Brad stood next to the lectern. Brad wore a blue suit with an American flag pin on the label. Brad had been to the gym that morning and lifted. Brad remembered being a magician when he was young. Brad owned a keychain with a miniature figure of a sailor who resembled but was not Popeye. Brad had a cold coming on and his nose was red. Brad had burned his way through two marriages to women who could have loved him had he not treated them poorly. Brad had one bad ear. Brad had a habit of being hilarious. Brad was running for office. Brad took questions. “Do you know how qualified you are?” said a man named Bob. Brad was Bob. The room was empty. Brad felt foolish. The air turned icy. Brad, who had come to practice for later, felt his knees buckle, felt himself falling, narrowly missed the lectern, hit the floor, clutching his head, his head which suddenly felt split in half, heard himself screaming, screaming how much he loved America, screaming that he hoped he would stay alive long enough to vote for himself.
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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