The Usurpers

Abel (whose full name was Abehamr) lived in the city with his nonessential roommate Max. He was a man of few words having been raised with four sisters all of whom were tall, good-looking blondes like himself. People seemed interested in him without much effort on his part which made him an uncomplaining witness to many strange behaviors. He had already achieved the goals of being gainfully employed and having an apartment; now he felt a strong civic responsibility but at the moment the state was torn by a political rivalry in which the civic process itself was under assault.

On one side Seventy-year-old incumbent Jim Marx was considered a traditional southern candidate. A musician-turned-grocery magnate whose grandfather "ran lightning for Lindy", he had once been a spoken-word entertainer called a "balladeer" but today was the face behind a cornbread empire advertised by him picking a banjo. His strategy of using country club donors to bring wagons of rural folks to the polls was considered the more straightforward of the two campaigns.

On the other side was dapper, womanizing playboy Tom Nicks who claimed to be the son of three different Hollywood actors conceived on "one magical night of television". Once a child star, it was decided that it was time for him to get political. But the biggest headline was his nefariousness with women as young as fifteen of which there were many accusations going back to his teenage years when he dated women as old as forty-one.

Abel sat down to watch a televised debate between the two contenders. The incumbent was standing at his podium, a white-haired old man whose heavily dimpled face looked like a powdered biscuit. When the challenger’s name was called Nicks emerged from the curtains in a tuxedo accompanied by two escort models wearing cocktail dresses slit to the navel. Nicks had a face that looked like Clark Gable in the scene where he sneers at Vivien Leigh. When he got to the podium the escorts sauntered off stage and he said to them using the microphone "Thanks vixens, see you later tonight!".

The moderator called for silence and each candidate made his opening remarks.

"Call me old-fashioned but I'd like to speak about agriculture." Jim Marx said in a weathered voice. "We’re able to make organic fuel out of marsh grass and yet look at the crops we choose to grow instead. And I'll tell you what, there are secret agendas in the legislature that are as slick as the bottom at the end of a baby, conspiring to take away everything that gives men and women the same slice, keeps old folks alive and lets you have any say over your own affairs."

"Yeah that’s all just baloney pudding." Tom Nicks smiled and winked with a flash of light from his teeth like a toothpaste commercial. "Swamp juice? You’ve been eating crazy beans with a cross-eyed sailor!"

The audience gasped and roared with laughter. The moderator looked up at Nicks to finish his remarks, but that's all there was.

"Mr. Nicks I'd like to bring up the charges of sexual misconduct from twenty different women.” she stated. “You have yet to make any recompense for your behavior, so how are you qualified to run for office?"

"By restoring a message of morality and trust that has long been absent, Darlene." he said with a look of benediction. "Let me spell it out for you; mo-ra-li-ty. How refreshing is it to hear someone in this day and age actually say that? We have allowed our values to stray far from the mark with this slander."

"But how is being a known predator of women acceptable?"

"It's acceptable because I’m not a deviant." he answered slyly. "When someone is trustworthy it’s his good word against a vicious sorority of liars. Let me put it this way Darlene; would you trust this face with let's say... going all the way on a first date?”

He leaned roguishly against the podium with an amorous look. The moderator picked up her cards and fanned her chest with them.

“Is he flirting with her?”Abel thought to himself.

"Are you going to tell us what your platform is tonight?" she moved on to the next question.

"Not while I'm standing here, Darlene." he objected. "Look at the mockery our system has become, letting a Progressive on the stage!"

His opponent did a double-take.

"Good gravy, in what way am I a progressive?" Marx interjected. "I just want this community to have a plan for the future."

"Exactly, he wants it to proceed!" Nicks finished his argument.

"But why should voters choose you?" the moderator pressed on.

"There is no choice, Darlene. Voting has become a joke so why even go to the polls?"

The mumbling in the crowd increased to a disorderly clamor.

"What do you say to the claims that you’re a straw man at the behest of political shadows like Sigisimund Munfro?” the moderator posed.

"I don't know who that is, Darlene." he answered.

"But didn't you go to high school together?"

"I never went to high school Darlene. It wasn't part of my heterosexual agenda.”

The audience was now riled up into a state of confusion not normally seen at formal events, people getting up out of their chairs and turning their jeers and bickering on each other. Abel turned the screen off.

He leaned back in his chair astonished by what he had just observed. Aside from being a hedonist the challenger was a complete idiot. The man didn’t seem to know how to run for office, so what was actually going on here?

