Truth to Power
By Ana and Melvin Melons
2
“Exactly like that.” Mark shifted in his chair, leaning in closer. “My state counterparts are on the right track with lowering taxes for people like you and I. They’re also finally putting some sensible limits on this initiative-petition nonsense. You can’t have every half-baked idea somebody collects enough signatures for ending up in the constitution. That’s how you wind up with women’s bodily autonomy, a higher minimum wage, and decriminalized marijuana.” Mark spoke in a low breathy voice. He noticed his counterpart back away in disgust. Panic overwhelmed him and he moved back as well. He cocked his head to one side. “Is something wrong?”
The man backed away further. “I’m sorry, sir. Your breath…”
Mark covered his mouth in horror.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t mean to offend.” The man paused then seemingly decided not to continue.
Mark smiled and turned away. The pre-flight instruction started and before long they were in the air. Once the seat belt lights went off Mark bolted up and rushed to the lavatory. He closed the door behind himself and let out a breath he had been holding for quite a while.
The room quickly filled with a putrid stench and he immediately started brushing. Mark stared at himself in the mirror, remembering the details of his day, and how he’d wound up with such rancid breath.
Mark had jogged down the halls of the White House. They were expecting him and he was allowed right into the Oval Office. This happened every couple of years, it was time to come and show the president his loyalty.
He stepped through the threshold and was assaulted by bright lights reflecting off of everything in the room. Much like the president’s sham career as a businessman, the decorations and contents of the oval office were plated in gold and barely served a function. It was the most gaudy and ugly room that Mark had ever seen, not that he would ever say that aloud to the president for fear of the repercussions to his political career and reputation with his singularly devoted constituents. If he lost the presidents favor, he lost the confidence of his voters; it was as simple as that.
“Hello, Mr President.” Mark panted, catching his breath.
“It’s about time, Mark. I was going to get started without you.” The president sneered at him. As Mark made his way over to the president the difference in their heights became more and more apparent. Mark craned his neck back to look the president in the eye. If he stared straight ahead, he’d be looking right into the president’s swollen belly conveniently hidden inside of a generously over-sized suit.
“I got here as fast as I could, sir. I would have been here sooner, but the construction of your truly inspired and necessary ballroom slowed me down. I couldn’t help but stop and take it all in.” Mark groveled extending his hand to his superior.
1
Mark made his way to his seat at the front of the plane. He had already made a point to be seen waiting in the security line, so it was nice that he was able to skip ahead of the rest of the rabble and board first. He took his seat and stowed his bag away. It took up the whole space, which was good; nobody else would be crowding to get into his bin and he could be the first off the plane too.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a toothbrush and toothpaste. He slipped them into his front pocket, hoping to get to the restroom as soon as possible. He had tried to get it done in the terminal, but the lavatories were closed and he didn’t have time to check anywhere else.
More passengers were coming aboard and he took his seat. He would wait until the plane was in the air, then he could get into the restroom and take care of his hygiene needs.
As the coach passengers boarded, some of them were glancing at him. He kept his head down, not wanting to be recognized and interrogated. Mark adjusted the collar on his blazer to inconspicuously obscure his identity and bent over to work on his phone. He didn’t have long to learn his talking points, and he needed to focus.
As the crowd started to thin, a man peeled off from the pack and took the seat next to Mark. He was dressed well in a suit and tie, with a designer logo stitched into his socks. As the man settled in, he turned and took a closer look at his seat neighbor. “Oh, You’re my congressman. It’s Mark, right? I just saw that the president endorsed you. I’ll say that’s good enough for me.”
Mark turned on the charm. On the outside he was all smiles and eagerness, but on the inside he loathed that he couldn’t just relax during the flight. Still, this man was well dressed and the kind of constituent that Mark wanted to keep happy.
“I am, I’m happy to meet you. What’s your name?” Mark extended his arm.
The man leaned in and shook hands with the congressman. He said his name, but Mark didn’t recognize it as someone terribly important. “I think you’re doing a great job, sir. It’s a shame what happened with the amendments in the primary. I hope we find another way to get rid of the state income tax, this could really help people like you and I.”
