Julius Caesar Wins the 2020 Elections

"Believe me. We didn't steal the election. I know what I talk about, I work for the FBI." Stated Grub with a dead sure tone.  

"Yeah, I too work for the FBI. We work together, remember?" Asked his college Hog him annoyed. I hope the next boss hates Monk, The Mentalist, and all those series, so that I won't have to deal with those 'excentric detectives' all the time. In his 30 years for the Bureau, he had not witnessed a worse time to work with a partner.

"So, the old guy is dead. What now?" Hog asked rhetorically, hoping for no answer. 

"Can I state some complementary information so that the reader knows exactly what happened?" Grub asked rhetorically, hoping for no answer.

"No!" Shouted Hog, "no political commentary at the start of the story, or people from the other side of the fence won't read further!"

Both were silent for a second.

"I want us to get over with this. Once we are done, they will be gone, and I can live peacefully again." The simple hope of Hog.

Grub is puzzled by this train of thought. He, unlike his compatriot, could even imagine being a regular character in short stories. 

"Whatever," Grub started, "we need a new President, and I know exactly who."

Hog's eyes pinpointed Grub, "I hope it is no personal friend of you."

"He is, he is, but don't worry. He is currently studying at Harvard. No bull subjects, political science, and rhetoric." 

"I bet there is something off." - the police instincts came out of Hog - "For example: Why is a 35+ y.o. studying at Harvard?"

"Simple, he isn't 35+ years." Answered Grub bluntly.

"Oh, come on! That would break the law!" Although he shouldn't be disappointed in his college, Hog was.

Grub started to sing a spanish song that he learned from a fellow Bureau member. Hog shook his head and waved his hand around. "Whatever, at this point, I don't really care anymore. Let's get the guy!" He commanded, and both jumped into their car. 

Slowly their car rolled around Harvard campus. Hog was irritated for a second but then started, "Oh my God, it is carnival season. The worst time —"

"Best time of the year." Grub corrected the wrong attitude of his life denying friend.

Grub nodded in the southern direction. 

Hog looked at the guy. 

A few seconds passed.

Hog looked at Grub.

"This guy looks like Julius Caesar." Hog presented what he saw without any emotions in it.

"Great, ain't he?" Grub said while being deeply invested in this plot. 

Hog just raised his eyebrow.

"See it from this perspective," Grub started his pleading, "he clearly can run a country. He is Julius Caesar, right?"

"Right."

"Imagine the memes that would create. Hey, I don't want it to be true, but it is important these days. And to be honest with you, can you imagine a better guy for the job than a literal emperor?"

"I would be remarkable happier if I would be able to disagree with you." Reacted Hug with a defeated whimper to his reasoning. 

"We just put that guy in the car, drive him over, and then he delivers the speech, followed by beer o'clock - cheers!" Hug gave Grub the rundown of the following activities with the dire hope that he won't bring disorder to his plan.

Hug opened the door and walked in a straight line towards not-Julius Caesar. 

"FBI, I will confiscate this Roman here!" Shouted Hug as he entered the vision of Caesar and his consuls. 

"You can't do that! My daddy is a partner of Meyers-Meyers-Meyers!" Caesar spat those words at him.

"Don't care; we probably have a file on him." Hug shrugged him off as he lifted him. 

"Dear reader, start lifting. It will be a big help in your life." Both Hug and the author agreed on this point.

Hug walked towards the car with Caesar over his shoulder. 

"By the way, I am Dave," Julius said, extending an olive branch towards him.

"You are Julius now!" Hug reacted instantly as he always was more a beer than wine kind of guy.

"Dave! Don't worry! We are calling your parents!" His consuls tried to lift his spirits, but Hug put them in their place with a one-liner: "Shut up Zoomers."

Hug opened the door of the car and threw Caesar in. He heard a noise.

"Why are you sitting in the backseat, Grub?" He asked him, who is currently attending the bump at his head. When Grub tried to answer, Hug smashed the door closed. 

As he sat down in the driver seat, he told Grub, "Tell your friend about it. I don't want anything hindering our plan, capiche?"

Hug was silent during the ride, unlike his chatty friend. It looks like Julius was onboard. He cried a few times but being the president seemed to be a good deal for him. Julius tried to tell them about his time in the theater club. In the same second Hug hit the radio, and turned the volume up as Alice Cooper was shouting at Julius, "Shools out, forever!"

"Here we are, Julius."

"Dave."

"Julius."

"Julius, okay." Julius finally gave in by giving up his old name.

They left the car behind. The people backstage of the Inauguration were hyped to see him.

"Looks like someone leaked the happy news to the American people, haha." Hug guessed with fake laughter, as long as this is soon over, he honestly didn't care about this whole act.

Grub, on the other hand, was livid. "People don't realize what a great moment this is for America." He tried to whisper towards Hug while having his shaking fists in his pockets. Hug just raised his right hand upwards. 

"Silence."

After some people cleaned his toga & sandals, put makeup on him, and gave him an ultra-short voice couching, Julius entered the scene. It was the biggest crowd of all time - mostly Italian-American, thought. Julius crossed the Rubicon as he advanced towards the center state.

He raised both his arms.

"Citizens of Rome, Carthage must be destroyed!" He closed his eyes after this opening sentence. Hug heard whispering around him, something about Russia, China, and Iran. Grub threw the name Hitler into the mix. Hug threw Grub into the mix.

"As the Founding Fathers - those honorable men! - and the oracle of Delphi prophesied, I am here to conquer back the territory that we lost to Alexander the Great."

Again, whispering everywhere around him. Hug spotted a business journalist writing down the following headline, "America declares even more aggressive trade war against Xi Jinping."

Hell is other people, crossed Hug's mind.

"But, a country as great as Rome needs a queen that fits this time." Julius starts, "Am. I. Right?" He asked shoutingly the crowd, and massive cheers gave him an answer. 

Caesar looked around, no woman here, but he spotted Hug. He smelled something horrible coming as Julius fixed his eyes on him. Caesar ran towards him, but Hug loved slapstick comedy; he put a big microphone stand with one of those hairy microphones on top in Caesar's hand. Hug turned Caesar around, and thanks to a non-gentle kick by Hug, Caesar was back at the center stage.

Due to his theater club experience, Caesar didn't lose his momentum.

"This is my Wife, Xanthippe." He introduced her with a gigantic gesture, lifting her as high as possible in the air.

"That was the Wife of Socrates," Hug thought out loud.

"She is the daughter of Socrates!" Julius added some background to his Wife and mother of 7 children. 

The crowd went wild.

Hug just shook his head. "Those people make me sick." He, again, thought out loud. Now I can go back to my generic work, and when I say now, I mean tomorrow. He smiled, already imagining himself with a beer at home. With a big smile on his face, he started to leave until he saw a suspicious man standing next to the entry. He was very muscular, with white hair, a white beard, strong eyes, and impressive height. Hug's dream came crashing down in the second he realized who that was.

"I will give you a great treasure for kickstarting my newest plan," Zeus promised Hug.