Election Night (Five minutes freewrite)

Both camps were sick with worry. The big day was just one week away and the polls concurred - the candidates were neck in neck. All fault of the old model, established God knows when, probably sometime when dinosaurs still roamed the earth. So useless in the new age, when there was no need to hit the campaign trail, go from one bloody place to another, telling the rednecks what they wanted to hear.
Seriously, what can you promise the crowds in this day and age that has not been promised before? Jobs, health-care, safer neighborhoods, more stupid parks for their stupid kids, you name it -any claim in the book, it’s been done to death. No wonder the candidates were tied.
The green candidate, Mr. Frumpy had tried to pull a fast one by issuing dire warnings about the danger posed by their neighbors in Assinia, but his opponent, Mr. Dumpy, promptly ridiculed him arguing that even small children knew their real enemy was Bullsinia.
The candidates spent the final week huddled with their closest advisers in secret locations, going over the crucial debate in minute detail. Poise, clarity of speech, lines committed to memory and repeated until both Frumpy and Dumpy were blue in the face.
Since the mass-adoption of the tap-to-vote app, it had been established that it was the final performance that swayed the election. Do a splendid show and tap-tap-tap - you’re the new president within minutes of the final gong.
Not all viewers tuned in from the first minute, everybody knew the first part was just speeches no one cared to hear and a boring Q&A bit. Not fun at all, except for the occasional trick question, sometimes a candidate failed to spot and launched himself in an elaborate answer only to realize he did not know the right answer, the kind of question a smart candidate would respond to with a non-committal ‘I’ll check with my advisers and get back to you’.

Ah, but the second part, now that was huge, during that hour the country was brought to a standstill with people dropping everything to watch what news-anchors called the talent show. Not without reason, as it did take considerable talent to dance to the annoyingly loud music played by the oversized puppet with a silly hat, that also dictated the moves. Frumpy and Dumpy took to their designated spots and started to dance, eyes glued to the puppet. It wasn’t much of a dance, really, as the puppet did some sort of leg-jerking routine with a little butt-wiggling thrown in for good measure. The truly funny part were the faces the puppet made - rolling its eyes when one of the two missed a step or sticking its tongue out to the camera.
Hilarious as it was, the dance was there just to warm up the audience for the final event. Frumpy and Dumpy barely got a five minute break to catch their breaths and get a glass of water before the drum-roll started.
The candidates once again took their spots, the set went dark for a few seconds, while the maddening drums threw the audience in a frenzy, that saw them gripping the edge of their seats or clenching their fists.
Then the lights came back to reveal two giant butts, generously smeared with some brown stuff the most sensitive in the audience insisted it must be chocolate spread.
‘3, 2, 1 - Go!’
Frumpy and Dumpy ran to the butts sticking out from behind red curtains which obscured their owners and started to lick them clean. The rhythm of the drums changed, but it never stopped, urging the candidates to hurry. The two teams in the studio supported them with ‘Lick! Lick! Lick’ chants. The screen was split so the cameras were focused on the candidates faces, monitoring their progress.
Mr. Frumpy manged to win by a cool thirty seconds, but Dumpy won the election by a landslide. See, in his rush to get the job done, Frumpy was too set, his face too determined, whereas Dumpy offered a much better show, punctuating every lick with a smile - his face was a symphony of eagerness, devotion, joy, gratitude, even rapture - as the headlines noted the next day.
While President-elect Dumpy took to center stage to receive the congratulations of both parties, behind the curtains, the owners of the two butts pulled up their trousers and held a silent toast - the next four years were going to run as smooth as their behinds felt.

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge. Today's prompt was: election! Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.

Thanks for reading!

Image: Pixabay