A Most Promising Man

   “Step right up, step right up! No need to push! No need to shove!”

Bryan “Carney” Barker III stood at a podium on a makeshift stage as thousands wearing red caps filed in for another in a series of rambunctious political rallies meant to inspire hope for the future and to sell t-shirts.

    “Take it easy. Don’t crowd. There’s plenty of room for everyone.”

Carney was the most trusted advisor for the most distrusted man in the world, the former President of the United States who was campaigning to be President again.

    “The President’s plane is a little late so how about some music while we wait!”

The crowd ROARED as the campaigns most popular theme song blared loud and proud.

‘Young man, there's a place you can go. I said, young man, when you're short on your dough, you can stay there and I'm sure you will find many ways to have a good time.’ Bump! Bump! Bump! Bump! The crowd contorted limbs into letters as they joined in the chorus.

    ‘It’s fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A! It’s fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A!’

    ‘They have everything for a young man to enjoy. You can even hang out with the boys!’

As the throng of patriots danced and sang, some dressed as comic book superheroes, Carney smiled and pointed at a few as if he knew them personally.

Carney came from a proud stock of snake oil salesmen, carnival barkers and grifters. He knew how to play the game which was why the President went to him for advice after losing the last election.

   “How can I win back the trust of the people?”

   “Promises baby, promises. Americans love promises!”

   “But I made promises the last time and it didn’t work.”

   “That’s because you tried to keep them.”

   “Huh?” replied the former President who proudly wore his density on his sleeve.

   “Look, you promised someone else would pay for a wall to keep the lepers out. If you’d left it at that, it would’ve been fine but instead, you actually tried to do it! What’s up with that? Americans don’t expect politicians to make good on promises. So, next time, forget about trying to keep ‘em because if you fail, they’ll think you’re a failure.”

The epiphany shined a light so bright the ex-Presidents skin glowed like a tangerine. So, he hired Carney to come up with the promises he wouldn’t keep.

Carney created promises of saving cats from being eaten by neighbors, buying Greenland, annexing Canada and throwing out all the Mexicans so Americans could pick their own radishes. But the campaign was in its final days and the polls were neck and neck. A BIG promise was needed and, as always, Carney came through. Only this time, the promise was so big even his most loyal supporters needed some proof to show he could do it. They were told they would see the proof at this rally, which was why, the airplane hangar was packed.

People wondered why Carney was dressed like a farmer and a farm backdrop from the set of Hee-Haw filled the stage from wall-to-wall. A shill shouted.

    “Hey Carney! What’s up with the Real McCoys bit?” 

Everyone laughed and after a moment of pretending to be embarrassed, Carney answered.

    “I’m glad you asked,” Carney said.

   ‘I’m glad you paid me to,’ the shill thought without saying.

    “Last week the President promised he would lower the cost of eggs on day one of his administration.” A general murmur of concern spread throughout the massed. “We all know why eggs cost so much. It’s because this guy…” Carney raised a hand puppet made in the likeness of the opposing candidate.

   BOOOOOOOOO! ‘String him up! String him up!” 

Carney continued.

   “… had the FBI kill half the chickens in America!”

  BOOOOOOOOO! ‘String him up! String him up!” 

  “He told us…” Carney used the opponent puppet to mimic a whine, “…oh, they had the flu!”

The hangar rocked with sarcastic laughter. Carney held his other hand behind his back.

  “Want to know what this guy said about that?” Carney raised his other hand. It was a hand puppet of the former President.

    ROARRRRR!

  “He said, BULLSHIT! I’ll fix it so every hardworking Americans can afford their two eggs over easy every day!”

   ROARRRR! ‘Two-over-easy! Two-over-easy!’

  “Fake news says the only way to bring egg prices back to normal is to get half as many chickens to lay twice as many eggs! They say, even God couldn’t do that.”

   BOOOOO!

