Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Rock the Vote: Part 2

The table was a dense mass of pamphlets and printouts that rose almost four-feet in height. The table was bowed slightly in the middle from all the weight.

“Name?” came a quavering voice from somewhere behind the stack.

“Jason Janicki, Grand Acolyte of the East, Master of Earth and Keeper of the Left-Hand Dragon.”

“One moment,” came voice again. There was the sound of paper rustling. A stack of paper quivered and then another, as if tiny paper moles were creating a serious of caverns beneath the piles in preparation for their inevitable attack on the surface world.

A paper emerged, held by a thin, old-person hand. “Here’s your ballet sheet and envelope. Deposit it in the black box when you’re done.”

I took the sheet, chest swelling with pride at the opportunity to vote and also from the liter of Coke I’d drunk on the way over. I made my way to a voting station and began to decipher the arcane symbols on the ballot. Apparently, I had to fill in some sort of ‘circle’ with a ‘pen’ using my ‘hand’ or ‘teeth’ next to the candidate or measure I wanted to ‘vote’ for.

I began the laborious process, trying to keep within the little lines. I erred, letting the black ink trail out and I cursed loudly, my vehemence melting part of the partition. I kept on, gritting my teeth as I filled in bubble after bubble. I started to sweat, which made my notes difficult to decipher. Soon, a small puddle of ink had formed under my arm and it occurred to me to remove my jacket and long underwear. Quite a show was had in the voting area that day.

After nearly ten-minutes of battle, I at last finished. I sealed my ballot within the provided envelope and dropped it in the large black box. A girl gave me a sticker, which I proudly displayed on my forehead. Making my way out of the building, I noticed Steve lingering by the door.

“Yo,” I said.

“We meet again,” Steve replied.

“Uh, yeah. What’s up?”

“I am, as the youth say, ‘waiting for my ride.’”

I stood in silence for a moment, letting the cool morning air rush across the cuts on my freshly shaved face. “You didn’t happen to be one of the ninjas that poisoned me last week, were you?”

“Most certainly,” he said, with a bow.

“I see.” I thought for a moment, which made my forehead crinkle and the sticker writhe in an interesting fashion. “Y’know,” I began. “Normally, I’d hit you with a brick and then give you a wedgie, but today is special.” I paused for dramatic effect and to think of something else to say. “Today, we voted.”


“Have a good day, Steve-san,” I said, nodding.

“And to you, Iron Polack-sama,” he replied bowing.

I considered just hitting with the brick anyway, but decided not to. I made my way to my truck, only to find that the stupid otter had used it as part of his damn. After a moment, I turned back to the school.

“Hey Steve. You mind giving me a ride?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” I leaned against the wall next to the ninja. “You gonna try and poison me again tomorrow?”

Steve shrugged. “Probably.”



Jerron said...

Must be going around. I was poisoned the day of elections, fighting my way to the polls with gumtion and the aid of Loperamide (which by the way has now become my god of antidotes).

I guess some ninja just don't vote, the communist otter-mongers.

Jason Janicki said...

If there's nothing I hate more than ninjas, is ninja Communist Otter-Mongers!

Glad to hear you didn't let their dastardly ways prevent you from voting :)