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Post by Libitina on Jul 9, 2009 23:29:21 GMT -5
Chapter 1: Picture, if you will, the rich land of Massachusetts. The very backbone of America, Massachusetts had stood for centuries as a heartland of culture, embracing the country’s very best, from politics to history, baseball to theatre, witches to science. It was the home of America’s forefathers who walked fearlessly the unknown land, developing it rather quickly into a success, and quite a comfortable, fortunate country in which to live. Massachusetts celebrated this by having only 5% sales tax.
The people of Massachusetts once elected the illustrious Barney Frank. Keeping this in mind, the two senators of the state a few years later were Magic Johnson and a little-known wheelchair-bound woman by the name of Wiangle Fries. Magic Johnson was the senior senator for the state, of course, and he watched Miss Fries’s run for office with keen interest. No one saw her face before election day. They heard her radio commercials, saw her lawn signs sticking out of the earth, and even caught the occasional glimpse of her wheels in television ads. Despite this aura of mystery, the people of Massachusetts were enchanted with Wiangle and elected her to office. Luckily for them, she turned out to be a total heartthrob babe once they finally saw her.
“Good people of Massachusetts,” she said to them in her acceptance speech, “I am here to serve you. You and the polar bears that Sarah Palin is killing. I’ll give her a run for her money in the next presidential election, no? *wink* We’re a good country, truly, and a good state. We threw that tea overboard for a reason, you know. And keep in mind that we have had some truly great politicians confined to a wheelchair, one in particular, and this should in no way affect my job.” (She was talking, of course, of Rhode Island Representative Jim Langevin.) “Thank you, Massachusetts. I am here to serve you. Now, who’s up for some hot chocolate?”
The crowd that had gathered for the speech burst into applause. Two hands, however, remained uncomfortably separate. These belonged to a man by the name of Filan. Filan was a man of quiet thought and many women, sometimes men if he was really drunk. But mostly, he thought. He spent hours and hours staring at his wall, pondering. Large sheets of white paper covered his walls, and when he had a particularly brilliant idea, he would jot it down. The papers were crammed with notes, most of them incomprehensible by now. And this man of deep thought, newly a resident of Massachusetts, was quite troubled indeed by his new senator.
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Post by Triangle Eyes on Jul 10, 2009 8:45:21 GMT -5
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Post by katekor on Jul 10, 2009 8:51:39 GMT -5
yes.
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Post by Sixteen on Jul 10, 2009 11:36:15 GMT -5
I had to rub my eyes in disbelief when I saw this.
Fantastic, Libby.
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Post by Libitina on Jul 10, 2009 13:18:56 GMT -5
Chapter 2: Filan lived in a large flat in Boston that he shared with some of his friends. Trillis, Tinabiania, BWam, Clixteen, Blarlotte, and Wijahu came and went as they pleased and got along fairly well, even though some of them shared bedrooms. Wijahu and Trillis shared a room and Wijahu was upset because Trillis kept smiting him with bolts of lightning; Barlotte and Tinabiania shared a room, and they both always smelled faintly of salami because of the former, much to the latter’s dismay.
Filan returned to the flat that afternoon following Senator Fries’s speech. His face was a set mask of quiet horror. “What’s wrong, bro?” Clixteen asked him. Clixteen was combing his hair because he was really cute. Filan pulled out his camera and browsed it for the picture he had snapped of the senator.
“This is the new senator,” Filan told him.
“Cute, isn’t she?” Clixteen said. “Makes me want to POST ON 667 ALL THE TIME.” They drooled over her body for a good five minutes, and then Filan remembered his purpose.
“Does she look familiar to you?” he asked. Clixteen stared intently at the face of this mysterious woman. Filan couldn’t tell if he was concentrating on the question or undressing her with his eyes.
“I’d push that wheelchair, if you know what I mean,” Clixteen said finally, with an agreeable nod of his head. Filan sighed.
“What’s all this about, mates?” asked BWam, coming into the room with a Vegemite sandwich and a beer. He sat down on the old, overstuffed sofa; it squeaked under his weight and groaned as if it had a hangover of its own (which was likely, considering the amount of alcohol that had been spilled into its cracks the night before).
“This new senator,” Filan told him, holding out the camera to his housemate. BWam studied the photograph.
“Babe,” he deemed, and cracked open his beer. It sprayed on him a little, and he grumbled, licking it off. Just then, Blarlotte burst into the room.
“Guys! Guys!” she cried. “Turn on NBC, quick!” Trillis, Tinabiania, and Wijahu followed her into the flat carrying her bags of groceries. Filan did as she was told, and there on the screen was Wiangle Fries, wheeling across a well-decorated stage. Behind her was the White House, and standing beside the podium to which she was headed was President Larack Brobama.
“How is that possible? I just saw here speak here,” Filan said, but they shushed him. The senator pulled the microphone to her mouth and cleared her throat to speak. The crowd before her and everyone in the flat sat in hushed anticipation.
“America,” said Senator Fries, addressing the nation, “this is a time for change. A time for severe change. A time for such change, I imagine you won’t know what to do with yourselves.” She paused. “You know, it’s a good thing I prepared myself for this with both the SAT and the ACT. Anyway, change is indeed in store, and stores are good in Massachusetts, which is where I’m from, because there is only 5% sales tax, unless you are getting fast food, because then I think that tax is something like 8%. Lucky for you, I am a Democrat, so the first change is that there will be the same tax rate in all states, and it will stand at 12%. You may be asking, how is it that this new senator has the authority to impose such tax laws?”
At this point, the mouths of each housemate had dropped. For they recognized this mysterious senator at last. They had known her once, back when she had gone by a different name. She, too, had been a housemate, until she lost it one day soon after moving in and starting making all sorts of obscene gestures to Filan. Since then, they had all but forgotten about this girl, Geslie.
