I’m still married.”
“I know you don’t have feelings for him like you do for me.”
“The only feeling I’ve got is I’m going to be sick.”
Bruce’s head sinks.
“Oh, from waiting on the election results. I still think you’re cute, Bruce.”
Bruce’s head shoots back up, a beaming smile stretched across his visage.
“Ma’am,” Kate whispers.
“Oh hell, I’m married, Kindling. I ain’t dead. Maybe I did make a mistake staying with the former President after his many White House dalliances. Like the mistake you made when you divorced Alf.”
The loading dock door bursts open again and the Secret Service draw their guns on campaign staffer Hattie Bloob.
“Ma’am, the results are about to be announced,” Hattie blurts with her arms raised.
“Let’s go see if the American people love me,” Sen. Brute resignedly mutters, stuffing her cigarette pack in Kate’s hands.
“If they’re anything like me, they adore you.”
“Oh give it a rest, Bruce.”
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