A Senatorial Conversation: Part II
Author’s Note: This may be real, or it may be satire. The reader is free to decide for themselves. Be informed and beware.
A: I’ll come to your place next time. How is [C] doing anyway?
R: He’s fine… I can’t with this song.
A: I hate to see you suffer.
R: Fuck you. This song is terrible.
A: I don’t disagree.
R: They can’t do this to decent people damn it. What were we talking about?
A: The Senator’s office. What…
R: Oh. Yeah. So, I go in there to discuss this charity event in town with him. See if he would make an appearance. I can’t stand the guy but other people around there support him so I thought what the hell, if he’s gonna be there maybe more people will show up right?
A: Or less.
R: So I go to his office. I’m in the reception area and a door swings open. It’s him, in person and I’ve never seen him in person before so I’m a little weirded out already.
A: Did he look normal? Was the chicken present?
R: He was wearing tan Carhartt pants like those proud boy shitheads wear and a red flannel shirt. He just looked like a country boy, which is weird for a Senator in his office but it’s Wisconsin so, ok. When I walked through the door into his office that’s when the smell hit me.
A: Of course there’s a smell. That son of a bitch, there’d have to be a smell.
R: I go in there, he closes the door behind me and walks over to stand behind his desk and the smell. Jesus. Like a piece of raw meat that sat out too long. Sour and bloody, you know?
A: Like you thawed a steak but didn’t eat it and forgot it in your refrigerator for a few days.
R: Exactly. And as I’m looking around, I see all these stuffed animals.
A: He has plushies in his office? What a fucking asshole.
R: No like, taxidermy. Stuffed and mounted animals. Done really poorly too. Like those bad taxidermy memes.
A: Did he stuff them?
R: Apparently so. And there’s a furry pile on his desk. A total mess. I couldn’t make it out at first.
A: Of course he’d have a dead animal on his desk. God damn him.
R: It wasn’t a legit dead carcass, exactly. He noticed me staring at it and said “Oh, you like my hat?”
A: Hat.
R: Yeah, and he’s way too proud of it. He picks it up puts it on his head, and says “I made it myself”. Grins real big like he expects me to compliment the ghoulish thing.
A: Like a raccoon hat?
R: More like roadkill that he emptied the guts out of, mummified, then stretched over his head.
A: No…
R: Yeah. It wasn’t skin fashioned into a hat. It was an animal that he ripped open, gutted, and made a hole in for his head. The face and legs and all were still on it. It might have been a raccoon or a badger…
A: God help us…
R: He’s standing there staring at me, in this horrific hat, and he actually has the nerve to say “You’re quite striking”. We haven’t even started a real conversation and he’s trying to come at me like that.
A: Did you strike him?
R: No. I was too surprised. But I should have.
A: Did he ask if you wanted to “hashtag Eff Arr Jay”?
R: Foul.