V1.2 Shepard's Pie

The ushers were very kind, just so gentle, not clingy when my legs gave out all the way down the aisle to meet CJ Mach and his microphone. He had one of those 1980’s microphone that was skinny and came to a mushroom head and the man expected me to give him a kiss on the cheek (or the lips if I wanted to get lucky). 

“Tommmmmmmy Goooooooooround! Come on down.” 

No CJ. I wll not go down. (I felt like nearly puking). 

In all my years as a consumer, a sinner, a speeder and the occasional fictitious filing on a tax return – I had never succumbed to cheating on my spouse. CJ lowered his flabby facial glands and sprayed his mouth with some antibacterial lotion but my knees were knobbly. I knew it was for television and to help America feel hope for the middle class. 

CJ was waiting for that kiss. 

“You Love America, Tommy boy?" 

Well, you know the military…

“I mean you REALLY really love America, Tommy man?” 

CJ was getting tired of waiting and I was pretty sure the show was pre-recorded and that those ushers might have knives under their armpits because the one on the left was definitely pinching his jacket. 

CJ Mack got that microphone right in my face. It was time to see if there was a back alley gutter and waste-disposal crushing machine. Time to see if I could give up the Game Show Glitz to abstain from this man’s advances and kneel down and pray and say “Don’t molest me, I’m straight.” 

No. 

CJ could tell I was weak, a man with mortgage misfit payments, struggling on my last numbers of the FICO scores, trying to get socks that matched to be on national television. And my kids wanted to go to college. They desperately needed sixteen THOUSAND dollars apiece after they got their full-ride scholarships. Top Ramen had gotten expensive. 

The host bent down because I didn’t have upper arch loafers because my posture squished back like a person might do in their car before hitting another car head-on in a tunnel. Like there was only one way forward, slamming on brakes, or heels, could not stop this man’s momentum. Yeah, he was coming to molest my face. 

…

… we embraced. 

I think I wet myself on National TV. Can people see bladder spots in gray slacks? I am pro-kilt for all the reasons that a person needs upward ventilation and downward options. He actually kinda smelled nice. 

Maybe (just maybe) I took a second sniff. 

Perchance… I wondered why my feminine family had not purchased me this fine smell in all the birthday, Christmas, and Father’s Day collections. Did they want me to stink on National Television? Don’t tell me it's just cable. 

“Tommy buddy.” 

“Yees CJ?” 

I wanted to draw near this man. He smelled like Jesus really did have a baby. Dan Brown was trying to get that out—how people really could be great smelling like the Messiah. I wondered if he had starched…

“Tom, I want you to spin that wheel right there. Right over there. See it? You can do it man.” 

It was a huge Satan Wheel. Like an earthmoving machine tire got glitzy and had random countries all over the wheel. Whoever came up in the spin got missile bombed and smaller countries cost less money so the contestant could go home with the financial savings if I only spinned Guyana? 

No, Monaco. (Are they even bomb worthy)

I was very nervous as I lay hands upon the pegs of the wheel. What if I nuked Canada? I think I still had some family near Toronto. 

“You can do it, buddy.” 

The average missile was like 1.22 million dollars according to the LED display that the Game Show used. Most of the savings went to paying off the National Debt and my family got to keep ten percent of everything saved with 50 missiles being a baseline. If Mongolia didn’t have fifty cities to bomb then I would get ten percent of the savings. 

(Please be… )

I loved Mongolian cooking. This was a problem. Sorry India, you are beautiful but I can’t do another tandoori chicken. But you have too many cities to bomb and you or Pakistan are still our allies? I forget. Pakistan… wait. They have great kabobs. 

That was another challenge to the game. Whoever we bombed would never allow us to eat their food again in the US. One might find non-authentic food if you bomb France but it is not the same as a really good Crepe on the Salon Du Suzette. Stupid France has too many cities. 

