Agent of Chaos
Rick Santorum, wearing an azure sweater-vest, sat down on his pyrite throne, clasped his hands together, and grinned. There was nothing the world could do to stop him from having the best day he would ever have, and everything about that made him giddy. As he picked up a slice of apple pie with his hands and shoved it into his mouth, he felt like doing nothing more than laughing. He didn’t, of course, because then he would have choked, but it took a great effort to avoid cackling. Once he swallowed the pie, he wiped his mouth with an American flag-patterned handkerchief and turned on the television in front of him.
On the screen was a local news station, interviewing the common people. Rick chortled at those with no influence over anyone’s lives but their own, or maybe their families if they were lucky. He couldn’t comprehend what the anchor was actually saying in his sing-songy newscaster inflection, but it didn’t matter to Rick. Rather, it was an opportunity for madness that had just presented itself, and he would do no less than seize it like the police would a kilogram of crack cocaine in the trunk of the Minority Whip’s car (AKA the Minority Whip).
The woman being interviewed currently seemed like a good target. Her hair was straight out of 1987, like the mom from Troll 2, and she looked to be exactly the type of woman who would share image macros of Obama caricatures on her Facebook. Rick teleported himself behind her, and let the camera capture his elegant, yet rugged, visage. She continued to prattle on as if her words meant anything in the grand scheme of existence, but Rick merely had to gaze into the camera for a moment, and she quickly realized he was there.
It became clear within seconds that the cameraman, reporter, and interviewee woman were within the grasp of Rick’s attention. Not that he imagined the situation going otherwise, of course. “Oh, hi,” Rick said with that cheeky smile that only barely held the humor in his eyes at bay. “What are you guys doing here? Filming a show?” The cameraman nodded and Rick feigned shock. “Oh my, I’m so sorry. Just passing through. Carry on!”
He pretended to start walking away from the camera, before the reporter motioned for him to stop. She gestured the interviewee away and Rick stepped up to the camera. “Sir, Mr. Santorum,” she said. “We were just talking about education cuts in local schools. Do you care to comment?”
“Of course I do,” Rick said. “Education is one of the most important things in the upcoming election, you know.” He could barely contain the laughter that threatened to explode within him.
“Yes, and what do you have to say about education?” The earnestness of this reporter, trying as hard as she could to give a noteworthy interview and catapult her into something other than the dead-end local career she currently had, would be almost funny, if it were not so sad.
“Education cuts are what I’m for,” he began. “The federal government has too much control over education, yeah, but you know what the other candidates are too scared to talk about? That the state government is just as bad.” The snowball began to pick up speed. “We need our communities to realize that a city-first approach to teaching is the only way to succeed in America, and it’s the only way to balance the budget back in Washington.”
The reporter was taken aback at Rick’s statement to the point that she had trouble forming a response. He could not see any visible anger on her face; if there was any emotion in her, it was hidden behind a look of pure shock. Before she could say anything, he continued. “I mean, we know those liberals working in the textbook industry just want to brainwash our kids to think that we should accept China as our rulers, or that there’s a hundred and eighteen elements– a hundred and eighteen!” He paused for a brief moment for emphasis. “Golly, back when I was in school, four elements was all we needed.” The reporter and cameraman exchanged quick glances, but that did nothing to stop Rick. “And this whole evolution business; humans from monkeys? As if. Anyone who insists anything other than that monkeys are evolved humans is, frankly, a loon.”
“This is all to say, if those bright blue havens in the cities want to teach that sex is illegal after you’re married, then go ahead. But I won’t let my cities, here in small-town, real-life, God-forsaken America, bear the brunt of our educational decay, and that is why education cuts are for the best.”
Rick willed himself out of existence and appeared back on his throne. Before the camera cut back to the anchors, he saw the look of perplexment on the reporter’s face, staring at the cameraman offscreen.
It really was the best day of his life, he thought.
But his smile faded when the television cut away from the reporter, and the station’s anchor looked straight out of the camera. Below him was a tag reading “Breaking News.” Beside that read none other than: “The Donald Declares Preemptive War on Estonia.” The anchor read off a report suggesting that The Donald would attack the nation of Estonia the day he was elected into office. Rick clapped at the screen to turn it off– but nothing happened, and the television continued to blare.
Instead of trying to turn it off, he warped into the news station’s studio, just behind the camera. He waved his hands to alert everyone to his presence, but the anchor prattled on regardless. It was like he was invisible. Why couldn’t he change anything? Where was his power of chaos?
He tried to listen to the anchor to figure out what was wrong. “So now,” the anchor said. “We’re going to discuss The Donald’s new stance. We’ve called in presidential candidates Mike Huckabee and Ben Carson to give their opinions on the matter.” Both Huckabee and Carson walked in, and walked by Rick as if he was an intern fetching the anchor’s coffee. “Gentlemen, how are you both?”
But rather than responding, the two men turned around to stare at Rick. They knew he was there all along. Their looks lasted only for a second, but he felt a flash of pain–
And was back on his pyrite throne.
Rick was an agent of chaos, always had been. But in this era, he no longer reigned supreme. All he could do was sit back and watch as he faded away in the face of the men whose faces shone brighter than his.