Friday, October 10, 2008

Episode 36 -- The Great Excommunicator

Alberto Potter was the chosen one, from Marta Teufel's perspective. Many viewed him as a vacuous politician, but he was also conniving. When he was Deputy Sheriff, he resigned from his post and then -- as the song says -- "shot the sheriff." No one ever suspected that he was behind the sheriff's untimely demise, and Alberto silently chuckled to himself every time the office of sheriff was mentioned. "Everybody loves Alberto," they would say -- and they still said that now.

Potter glad-handed everyone with whom he came into contact, usually saying something to them like, "What do you think we should do? ... Why, that's exactly what I want to do!" Then he would walk away, calling the people idiots under his breath. Potter was a man of opportunities who liked getting what he wanted and who enjoyed the false praise of toadies. He and Marta Teufel fit together perfectly.

Although the Obese American was aware of such people, he wanted eagerly to believe that they did not exist. His was a patriotic world of apple pie, free market economics, and justice for all. Unbeknownst to our hero, his world and the seedy underbelly of Lost Wages were about to collide.

Alberto Potter stood on a corner, shamelessly proclaiming to others how wonderful he was. He also picked the occasional pocket when the opportunity presented itself. When a wimpy individual said to him, "I will gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today," Potter flim-flammed the man into believing that not only was it Tuesday but also that the man owed him a considerable fortune. The man staggered away -- $200 poorer and no wiser. With so many rumors spreading about his opponents, in two weeks Potter went from being a Dark Horse candidate to being the clear front-runner in the mayoral race.

It was then that the strangest thing occurred. A boy -- or a man of barely eighteen years -- meandered through the crowd in the general direction of the gentle Alberto. The boy was wearing tattered jeans, flip-flops, and a brand new T-Shirt proclaiming the slogan, "Fork Potter!" Emblazoned under the slogan was a cartoon of Alberto Potter being jabbed in the rump by a giant pitchfork.

Suddenly, in front of a crowd of hundreds, Potter went ballistic. From his pocket he extracted a convenient roll of duct tape. Then he siezed the boy, threw him to the ground, and taped up his mouth. A moment later, he ripped the t-shirt from the boy's chest and set it on fire. "No one may be allowed to say such things," Potter said -- loud enough for the press to hear. After threatening lawsuits against the boy, Potter snapped back into character and resumed his previous baby-kissing and hand-shaking. Seconds after his face had gone red with anger, the traditional Alberto Smile again spread across that face. This time, though, the people were suitably unimpressed. As rapidly as had been his rise to stardom, Alberto Potter was now out of the running for the mayor's office.

Meanwhile, the boy wandered off in amazement. After losing the crowd, he looked around him, entering a parking garage. Normally, this garage was subject to video recording; strangely, the recording devices were "off" at the moment. The boy walked over to a corner pillar and leaned against it. Around the corner, leaning against the same pillar, was a shadowy figure. The boy said, "It was even better than you expected." The figure tossed down a suitcase, and the boy picked it up. The boy strode off, delighted to see so much cash.

As the figure moved toward his own vehicle, his shadow acquired the odd appearance of having a long tail. This, accompanied by the figure's chattering like a monkey, might have given a passerby the impression that the boy had been paid off by a monkey. Yet no one was nearby; not even a cockroach was witness as the figure entered his black car and drove farther and farther away until only the license plate was visible from the garage. From a distance, one could simply read, "CHEETAH."

NEXT: All the Money's Gone

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