The doors autolocked as Chet sat in the back seat. An animal cage, cruel and implacable as a Koch Brothers hyena attack ad, prevented further egress. Chet fidgeted. Maybe he had driven a little fast, but what decent human wouldn’t? It was election day and nothing would keep him from pulling every Democratic lever he could reach.
“What seems to be the problem, officer?”
The cop removed his sunglasses and fake beard. “You,” he said.
“Charles Hathaway!” Chet gasped. “Shouldn’t you be with your cigar-smoking Republican crooks, drowning another failed election cycle in scotch? What do you think you’re doing? ”
“What I should have done all along,” Charles said. “Preventing YOU from canceling MY vote!”
“Yes, Chet. Yes.” Charles’ voice was smooth and calm. “We’re going to take a little drive. And one place you won’t be going is the polls.”
They drove to the gated community of Pleasant Valley. Charles wanted Chet to see exactly the kind of people liberal politicians were hurting most. And hurt they did. Here a man drove a Lexus, when it should have been a Mercedes. There a soccer mom was forced to buy yogurt for the team, instead of Herbert and Gerbert’s. It was everywhere. Vacations to Europe canceled. Spring cotillions ruined. Sickening, irrefutable proof.
The day grew dark. Charles checked his watch. The polls were safely closed. “Have you learned anything, Chet?”
“Only that the rich have very nice lawns.” Chet stepped from the cop car. “And by the way, Charles. If I’m not mistaken, you didn’t vote either.”
The wail sounded louder than any police siren. “Chet………….. Noooooo!”