Iraqi food? I can’t remember. The YouTube videos make it look like a decent place to go Anthony Bourdain and just drink/eat/repeat. I mean if we bomb the country, there might be a little left over to get out of personal debt, and send the kids to junior college for a while. Then they will marry junior college guys, which could be tricky, but the University Guys are less hardy… 

“Tommy?”

Hold on. I’m thinking. 

New Zealand food? Like mostly sheep? But I love gyros even if the proportion of sheep:beef can come down and it is mostly beefy. Who can we bomb to make me some money without losing the food supply? 

“Can I phone a friend?” 

CJ whispers, “It's just luck man. No one's gonna blame you. Come on .. you can do this.” 

CJ was all about making good television even if it was just cable and Comcast had to divest itself because they wouldn't sell NBC and they broke the Sherman/Pittman Robinson Act by owning multiple tiers of distribution. The new cable owner “Elon” didn’t seem to have any particular agenda except saving the US some money. 

I guess the missiles were getting old and we had to use the first ones before buying new ones. This was the best way to save some money. 

Also, the Pentagon seemed to favor those bombs that only kill people by shockwave instead of destroying infrastructure. For these reasons, it was theoretically possible to keep authentic Salvadorian food if it required special kitchen machines. The Salvadorians might be gone but we could still get the papusa. 

Brazilian Steakhouse? Yuuuum. I could definitely not kill Brazil. Though I have no use for poi... Hawaii wasn’t on the menu. 

I had to lift my arms to take hold of the pins and really wanted to give them a spin. Belgium Chocolates? Too fatty. We should nuke Belgium. 

Obviously, there wasn’t much money in Russia or China and they both have excellent food options. I was totally thinking of fate, freedom, money and food as the wheel just fell down in pure weight and started spinning. 

CJ put his arm on my shoulder. It was very intense. Maybe this is why people kiss him before spinning. 

The ticker went round and round. Everybody knew that there was only room for about 50 countries on the wheel but they were assigned by random lottery, except the 2 big countries. 

Ethiopia has great rice. 

Never tried Kenya food but my aunt lived there and ate a placenta. Hmm… she lived there a year. I wonder what elephants taste like. 

Tick 

Tick

Tick

I was actually curious about which food I would lose as the big wheel made a full rotation and I saw Uganda! But it kept spinning. 

What do they eat in Uganda?

Tick…

.

T i c k

.

England. 

The entire room was quiet because I could make a little money in the next 27 minutes as we bombed England. We were going to lose Dove Bars, bangers, Worcheshire sauce. We were going to keep mashed potatoes unless we bombed Peru but we would lose Rhubarb Pie because the judges had previously said that Scotland had popularized the dish in England when they were one country. Since Alba had just succeeded we weren’t actually bombing the haggis lovers. 

No more Earl Gray. 

Hmm…

26 minutes. 

The audience was still quiet or quickly texting on their cell phone. The game show had kinda gone international since everyone wanted to know what food we were going to lose. Technically an English chef might not be killed but he/she could not continue to serve English food in America. They couldn’t take away our biscuits and gravy! Ha, invented in the Ozarks. 

21 minutes. 

CJ was getting hungry and his staff had prepared the last English meal any of us were ever going to eat. 

It was even prepared by Gordon Ramsey. Poor guy was crying and needed a hug or a kiss. I get it now why the game show is called Kiss of Death. 

“Gordon, baby.” 

He tried to push me away because he believed that I was the reason he was going to lose his country. They would have to fly the royal family to Canada again, just like in WW II. They were going to have to see who made it over the border and then we would all wait a few years until the “rapes” could be replanted. That’s a name for partial counties or shires. I learned this after the bombing. 

“Salisbury Steak? “ Totally bloody like it would remind us all of the potential death toll and the silliness of bombs. The steak still tasted great. 

16 minutes. 

Ale. This was going to be the last English Ale, IPA, or other fantastic tankard I would probably ever have. That was pretty sad actually. I drank it slowly and wondered about anglican contamination. Why couldn’t we have bombed Ubekastan? I have never remotely eaten there. 