  “No! Wait! Maybe this time they’re right!” The crowd settled into a general consensus of confusion. Carney continued, “Maybe God can’t get half as many chickens to lay twice as many eggs, but we know someone who can!” He raised the hand puppet of the President high.

   RAHHHHH! ‘Yes-he-can!’ ‘Yes-he-can!’

   “On this very stage, on this very night, he’s going to show us how!”

   WHOOPEEEE! RAHHHH! ‘Show-us-how! Show-us-how!’

As the crowd drove itself into a self-induced chanting coma, a man in a suit and dark glasses walked up and whispered something in Carney’s ear. Carney nodded and adjusted the microphone so shrill, ear-shattering feedback would temporarily deafen and silence the crowd.

    “Folks, I know many of you drove for hours in a torrential downpour. And to the families of the busload of bowlers who went over that cliff, our thoughts and prayers go out. But I’m sorry to say, the President won’t be able to make it tonight.”

Disappointment hung like a thick fog over the crowd. The angry voice of the shill rang out.

    “But he promised!”

    “No sir, what he promised was to show you how he’s going to lower the price of eggs!”

    ‘Price-of-eggs! Price-of-eggs!’  

Of all the crowds at all the rallies, this one was more enchanted with chanting than any Carney had ever seen.

    “So, in keeping with the promise made by the President I, with the help his press secretary Carla, will show just how he intends to make this the biggest and first promise he’s ever kept! Carla, front and center, please!”

The masses erupted in catcalls and crude whistles.

‘Car-la! Car-la! Car-la!’

The men especially loved to see Carla because Carla was a lovely thing for a man to see. Dressed in Daisy Duke cutoff shorts and a checkered bare-middle-to-the-max exposing farmer’s daughter blouse Carla pushed a large wicker basket on wheels to the center of the stage. A strange cackling sound came from within the basket. Carla took a deep bow.   To those in the front row it was clear, this year’s melon crop would be a promising one.

    ‘Whoo-hoo!’ Yeah, baby! Yee-haw!’

A man carrying a replica of a Viking shield and wearing an animal pelt hat with buffalo horns shouted.

   “I love you Carla!” The small leather loin cloth he wore struggled to contain his affections.

Before entering politics, the future President entered Carla. It was love at first leer. Carla was an actress who went by the stage name ‘Typhoon Tina.’ She knew, as everyone did, he was a highly accomplished businessman whose name appeared on many hotels and mail order steak packages. She knew he had owned an airline, football team, university and casinos. All of which went bankrupt. For the commander of the world’s mightiest military, it was easy to see, Carla had more to offer the nation than acting as a nurse at a fictional hospital for the sexually insane. So, he took her under his wing (and under many other places) to mentor her. Carla hoped one day to learn the secret of how to bankrupt a casino.

Carney and Carla stood on each side of the cackling wicker basket.

    “Carla, tell the people what’s in the basket.”

Carla hunched her shoulders and giggled.

    “Do you really think I should?”

The people chuckled at Carla’s attempt at innocence.   Carney, in keeping with the script, prodded.

“Come on Carla. Don’t be shy,”

   “I think it might be better if Derrick did it.”

Derrick was one of the Presidents two sons.

   RAHHHH! ‘Der-rick! Der-rick! Der-rick!’

Donned in bib overalls, work boots and a denim jacket, Derrick strode onto the stage, chewing a strand of straw.

    “Hello, everyone! Dad’s sorry he can’t be with you today. He got held up on the back nine by a foursome of liberals who wouldn’t let him play through!”

   BOOOO! ‘Play-ing-through’ ‘Play-ing-through!’ The base was in fine voice this evening.

   Derrick stood between Carney and Carla at the big wicker basket.

   “He asked me to show you how he and only he can get twice as many eggs out of half as many chickens! Drum roll please!” 

