The Bill

The crowd was small but enthusiastic. They barely filled a quarter of the space allotted in the corner of the park.

Despite the disappointing turnout, the congressman would address them using the bullhorn. It was a calculated part of the quaint motif. For the same reason, a stage or other platform was eschewed in favor of a step-stool, which now seemed more than adequate in any case.

He had been in Washington until late the previous night. His flight left at 2:00 AM. He had been awake for nearly thirty straight hours. He was exhausted.

He looked about at the crowd as an assistant whispered in his ear. There were about forty or so. They were mostly middle-aged men and women. A few were elderly. Many carried homemade signs opposing government spending and gun laws.

“Let's do this.” And with that his assistant introduced him to light applause.

There had been a heavy rain overnight, and the ground was soft and wet. As the congressman stepped up on first rung the stool gave a bit, the front legs sinking into the ground. He steadied himself, lifted the bullhorn to his face with his left hand, and pulled the “speak” trigger.

“First of all, I want to thank everyone for coming. Your being here at this early hour shows your dedication to democracy and to your country”. There were a few cheers, and many expressionless stares. “And your election of me in the last three elections shows your good taste”

He pulled the bullhorn away from his face and waited for a laugh that did not come. He continued. “Seriously though, the people of this district are the greatest. The other congressmen are actually quite jealous of me.” This time, he correctly anticipated there would be no laugh.

Someone yelled “What about the bill?!” Others voiced their agreement. “Yeah! What about it?!” He turned and saw a bearded man carrying a sign in which the president was drawn to look like a Roman centurion laying the whip to a slave.

“Buddy, I'm glad you brought that up. First of all, let me assure all of you, that this bill will not pass without a fight!” His voice rose as he threw his right fist in the air. As his weight shifted, the stool moved under him and and sank further into the ground. The congressman lost his balance and fell face forward into the mud.

His assistant rushed forward and grabbed his right arm near the shoulder, helping to pull him up. “Sir, are you okay?”

The congressman rose to his knees. The right side of his face and the entire front of his body was covered in the wet, brown mud. He quickly wiped his face, to little effect. “Get me the fuck out of here”.