Like a good citizen Abel went to the local registrar’s office hoping to get some unbiased information. As he was waiting to cross the street he noticed the figure of a man sneaking (for that was the only word for it) along the sidewalk like a stereotypical burglar does; constantly looking over his shoulder, following the edges of buildings instead of just walking like a normal pedestrian. He was short and stocky with black whiskers and the collar of his coat was pulled up to conceal his face. Abel wondered if his entire commute was like this, a man who is afraid of being seen.

When he arrived at the registrar’s office it was a pleasant scene with festive campaign signs and a friendly, blonde-haired woman who looked like a stewardess encouraging people to go inside.

“Are you here to register today?” she greeted Abel with an inexhaustible smile.

Abel nodded that he was.

“Well I must say I wish everyone was as well-dressed as you. You make the voter look good!” she overloaded him with compliments.

Abel wasn’t really prepared to say anything to this so he just let it pass.

“So we need volunteers to get the word out pretty badly.” she gave him a sheepish grin. “Since you take your civic duties so seriously I’d highly recommend you get involved. I could show you the ropes.”

Abel was trying to think of what to say so he could proceed inside, but she was looking over his shoulder and said “uh oh”. Abel turned around to see a dark figure approaching from the sidewalk.

“Well well well, is this an illegal public demonstration?” the black-whiskered skulker raised his voice. The volunteers and a dozen people standing outside the building turned to look at him.

“Mr. Munfro you were asked not to come here.” the young blonde woman approached him.

“What’s this a Saturday night intern?” he insulted her. “Are you turning tricks or turning votes?”

She retreated back to where Abel was standing. The strange man began pacing in front of them like a parishioner, plucking campaign signs out of the ground and breaking them over his knee until the registrar himself emerged at the top of the steps.

“What is the meaning of this disturbance?” he demanded. “Both parties are represented equally here.”

“I see a Marxist with a history of misinformation!” Munfro pointed at him. “You think you can disturb the peace by setting up this one-sided political sweatshop in our fair city?”

“Harassing a polling place is illegal.” the registrar responded. “This kind of voter suppression will not be tolerated.”

Munfro marched up to the front of the building, reached up and tore a poster down in front of him.

“You paper this city with your Marxist agenda and claim to be equal?” he hissed, tearing it to shreds. “Citizens walk in and Jim Marx supporters come out?”

“That was a list of legislative issues on the ballot.” the registrar argued. “Why don’t you make your opinions known through legitimate means by setting up pollsters and tables of your own?”

“Heh heh heh…” he barely concealed his outrage at this suggestion. “You think I’m going to play a game where you make the rules so you can decide who wins?”

He turned toward the growing crowd of onlookers and spread his arms like Moses parting the Red Sea.

“They want to feed you a list of their priorities to disguise the real choice here!” he declared sternly. “But they don’t have the power to force you to do this! There is a real contest with more at stake than just petty issues! That means if Tom Nicks wins there are no issues!”

He pumped his fist and people reacted with confusion.

“One of the biggest points to be decided is Gerrymandering.” the registrar pointed out.

“Who cares about some flyover counties?” Munfro responded easily.

“Women’s reproductive health is on the block and towns are going to be denied the right to have bird sanctuaries.” the registrar continued.

“Disease mongering and sanctuary cities?” the man’s pejoratives seemed to have no end. “Were you born a pinko or did you have to grow into it?”

“What do you mean by that?” the registrar was genuinely puzzled. “I listen to gospel music and drive an Oldsmobile!”

“Exactly, a gin-burner!” Munfro declared.

The confusion grew in intensity as Abel observed this agitator, this non-candidate who was skilled at hurling accusations whose result was a moral panic.

“I’m not going to let you frighten people away from the polls.” the registrar stepped back to allow a line of people waiting to enter.

“Yes go on, get your food stamps!” Munfro beckoned them. “You know what they say, a friend of the Black man is a friend of the fat man!”

Now the disorder was bubbling over; some people were staring as if they had been smacked while others ventured out of their buildings. Abel’s fist was clenched in his pocket. He wasn’t skilled enough to do anything about this, but his roommate was.

According to the day’s news there was nonsensical political unrest erupting in the cities as a result of low turnout of traditional voters leaving uninformed fringe elements as the main participants. This was worsened by the news that Jim Marx had taken ill and would have to suspend his campaign for a few days.

Max suggested Abel get involved himself but he was smart enough to know he was too ignorant of these games to be a participant.

"You are living proof that talking is a liability." Max said. "So why not use your power?"

They went to the incumbent's party headquarters. They wanted to know if there was a way the debate could go on without their candidate physically being there. As Abel’s 'manager' Max explained that it was important to keep the electoral process going, and that Abel could not be more serious about this.

"Is this true?" the woman looked into Abel's blue eyes. His eyebrows raised with a look of sincerity that would charm the eggs out of a hen. Employing his skill to its fullest led them to the boardroom where it was decided the debate would proceed as planned.