A drum roll commenced. Derrick removed the denim jacket to reveal arms with many scars and small red bite marks. He had to lean into the basket to reach what he was grasping for. Suddenly the sound of furious fluttering joined the cackles which became louder and sounded frightened. Derrick’s face twisted in pain as he wrestled with whatever was trying to defend itself. Had there been seats, surely everyone in the crowd would’ve been on the edges of them. Derrick pulled his arm out from the basket. He was holding a chicken by its legs.

    ‘Bawk! Bawk! Bawk! The plump pullet thrashed, twisted and spun in an attempt to escape. It scratched at Derricks face and pecked his arms with its beak, drawing blood.

    “Ow! Stop it you stupid chicken! Ow! Ow!”

Some in the crowd cheered, others laughed, the rest fell into silent anticipation waiting for an explanation which Derrick couldn’t give on account of the chicken’s head was now in his mouth. Carla tried extracting the bird by pulling its feet. Seeing things were going off script, Carney beat the chicken's butt with the puppet of the opponent.

Just as it seemed the rally was about to completely fall of the rails, a golf cart hummed onto the stage. It was the President! The crowd went bonkers.

      ROARRRRRR!

The theme song played.

    ‘Y-M-C-A! It’s fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A!’

The President got out of the cart brandishing a sand wedge.

    “Let me at that damn chicken!”

With hands covered in political puppets Carney tried restraining the President.

    “No Mr. President, wait! We need that chicken!”

Carla had managed to finally pull the chickens head from Derrick’s mouth before it finished giving the President’s son a barnyard tonsillectomy.

With sanity restored, the President waved to his adoring base and went to Derrick.

    “Good job son, now gimmee that mother-clucker.”

With a shredded tongue Derrick found it difficult to articulate.

    “Tanks dab bup be clarefil. She’s plemty plissed off.”

Blood splattered onto the Presidents golf shirt as Derrick spoke. The former POTUS liked the look. It appeared as if he was still standing after being severely wounded. It would make for a stirring meme. The President grabbed the chicken by the throat and thrust it out to the crowd.

    “I promised lower egg prices and lower egg prices you'll have!”

This was the first time one of his arrogant boasts failed to arouse a cheer. The President, Carla and his bloodied son were taken aback by the crowd's blank response. He would have to do better than choke a chicken to prove how this was going to work. 

   “Don’t you see? This isn’t just any chicken! It can lay two times as many eggs as an average chicken!” Confused by the math, the crowd remained mute. Carney rolled his eyes.

   “Oh, for heaven’s sake people, with this bird we can get twice as many eggs from half as many chickens, as the President promised!”

    ROARRRRR!

As he was often prone to do, the President decided to guild the lily.

     “And the eggs it lays are all red, white and blue!”

The crowd roared and Carney whispered in the President’s ear.

     “Nice touch, Mr. President.”

The President whispered back.

     “Thanks, now let’s get this show on the road. I want to get back to the driving range.”

Carney gave someone off stage a signal.

The theme from 2001: A Space Odyssey played, adding an air of suspense to the affair. Lights dimmed and all went silent. The President dropped the now lifeless chicken on the stage. THUD.

     “If one of those chickens can lay twice as many eggs, imagine how many eggs thousands of them could lay!”

Two dozen men and women, dressed like farmers with banjos and fiddles came on the stage playing, Turkey in the Straw. The three-hundred-foot-wide Hee-Haw barnyard backdrop parted to reveal what was behind. It was a barn! For the first time in the history of American political barnstorming an actual barn appeared as a prop. The crowd went nuts! Those with weaker bladders found it impossible to contain themselves. Hundreds of chickens poured from the barn. Young, beautiful women wearing bib overalls with nothing underneath and straw hats (also with nothing underneath) chased after the scattering poultry. The crowd's fervor reached never before reached levels of delirium! 

The candidate crowed over the cackles and screeching of birds.

    “There you have it my friends! With these chickens I will lower egg prices in a day and that day will be day one of my new rule as your Commander and Chief and all it'll cost you is one vote each!” The shill who’d been paid to shout things got a new chant started.