Mark nodded. “The mistake they made was letting the peasants decide the outcome of complicated political ideas. If you open a space for them to think they will use their brains and realize that what you’re proposing isn’t as great for them as you might make it sound. You need something tempting because it is simple and emotionally satisfying.”
“You mean like ballot candy?” The constituent leaned in close to Mark.
3
The president eyed Mark’s hand then grasped it with a smile. He jerked the congressman forward with all the might he could muster. He clearly wanted to pull Mark off his feet and onto his knees, but the sundowning octogenarian couldn’t muster the strength. Regardless, Mark submitted, feigning that the president was a much stronger man than he actually was and prostrated himself before him.
The president can be very difficult to keep happy. At his advanced age he often forgot what he asked for ten minutes ago and may be angered at what his obedient supplicants had done by the time they completed the task he himself had requested of them. On top of that, the dementia addled statesman refused to take responsibility for anything that went wrong while taking credit for everything that went right. It wasn’t ideal, it meant that Mark and all of his compatriots in the party were always walking on eggshells in case the president got an errant hare up his ass that they were somehow disloyal. That’s why this loyalty ceremony was so important. It was Mark’s only real time to be alone with the president and garner his favor. Though this time, he wasn’t really alone.
The president walked away, heading to the other side of the gold-plated resolute desk. He signaled to his special assistant who was making copies in the corner. She grabbed a sheet from the copy tray and taped it to the gold leaf textured wall that read “Free Chip” in large gold lettering. The light-haired woman approached the decrepit despot and held his left hand. She was young, and attractive, as all the women around the president tended to be. She had a habit of printing out full-page copies of friendly commentary on the president which had led the rest of the cabinet to refer to her derisively as “The president’s fluffer,” behind her back. Still, she was good at keeping him happy, and it made all of their lives a little easier that she was around.
The old man put his free hand on the corner of the desk to help balance as he squatted down concealing himself as best he could. “Turn around Mark. This part isn’t for you to see.” The elderly man punctuated his sentence with the sound of loud, wet flatulence.
Mark turned around, correcting his red tie and clearing his throat nervously as the sounds of thick viscous excrement filling an adult diaper echoed endlessly around the taxpayer funded gold-plated abomination of an office.
“I love what you’ve done with this space, sir. Your interior decorating skills would have been so helpful back when I did real estate,” Mark lied.
“I need quiet, Mark.” The president hissed through gritted teeth. When the noises stopped Mark started to turn around but was quickly chastised again.
“Not yet,” The president warned. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”
Mark stared at the door, steeling his nerves for what he was about to do. As he waited, the sounds of excrement filling an adult diaper returned, then ceased. The loud squelching was replaced by the gentle snoring of the elderly man. He had fallen asleep.
4
Mark waited for Natalie to wake the president, but she didn’t. He could only guess that she was still there holding his hand waiting for him to wake back up.
The pause finally ended after what felt like an intolerably long time when the president woke himself with a snore. “Are you so bored that you fell asleep, Mark?” the president chided.
Mark knew better than to correct the octogenarian simpleton and quickly accepted the criticism. “Seeing the beauty of this office and your ballroom, I guess it was over stimulating.”
There was shuffling and a bit of struggled groaning as the old man climbed onto the desk. “Natalie, take my pants off for Mark.” There was the sound of a belt unbuckling and a zipper, then the soft rustling of the president’s oversized blue slacks sliding down his legs and falling to the floor. “I’m ready for you now.”
Mark turned around. Natalie had gone back to the side of the room where she was already making copies, and the president was on the desk lying on his back with his legs up in the air. His red, white, and blue diaper was so saturated that the stains were showing through the diaper’s star-spangled seat.
Mark walked up to the desk. He looked over at the assistant in the corner and then up at the president. She looked over and gave a knowing grin. Natalie grabbed a stool and brought it over, setting it up so that Mark could reach.
The congressman climbed up the step-ladder and rolled his shoulders to prepare for the loyalty ritual. He unclasped the diaper and pulled it away. A large chunk of excrement fell out and splattered on the floor.
“Mark, you need to save all of it. We have a fertilizer shortage because of the war.” The president leaned up and met his gaze.
