Election Night III

As election night wore on, Bubba drank, Okra burned and no matter how hard he tried, Rack could stop grinning, which only made matters worse. What a turnaround from the election night two years earlier they had shared together.“Well Okra, cheer up, it’s not the end of your American Taliban Movement, this is just a referendum on the worst President in American history. I am sure it will pass and soon we will have all you women in Burkas tongue yodeling.”

“George Bush went to Yale! Has an MBA! He is smart and one of your best Presidents!” Okra screeched.

“Yeah, Blue Blood Affirmative Action! Okay then, name me a President worse than George Bush?”

Okra began to turn purple ignoring the question. She looked to the television hoping against hope that Jim Talent in Missouri would pull it out.

“You know Okra, if Talent loses this one, which seems likely, it’s completely on the shoulders of Rush Limbaugh. His shameless treatment of Michael J. Fox was the dynamic of that election.”

“Michael J. Fox is a liberal who Rush proved faked his disease!”

“Gee… In fact my dear, if the Senate goes to the Democrats, it can be truthfully stated that Limbaugh lost the Senate.”

“Warren Harding!” Okra shouted ignoring the question at hand in lieu of the question ignored earlier.

“Damn Okra, you are playing right into his hands.” Bubba scolded from the pinball machine.

“So, you have to go back 85 years to find a president worse than George, and only one at that. You may be right Okra, and if so, guess what?”

“What?”

“You just rated President Bush as the second worst President in history. And I agree.”

“Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou!” Okra finally transformed into deep purple and rolled off into the starry night.

“So Bubba, looks like when we wake up in the morning we are going to have a House and Senate controlled by Democrats, hey?”

“So it seems Rack, but with all the corruption and gay sex, the GOP needs a time out to gather its forces and get back to its conservative ideals.”

“What in the Hell does gay sex have to do with anything Bubba?”

“The sanctity of marriage.”

“For Christ sake Bubba,” Rack looked around to make sure Okra was gone before he added, “You are divorced twice Bubba! And I covered your ass for two years while you fooled around on Mary Lou!”

“Special Rights! Queers should not have Special Rights!”

“Name one of these so called ‘special rights’ gays have or want.”

“To marry each other and be teachers!”

“Nothing ‘special’ about either of those Bubba, name me a real ‘special right’ gays want that you don’t have.”

“It’s unnatural!”

“Scooter! Your damn dog humps every male dog he can get his paws around!”

“God Says!” Bubba knew he was running out of bad arguments to justify is innate bigotry.

“I know you don’t give one hoot in Hell about the Bible Bubba. You are out of arguments. It’s a simple matter. You and yours are driven by emotional or religious intolerance, while me and mine have constitutional law on our side. The writings on the wall.”

Bubba gave up. He finished off his beer, accepted the Republican defeat, walked off the deck and sighed, “I wonder if my taxes went up yet?”