   ‘Egg-man! Egg-man! Egg-man! Egg-man!’

Carney and Derrick danced around the fatally fallen chicken on the stage. The President escorted Carla to the golf cart. After performing a magnificent wheelie, he gave the crowd a ‘thumbs-up’ and drove off to celebrate another promise well-received with his bleach blond protégé. 

As all this was happening, a novelty manufacturer in Ningbo, China was loaded up boxes of Egg Man novelties and merchandise for shipment to a warehouse in Palm Beach, Florida. Sales of Egg Man t-shirts, ball caps, digital trading cards and mail order frozen chicken nuggets gave the campaign more than enough to buy the election.

This time, with Carney as his trusted advisor and secretary of absurd promises, he knew better than to even try to keep his word. Day one came and went. On day two, egg prices rose. On day three, they rose again. Sales of Egg Man merchandise slowed, and the people wanted to know,    

    ‘Hey, what’s up with the eggs?” 

At first, the President ignored the question. But as the clamor intensified, the President issued a three-in-the-morning statement on social media that infuriated his base.

    ‘Shut up about the eggs!’

Thousands of followers stopped following. Desperate to get them back, the President turned to Carney who displayed little sympathy. “I told you, make a promise then just shut up about it.”

Panicking over his dwindling popularity the President pleaded.

    “Okay, okay! But what are we going to do to fix this?”

It never ceased to amaze Carney how people always failed to see the simplest of unethical solutions to a problem.

    “Hit Mexico with a 100% tariff, the price of avocadoes will go through the roof.”

    “Yeah, then what?”

    “The Super Bowl is in two weeks. The big game won’t be the same without a bowl of guacamole, so we'll make an avocado promise.”

The President’s grin spread from ear to ear.

To ensure a large crowd, Carney instructed the promoter to offer small bag of tortilla chips to everyone who came to the rally. There was nothing the base wouldn't do for a free bag of tortilla chips, so the airplane hangar was packed, again. Carney stood at the side of the stage and gave the signal for festivities to begin.

An eight-piece mariachi band strolled onto the stage playing Mi Padre. A piñata the size of a hippo hanging from the rafters burst open and showered the crowd with jalapeno peppers and diced tomatoes. Carla twirled onto the stage in a more-flesh-than-fabric colorful Latino dress, clattering madly on castanets.     

      ROARRRRR!!! 

The President came on stage wardrobed as a Mexican peasant wearing a sombrero with a serape draped over his shoulders. He could've been an extra from the movie, The Magnificent Seven.

     OLE! OLE! OLE!  

With eyes narrowed, he scanned the faces of his flock. Then he reached into the pockets of his Yves St. Laurent 100% linen Mexican Peasant pants and held them there. The crowd went silent. He then teased with something that sounded almost like a threat.

    “I’ve got something in my pants. Want to see it?”

Knowing the man's reputation when it came to such things, all the mother's put hands over their children’s eyes. Carla clickity-clicked the castanets.

    “¡Te va a encantar!”

Not knowing what she said but thinking it sounded good, the crowd returned to form.

    ‘En-can-tar!’ ‘En-can-tar!’ ‘En-can-tar!’

The President pulled two over ripe avocados from his pockets and gave each a squeeze. He held them up so all could see the smashed green guts of the fruit ooze from between his fingers. The Presidents eyes rolled so only the whites were exposed. Then, his tongue fell out and he babbled in tongues.

    ‘Ohhhhh!’ the crowd was horrified.

An elderly Mexican priest shuffled forward, sprinkled holy water and proclaimed.

    “El demonio se ha ido!” 

Carney provided translation.

   “The good Father said, ‘the demon is gone!’”

    ROARRRRR!

The throng surged forward like a red-hatted tsunami with bags of tortilla chips at the ready. Carney smiled proudly. 

    “Step right up, step right up! No need to push! No need to shove!”