The town hall was prepared for a packed audience. Tom Nicks arrived on stage with the same flair and disrespect as before. Abel stood at his podium in a tailored cream-colored suit; his blonde friend from the campaign approached him to give him his cards and straighten his tie, during which he was completely unmoved. Nicks himself watched this with intrigue.

Munfro who was behind-the-scenes like a hairy shadow recognized Abel from the incident on the street. He did not wish to be seen and ducked out through a stage door. The house lights went down.

"Hello and welcome to the second debate of this campaign season." the moderator began. "The incumbent Jim Marx is on sick leave and has agreed to let campaign volunteer Roger... I'm sorry, Abel Moore speak in his place." she smiled. "We welcome him and Mr. Nicks to the stage. The challenger will make his opening remarks."

“Well Diane, Jim Marx is still the ugly face of his party and this godless election." Nicks sneered. "I was going to say he’s just a lymph node with cramps, but he isn’t here to take it like a man, so…”

He looked at Abel waiting for him to say something so he could shoot it down. Abel looked indignant as if statements were beneath him.

“Mr. Moore, may I call you Abel?" the moderator inquired. "Your party’s management has said that you are just here to uphold the inherent goodness of our election process to keep certain important issues in the spotlight, and for this you are accepting absolutely no reward?"

He smiled and then leaned forward to his microphone.

"Yes." he answered simply, and leaned back again.

Nicks opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. The crowd erupted into applause at the brilliance of this answer. The next question went the same way; his muckraking had no target so when it was Nicks’ turn to speak his gaffs were no longer a novelty. By the end of the evening the audience was calling out Abel's answers for him, which he affirmed with a congenial nod leaving his opponent to come up with something. Nicks looked around as if searching for someone to tell him what to say.

The debate received high ratings and Abel took many handshakes. After nodding with some reporters, he stepped outside to get a breather and saw in the corner of his eye a figure scampering away and boarding a bus. Something possessed him to find out where Sigisimund Munfro lived. He caught the next bus on the very same line.

It took him two hours out of the city and into the night. Abel was able to find his building and apartment from people were happy to oblige him. The man lived in a slum.

Munfro had returned to his apartment wheezing and was talking on his phone.

“No you’re not listening to me." he said hoarsely. "We can still take control of the party! Nicks doesn’t care, we’ll give him money or women or something. There’s no danger of a man growing a spine if you can shoot him in the back!”

“Then why not just shoot Marx?” a voice responded on the line.

"Why would we assassinate our opponent?" he answered. "As if he was any threat to us. No you shoot your friends. We need enemies! Hello? Hello?!”

There was a solitary knock on the door. He had neglected to turn the lights on; the only illumination was a garish orange glow that flooded the windows. The door swung open and Abel was standing there in the hallway. Munfro dropped the phone and backed away from him.

"What are you doing? Home invasion!!" he stammered.

Abel walked slowly toward him, his face an unrevealing stare neither smiling nor livid. Munfro grabbed a hammer and swung at him clumsily with it, which Abel deflected easily with a closed umbrella.

"You were at the debate." Munfro realized frantically. "Why are you here? This is my house!"

Abel gave no reply but approached him steadily. Munfro retreated to the back of the room.

"I don't know what you think you saw but you don't have anything on me!" his accusations bounced off of him without reaction.

He tried to make a break for it but his stout legs slipped out from under him and he stumbled to the floor, crawling to the back corner of the house with Abel at his heels.

"No more!" Munfro turned and put up his hand for mercy. "What do you want from me?"

Abel said nothing. He watched the man steady himself against the back wall and smiled at him.

"Are you hoping to get something for your silence?" Munfro breathed heavily. "Perhaps we don’t have to be enemies."

Abel reached down and grabbed him by the coat collar to force him to look him in the eye.

"I'm asking you to name your terms!" Munfro pleaded. "Every man has his price. For God's sake why won’t you say something!"

He wriggled free of his coat and stumbled out the back door, landing in a crouched heap at the top of the fire escape.

"Don't think you're so righteous!" the man scowled up at him. "There are people who think the biggest need in the universe is enforcing rules and stamping out anyone who breaks them, and those who think the biggest need is to stand in the way of self-made enforcers and their arrogance! I was put on this Earth to throw roadblocks and watch their frustration! There's a war out there and we have to do what we have to do!”

His hand was on his chest and he was breathing in fits. He pulled himself upright using the iron railing, hobbled down the steps and disappeared into the dark.

When Abel returned to the city it was daybreak. He was considering running for office himself someday. When he saw Max again in the park he wished him well and went his way. There was a pretty young volunteer waiting for him on the other side of the fence.