I’ve cast my vote. I’m heading home from the polls. It’s a dark, forboding night. The cold, late fall air feels especially so as a wind comes in off the lake, chilling everyone in its path to the bone. I could walk the main roads back to my home, but that would take longer than the side streets. But the side streets aren’t as well lit. But what the hey, I’m a big guy, I’ve been called on before to defend myself and prevailed. Besides, no self-respecting criminal would be out WALKING on a night like this.
I choose the shortcut. Yeah, I’m a tough guy, but I have a low tolerance for the biting cold and prefer to risk the dark streets for the shorter walk back to the comfort of my fireplace and the snifter of brandy that waits next to it.
As I turn down Walker St. I hear something in the distance. The pulsing of a bass line and drum. “Hmmph!” I scowl, predicting another gangbanger wannabe in his Honda Civic with the big-ass amplifier and 15″ Subwoofers and big exhaust pipe that just makes an anemic car into an anemic car that has the volume to annoy an entire city block. Isn’t technology great?
I round the corner onto Redrum Avenue and suddenly stop. There, about 200 feet ahead of me is a crowd of people gathered around trash cans with fires burning in them to provide a few BTUs of heat. Sure enough, the source of music is coming from a Honda Civic with its hatch open, subwoofers blasting.
It’s a funny thing about subwoofers… you can hear the rhythm and the pulsing beat long before you can hear the actual melody (if there is one) or the vocals (if there are any lyrics).
The gathering has the essence of a celebration. People are laughing, dancing and, in general, having a great time. “What the hell? I think to myself. “It’s right on the way, and I might enjoy a little bit of that heat.” I walk on, towards the crowd.
About 150 feet away, I start to make out some of the lyrics to the song the crowd is singing together. It’s not clear yet, but I’m able to make out some of lyrics:
“…gonna… world.” I struggle to hear the filler, but the noise of the wind covers the rest.
“…gonna… world.” As I get closer, a tall apartment building blocks the wind, enabling me to make out more the the lyric which the crowd seems to be singing with greater enthusiasm the closer I get.
“…gonna… the world.”
“… gonna change the world”
“He’s gonna change it…”
“Obama’s gonna change the world!”
I stop dead in my tracks. The election is still on, but they are already celebrating a victory for Obama. Then I see the banner: “Change!” Clearly, I’ve chosen the wrong road as my shortcut to the warmth and safety of a home I’ve worked hard to pay for. Sometimes shortcuts lead us away from our destination.
I quickly turn to walk back toward the main road. But coming up from behind me is a group of about 100 people. People? To be more accurate, they look like zombies at this distance. They moved in a stilted, herky-jerky manner as if… wait! They ARE! They’re DANCING. But their music is different. It’s haunting. It seems to be coming from all around me, overpowering the music coming from the other crowd. No… now it’s coming from the Honda Civic as well. What the hell? It’s a driving bass line that I’ve heard before. Where the hell am I? OmiGod, I’m IN the music video for THRILLER by Michael Jackson. Even worse, the Zombies have targeted me! Is it because I’m not dead? Is it because I can still think for myself? IS IT BECAUSE I VOTED McCain-Palin??
As they approach me, the lyrics of their song kick in and there’s no problem understanding them:
(To the tune of “Thriller”)
“Yes It’s Obama… ‘Bama now
And nothing you can do will change what’s happening to you!
‘Cause it’s Obama…’ Bama now
You’d better Change or Get out – Get out – Get Out Toniiiight!!!!”
As the arms with rotting flesh thrust towards me, I run as fast as I can down Change Avenue and past Hope Place until I see the steps leading up to my front door and safety from the madness.
I take the steps two at a time until I reach the top. But instead of the front door welcoming me to security, it is blocked by a large imposing figure babbling something I can’t quite understand. But I recognize the voice of Blarney Frank. He stares at me through glowing red eyes as I struggle to break past him into the sanctuary of my home.
I struggle, but it’s of no use! With Blarney Frank blocking my door, I suddenly feel the breath of the beast on the back of my neck. As I turn to face my fate, I suddenly hear the goulish sound of Vincent Price’s voice laughing hysterically as “The One” reaches for me…
As I am about to be taken away to the “Change You Need” Re-education center, I suddenly wake up in a cold sweat in the comfort of my own bed. My dog Cooper lies nest to me looking at me curiously. It’s moments like this I envy the simplicty of a dog’s life. But I can’t take time to savor the moment… I have to get to the polls to cast my vote.
In a bizarre sort of way, I appreciate the nightmare I’ve just gone through, for it makes me realize just how important it is to get out and vote. And with the comfort of consciousness, I walk down the street towards the voting center, secure in my choice. I would drive, but it’s a great morning to be alive and I want to savor every step of the journey, every breath of fresh air and celebrate our Freedom on the way. Because it might not always be this way.
Happy Halloween! Now Get Ready To Get Out And Vote To KEEP OUR FREEDOM! KEEP OUR CONSTITUTION INTACT!