Natalie approached with a bag held out ready for the diaper. Mark scooped the fallen lump off the carpet with the edge of the diaper and placed it in the bag. “No problem sir, I saved it all.”
The president laid back down. “It’s a little different from last time. Rick the brat, from one district over from you; Great guy, brilliant negotiator, just like myself. He really went above and beyond and set a new bar for what loyalty means. You know, Mark, for a Charlie brown look-alike, Rick the brat really is a very smart man; very smart, very loyal.”
“Oh?” Mark reached into the president’s diaper bag and pulled out a package of wet wipes.
5
“Stop, that’s what I’m trying to tell you.” The octogenarian swatted the box out of the congressman’s hand. “Rick didn’t even need to be asked, but he licked me clean and I loved it Mark; it really showed me what true loyalty is and I can’t be seen endorsing anyone but the truly loyal.”
Mark did his best to keep the horror he was feeling off his face. He looked down and away from his superior. He wanted to run from the room screaming, but he would be publicly castigated by the president if he did. “What a fabulous way to show our respect and devotion to you, sir.” Desperate not to show any hesitation, Mark leaned in and proved his loyalty.
He wanted to retch but concealed it as best he could. The odor was foul; like fermented chicken nuggets and fast-food burgers. It stung his nostrils if he breathed through his nose, and he felt like he might choke if he breathe through his mouth, so he held his breath. The taste was rancid and sulfurous. He was first assaulted by the sour and bitterness of the flavor, then an intensely earthy aftertaste clung in his mouth until he licked again and the process repeated. After each lick, Mark would spit the excrement into the plastic bag that Natalie was holding open next to him then return to his duty. When the president was clean, Mark straightened up and was immediately chastised.
“You may be done Mark, but I’m not finished yet.” The president’s tone was one of indignant privilege.
Mark realized that for the president, finished didn’t mean clean. He shrugged; the worst was over. Now he just needed to tough it out a little longer and the president’s endorsement was as good as his. When he had that, the sycophants would vote for him no matter what. There was nothing he could do to lose. Mark leaned back in and continued to lick the president’s balloon knot.
The elderly man let out a whimper and started dictating to his assistant. “Take this down. Congressman Mark is an America First Patriot, who is doing a fantastic job representing his district.” He moaned, and his body quivered. His voice cracked as he continued. “Mark has my complete and total endorsement for re-election. Mark isn’t afraid to get down into the mud and do the necessary dirty work. He will get to the bottom of any mess, and nobody will work harder to clean up Washington. HE WILL NEVER LET YOU DOWN!”
As Mark teased the president’s chocolate starfish the old man let out one last feeble moan before his body relaxed. Mark straightened up and stepped down the stool. He grabbed the president’s discarded pants and tossed them up onto the edge of the desk.
“I’m told you have a town hall tonight, Mark.” The president leaned up to look at him as he pulled out another diaper patterned like Old Glory and affixed it to the feeble Man.
“I do.” Mark kept his remarks brief; he was still on the verge of being sick.
6
“You just make sure not to take any shit from anyone. Especially those nasty women who like to yap yap yap. Women never have anything nice to say so you don’t have to be nice to them, Mark.” The president laid back down while the congressman slid on his pants; buckling them just under his ribs.
The president snored again, waking himself and chastising Mark once more. Again, Mark submitted to his superior.
Mark got down again and Natalie took the stool away before helping the president off of the desk. “Ok Mark, it’s time for you to go. I’ll see you in two years.”
Mark didn’t hesitate, he quickly excused himself and headed out of the whitehouse, across the plaza, and back to his office restroom where he promptly vomited in hopes that he wouldn’t get cyclosporiasis. As he wiped the mess from his lips there was a knock at the door. His driver had come inside to let him know if they didn’t leave now they wouldn’t make it to the airport in time. His luggage was already in the car waiting and they headed straight for the airport without a second to spare.
Mark shuddered at the horrifying memory and spit. A large bubbling white mass slowly slid down into the sink drain of the airplane lavatory. He rinsed his toothbrush and then returned to his seat. He stowed the hygiene products into his bag and took his seat again. His constituent in the seat next to him had fallen asleep or was convincingly faking slumber to avoid more awkwardness.
