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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 13 (v.1) - Clinton Headquarters

Submitted: June 11, 2017

Reads: 113

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Submitted: June 11, 2017



At his new campaign headquarters in the midtown area, Clay is sharing a conversation on the phone in his prim, clean office, one without the constant wailing of police sirens when one opens the window.

"-yeah, really David, if you want- sorry, Mr. Dik. Look, you donate a million and a half and I'll push to kill corporate taxes... Of course the people will like it if I'm giving them slightly lower taxes, they'll be fine. Hell, I could probably raise the people's taxes and they'll love me. I mean, Reagan did it 4, 5 times? Well, you see it would be a million and a half for it but your previous lack of fervour and support for Marcus Gauche left my feelings hurt. So at this stage, a million and a half gets you a 15% corporate tax decrease in 4 years time. You'll take it? Deal." Clay hangs up the phone as Corey speeds through the door into the office.

"Mr. Clay? Mr. Clay." 

"Dear God, what is it now, Corey? Can't you see I've been busy reeling us in a victory?"

Corey now stands himself more straight, more commanding of attention, and states to Clay:

"Polls are out. While you have a massive lead on Gordon and Gauche's VPs with their running mates having just died, you're still being put, on average, 8 points behind your last real opponent, Amwolf Klein."

But Clay barks to his assistant:

"I don't want to here you speak that name again, and I certainly want to hear you speaking something other than statistics here, Corey. Because while you were picking at older polls all day like it's the end of the world, I brought aboard our flagship America's top investment bankers, news executives, corporate philanthropists, and congressional lobbyist groups. With them, we'll have all the power needed to win: round-the-clock media coverage, merchandise sales, web and TV ads, top brass support in Congress, and paid enforcers to "correct" what's being said online about me. Our campaign will be unloading the power of an A-bomb. Just check back on your polls in a week's time, we'll be barnstorming them. It's a whole new way to campaign."

"Well actually, that campaign would be quite common in American ele-"

"We're going to make everyone, and I mean everyone, feel compelled to vote for me. It'll be like no one else is on the ballot. The 80 year-old rednecks and millennial socialists will be throwing themselves into each others' arms when I win from how broad our message's appeal will be. The opponent's online communities and dank meme stashes, packed full of mildly witty wannabe comedians, will be completely steamrolled by my own. But even that whole plan is just what to fall back on if his death doesn't meet it's deadline."

"Wait, why would you still want him dead then? You pointed it out yourself that at this point these new additions will mean death for his campaign once they come into effect. These hits have helped us enough, we've picked up their former contributors and rallied them to one candidate. Klein- sorry, the opponent, doesn't have contributors other than unions and New England. We already pissed in the soup bowl and got away with it, let's not start stuffing it full of goat shit when we may get caught this time around."

This time, though, Clay pauses to formulate a concrete and calmly delivered answer.

"Corey, you've been alongside me, committed, since, what was it? My senate campaign? I'm starting to question who it really was I brought along. That kid, Jacob, said something on that first phone call I had with him, as he was agreeing to all of this, showing not only that he knows what I mean or sympathizes with what I mean but that he lives the way I mean. He brought up the slogan you must have forgotten from that senate campaign: 'No point in holding back if the only objective is fighting back.' You're useful to me if you can at least see what I mean, so do you?"

"Yes, Mr. Clay, I can see what you mean." says Corey now seeming more reserved, distilling the rhetoric from his voice, sliding his back to being more hunched from straight.

"Well good, and don't worry about our ticket, you're still on. It's not as if I'll allow for his qualities to cloud your experience and more proven loyalty, yet. Now, rally Jacob and Schneider back to whatever campaign office we have closest to them, call Smith and Jones USA Corp. Get enough weapons and equipment for the both of them, they're going to war."

"One more question." Corey slips in.


"What happened to secrecy?"

"The opponent has chosen to hide in the shadows. Every minute we wait for him to announce a return to the public is another minute wasted. And the only thing I will accept being wasted at the end of the day is him." states Clay before motioning that Corey leave as he picks back up his phone and dial the hundredth number of the day from his phone book.

© Copyright 2018 A.J. Rimmer. All rights reserved.


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