England. 

CJ waited until all the audience members had their last bloody Salisbury Steak. By extension, they had to take their Bloody Mary(s) now and their Newcastle. They had to watch their last match with Manchester United. They had to burn their oxford shirts in the morning. 

Crap. Algiers? It could have been Algiers. I dunno. My buddy Reddah says his country’s food is very good but he moved to Geneva. 

Good thing we didn’t bomb Italy? But we would still have Corsica. 

There were some people in the Audience who began to cry. You could see them crying into their food like something beautiful was about to die.

This is why some people hate game shows. It changes too much of their life. 

My throat was hard. 

Is Borscht English or…

Sometimes people don’t know what they’ll miss till the morning. 

16 minutes. 

The President took over the television screen and thanked our old pals in England for all they had ever given us, from Dahl to Shakespear, from language to good manners. I mean would children have to keep putting napkins in their laps for formal settings? 

Now, half the world hates the English custom of keeping the left hand in the lap while eating. A third of the world doesn’t use toilet paper but still enjoys finger food. Scones. We will miss you scones. If those are Irish don’t tell me because the target is not the UK it is only England. 

Lovely England. 

12 minutes. 

CJ had his head bowed and we were starting to get all nostalgic for never having a Fourth of July again. It wasn’t the same unless you could make fun of an English buddy. 

England. Inventors of the letter W. 

The land of Alfred the Great would be nuked. I can’t say that Arthur’s Camelot would be gone because Wales is technically a different country. I didn’t know. The sign said “England” and the king is also a Prince but it didn’t say “protectorates” it said “England.” 

We still get Welsh tarts. 

8 minutes. 

Someone yelled, Fire ELON.

It started as a small chorus and became a fire. FIRE ELON!

We all forgot about the 67 trillion dollars of debt. I mean, technically we owed England about 22 trillion and possibly there would be no one to collect. As I recalled Greece and Italy were going to get out some old debt as well. Norway could possibly take a portion of the oil field but Scotland would have the first crack…

6 minutes. 

Elon’s big head came over the screen. He usually talks very slowly but this time he started to really hyper fixate because of the countdown clock. 

“Look, it’s not very fair of you to say you want to end inflation, save money, and not nuke England. “

Elon’s typical waiting for the listener to understand wasn’t going to work. We had many cookies at risk if he waited. Elon looked quite sober and perplexed about how he could stop Americans from going into debt unless we bombed England. Those were the rules. 

3 minutes. 

Would American English become the new “high-brow” version of the language? Couldn’t imagine the world would give it to Canada or Australia. We were the first colony. Yes, Raleigh, Roanoke – Yes. We were there before the entire map went blue and pirating became a lovely thing. They might have to rename Drake’s Bay/Passage etc. Crap: seems to me England gets the chowder. I love chowder. 

92 seconds. 

A small child rose from the audience who did not have to kiss or hug CJ. He did not have to humble us with his Empire Loyalist pin that he took off his lapel and used to poke and slice his wrist. The boy started dripping blood all over the floor and held up his arm so it trickled, trickled down the arm to the shirt. His mother wasn’t even scolding. 

Elon blinked long amounts of time as the clock kept struggling down. 

29..

28

27

We held our breath. The cameras from space sometimes went blank because simultaneous bombs are really bright. This was crazy but it was immoral to nuke other countries unless you were going to nuke yourself. We weren’t bullies. 

Elon took a call on the phone and nodded. His head. 

We all saw him punch in a code and then the timer stopped. 

CJ looked at me and I didn’t do anything. 

Elon put down the phone. 

“Apparently, England would like to purchase the arsenal of America. You are now out of debt.” 

[a small roach walked over the carpet to where the child had spilled some blood]. 

Someone tried to play the victory theme of the boxer Rocky, after winning the fight, but no one stirred. 

Shepard’s Pie was safe.