The congressman let out a sigh of relief and went back to his phone to study his talking points before the town hall this evening. He had recently helped pass through some legislation that had caused a lot of people to lose their jobs, and he was anticipating there might be a lot of angry people. Even if things went badly, he would just say that they were part of an organized smear campaign from out of state actors. His people would believe anything he told them to believe so there really wasn’t any substantial threat to his power.
When the plane landed, Mark was quick to get to his feet. He pulled down his bag and made it to the front of the aisle. As soon as the door was open, he rushed off the plane and down the jetway. He met his other driver in the terminal, and they quickly made their way to the waiting vehicle. Mark tried to relax on the road, ignoring most of the small talk from his driver until they arrived at the community center where they were holding the town hall.
They drove down around the building and Mark looked out the window seeing the line of people waiting to ask questions was wrapped around the street.
“That’s ominous,” The driver said.
Mark tried to sound confident, but inside he was freaking out. “Looks like I have a lot of support.”
7
The driver hummed dismissively. The vehicle pulled around the back of the building and up to the rear entrance. Mark got out and leaned back in to give his driver one last instruction, “Keep it running.” He closed the door and headed inside.
He stepped into a large room with chairs set up. The house was packed, every seat was occupied and the rest of the space was filled with a crowd of angry people. There was a microphone at the front of the room, where a line had formed of people who wanted to ask questions. It had been a long day, and the congressman wasn’t about to be here all night long. He was committed to disappointing a lot of these people who weren’t going to vote for him anyway and then moving on with his life without ever thinking about them again.
As soon as the audience noticed him in the room they erupted with boos. Mark stepped up to the podium with a practiced smile. He climbed up onto a wooden box so he could see over the top, cleared his throat, and checked the microphone before he spoke. “Well, we know where all the paid agitators are.” The jeers got louder, drowning out his voice even as it was amplified through the speakers.
“You suck, Mark.” Someone yelled.
Mark raised his arms and continued. “As you all know, the president has endorsed me for congress, because together we have done great things for America, and for my district.” He shouted over the noise ignoring the anger of the crowd. “We have made your prescription drugs cheaper, invested in American farmers, and made this the safest the nation has ever been.”
All the chairs in the room were suddenly empty as everyone jumped to their feet in a rage. The first person at the microphone leaned in and started to speak. She was a tall woman with blonde hair. She was wearing a white blouse and black blazer with a pair of slacks. She looked fairly professional, except for the lack of designer labels on her clothing. Mark thought about how beautiful she would have been if she had a smile on her face.
“That may be true, but I have a longer memory than your average supporter and I remember that you voted against that legislation. Not only that, but you also voted for the legislation that caused my insurance costs to explode while my coverage plummeted. How can you try to stand up here and take credit for legislation you called dangerous socialism and distancing yourself from legislation that you said was to ensure that nobody got medical care that they don’t deserve?” The audience cheered as the woman asked her question.
Mark wasn’t used to people standing up to him or pointing out when he was lying. He channeled the president’s advice and went on the attack. “What a nasty and unfair question. I won’t even dignify it with a response.
The woman didn’t miss a beat and leaned back into the mic. “I don’t think anyone here expected you to. But why stop there? You said you invested in farmers, but really you bailed them out with our money because they were drowning in the president’s tariffs that you refused to even consider stopping.” She flipped her hair and the room erupted in applause.
8
The congressman scoffed and started to defend himself, but the woman wasn’t done yet. “As far as your statement on safety goes, you started a big expensive war because the president is afraid of us finding out what he did to all those women.”
Mark signaled to the police officer in the corner. “You’re not even asking questions at this point. Please escort her out of the building.”
The crowd erupted in jeers again as the officer dragged the woman from the room. “You’re a fucking joke, Mark” she screamed as an officer jerked her away from the microphone and pushed her outside.