And, before any of them could say a word, the senator finished her speech. “I am about to show you,” she said with a warm smile. With that, two masked men flanked President Brobama, covered his head with a potato sack, and whisked him away.
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Post by BSam on Jul 10, 2009 13:37:36 GMT -5
Yes
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Post by Triangle Eyes on Jul 10, 2009 13:38:48 GMT -5
D: (Meal tax is 5% in Massachusetts, by the way. Sales tax is going up to 6.25% in August though. )
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Post by katekor on Jul 10, 2009 14:40:04 GMT -5
YES
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Post by Libitina on Jul 10, 2009 18:24:22 GMT -5
D: (Meal tax is 5% in Massachusetts, by the way. Sales tax is going up to 6.25% in August though. ) Really? I thought it was 8% at the Wendy's I go to in Massachusetts. And really? I don't dig 6.25% at all. Argh. That's where I do most of my shopping.
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Post by Shelly on Jul 10, 2009 18:35:00 GMT -5
Haha, nice.
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Post by Triangle Eyes on Jul 10, 2009 19:02:25 GMT -5
D: (Meal tax is 5% in Massachusetts, by the way. Sales tax is going up to 6.25% in August though. ) Really? I thought it was 8% at the Wendy's I go to in Massachusetts. And really? I don't dig 6.25% at all. Argh. That's where I do most of my shopping. Maybe there was a local meal tax. Although I'm not sure that any places do that, because I think the state just recently started allowing that. But, yeah, 6.25%. I guess I'll just go to New Hampshire more often.
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Post by Linda Rhaldeen on Jul 10, 2009 20:53:54 GMT -5
Utah has a grocery tax of 3% and a non-food tax of around 6.75%, depending on the county. So it wins if you're buying groceries.
Also, Libby makes me really happy by writing this.
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Post by Mijahu on Jul 10, 2009 23:42:03 GMT -5
“Makes me want to POST ON 667 ALL THE TIME.” LOL. Also, amazing story so far.
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Post by Sixteen on Jul 11, 2009 9:48:09 GMT -5
Amazing.
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Post by Libitina on Jul 12, 2009 9:21:16 GMT -5
Chapter 3: “Hi. I’m Magic Johnson. If you’re not from around here, you may be wondering, ‘How did that doggone Magic Johnson get to be a senator?’ If you said that, it means you are a senior citizen, in which case I welcome you doubly to this commercial. Here in Massachusetts, any dream can come true, and that’s why I support our newest junior senator, Wiangle Fries, who takes office today. Service us well, Senator Fries. I’m Magic Johnson and I approve this message.” “This commercial has been paid for by the Massachusetts Democratic Committee.”
It was an awkward time for the commercial, for which the station had apparently planned previously. The housemates’ mouths hung open in a frozen state of disbelief. They did not see any of the commercials that followed Senator Johnson’s, and only snapped out of their stupor when the station cut back to the scene at the White House. Matt Lauer was all over it. The crowd was in a frenzy; the Secret Service was running around with no fingers, the result of a violent act Wiangle had planned in advance; and Wiangle was popping wheelies across the stage. Finally, she took the microphone once more.
“America, please calm down,” she said, her voice thoughtful and soothing. America paid no heed. “SHUT UP,” Wiangle shouted, tearing out one her wheel spokes and chucking it at the crowd. It hit a college student in the eye; he screamed and ran from the scene, bleeding. The crowd quieted with haste. The only sound was the muffled cry of Larack Brobrama, diplomatically calling out, “This is extremely inappropriate!” to his masked captors.
“Truly,” Wiangle said, “this is nothing to worry about. Indeed, you have just witnessed a coup d’état, but it is for the good of our country. I am good friends with Larack, and surely he will understand my reasoning once we have a nice long talk. I am here for you, America, and we have some serious business to take care of. But that will wait for another day.” With that, she wheeled offstage, flanked by two burly security guards. She was so beautiful and well-spoken that the crowd was momentarily dazed and did not much care that their president had just been overthrown. They shrugged, mumbled a few trifling remarks about how government needed some reworking anyway, and packed into their cars to go home.
In the flat, the silence that hung like a curtain over the housemates was beginning to fade. “Was that…” Blarlotte began, eyes fixed on the screen. BWam nodded. He didn’t even realize that his beer can was now sideways in his hand and now pouring all over the sofa, which Tinabiania had specifically vacuumed that morning. Wijahu gulped. Filan and Clixteen grasped hands. “Geslie,” Trillis squeaked.
“Hold on just a minute,” Blarlotte said, finally tearing down the atmosphere. “Why are we afraid of her? She was just a stupid housemate. She can’t do any real harm, not from the way she acted when she lived here. She couldn’t even cook.”
“She just overthrew the president of the United States with a potato sack,” Clixteen pointed out. “And don’t you remember those biscuits she made? Arsenic-laced, killed the dog.”
“SETH!” Wijahu cried, lamenting the poor lost dog. But then, a horrible realization crept over the housemates.
“Blarlotte…Filan…didn’t she make those biscuits for you?” Tinabiania asked. “The dog only got them by mistake.” Filan was pale. The hand of Clixteen that he held was turning purple from pressure.
“Yes,” he sputtered; his mouth was so dry that it was barely audible. For, during the last bit of Wiangle’s address, members of her campaign had periodically flashed, for just fractions of a second, signs of Yoko Ono, Yao Ming, Yo-Yo Ma, Michelle Kwan, and Amy Tan--all Asians. And surrounding the faces of each of these were rings of hungry, terrible flames.
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