The man at the other microphone across the room picked it up and started to walk about with it. He looked like Jesus; long-haired, bearded, and most importantly a blue-eyed white man. He was wearing a purple shirt with a vulgar drawing of the president lying down with a soiled diaper. Mark was shocked at how accurate to reality the depiction was, right down to the stretch marks on the thighs and belly.
“What’s the President’s safe word?” He asked with a knowing cheeky smile. The peasants laughed and the man continued his comedy routine. “Is the president’s diaper as smelly as the legends say?”
“Sir I will not…” Mark started but the man spoke over him.
“When the president tells you to fuck us over, do you bother to stand up for us, or do you just bend over and take it like the obsequious wimp you are?” The constituency erupted in laughter again. “Does the president even pay for your ride home or do you do the walk of shame? I know I’m supposed to only ask one question, but since you don’t answer them I’ll keep asking them until you throw me out like you did my wife.”
Mark gestured for the officers again and they moved to stop the man. “Are you afraid that your supporters will learn to read and abandon you?”
Even Mark laughed at that one, “No, that doesn’t scare me at all because they would only read what I tell them to.” Mark knew he shouldn’t have said that, but clearly none of his people were here to hear it and who else would they vote for anyway. His district was specifically designed to keep him in power.
The man dropped the microphone when the officer grabbed him by the arm, jerked him away, and dragged him toward the door. He shouted now, loud enough that everyone in the room could hear. “I still have 25 minutes of material left for you, Mark. I thought you believed in freedom of speech! I have questions about the presidential nussy; when you pull the neck labia apart how deep is it? When you fill it up does the president finally stop talking?” He reached out and grabbed the door trim, resisting the officer with non-violence. “Maybe that’s not a good question for you. You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who ever encountered the concept of bottoming out.”
9
The officer, poorly trained and insufficiently equipped to handle any problem without the use of violence, struck the man on the arms until he lost his grip and he was able to pull him out of the room.
“Vive la résistance, Mark,” the man called as he and the officer disappeared into the dark night.
The audience cheered for the man and his wife chanting “Ana, Melvin. Ana, Melvin,” until the next man stepped up to the mic. “How many of the 34,000 government workers in the city do intend to fire, Mark?”
Mark scoffed, he’d had enough of this. It was time to end this event and any more like it, forever. “Just because you have a government job doesn’t mean it’s a lifetime appointment, like a Supreme Court justice. The president and I have created enough jobs that there will be others available to you. God has a plan for your life. You are not a victim; you are a vicTOR.” He emphasized the second half of the word.
The crowd became enraged at his platitude.
“That will be all the questions for the night.” The congressman didn’t hesitate. He fled for the rear exit door and dove into the back of his driver’s car.
“Get me home before these evil people get their hands on me.”
“Yes sir.” The driver said, backing out to the street and driving away.
Mark spent the ride time decompressing in silence. Those people showed him no respect. They spoke to him like he was common rabble and questioned his actions as their superior.
When Mark was dropped off at his million-dollar lake house he waved goodbye to his driver. “I’m headed back to the airport in the morning. Don’t be late.”
The two-story 5-bedroom waterfront home where his wife lived alone most of the time was dark; she hadn’t waited up to see him. Mark climbed the stairs and found his wife was asleep in her bedroom.
The congressman continued down the hall to his own room, set his phone on the charger, disrobed, and laid in the dark. He couldn’t sleep. He wondered to himself if the president knew what happened tonight, hopefully he’d put up enough of a fight to impress him. There would be bad press about this, but all that really mattered was what the president thought of him. Panic started to set in as he worried that the president’s favorite news organization, Patriot Universal Power and Prestige Entertainment Television might pick up the story. If they mocked him on P.U.P.P.E.T. News the president would surely see it first thing in the morning.
10
He picked up his phone and text his friend at the network, Jessup Watterson. He quickly got a voice message back.
It was hard to make out the news anchors voice from the loud party in the background and the exclusively male voices celebrating but he was able to decipher the most important part. “Nothing that happens in your district is national news…” and “The president and his supporters don’t care about your small-town horse shit, Mark.”
The congressman let out a sigh of relief. Jessup always knew how to calm him down. Sleep came easy now, he was safe from consequences. He felt silly that he had ever doubted that his power was secure.