Today, we’re posting Home Clipart Animal Deer’s very first Guest Post; our friend Ktalaki has written a President story for Governor Chris Christie, and we’re happy to have it on this site. Enjoy:
The Chris Christie Bridge
“Hey you!” a professionally suited businessman said, getting the attention of Chris Christie as he rolled down the sidewalk on his Segway i2 SE. The man was holding a heavy briefcase, so Christie could tell he was a genuine professional. “You look like a man of great taste. I think I’ve got an offer just for you.”
It was true; Chris Christie was a man of excellent taste. He especially loved the fine delicacies at Wegmans markets, often making several trips in one day. “What kind of offer?” Christie asked.
“I’m glad you asked, my friend! You see that bridge behind us?” the man said, pointing.
“The George Washington Bridge? What about it?” Christie asked.
“Well, I happen to be the owner of that bridge. And today’s your lucky day, because I’m looking for someone to sell it to!”
“Wow!” Chris Christie exclaimed. “You’re George Washington?”
“…Yes!” the businessman replied. “The one and only!”
Amazing! It wasn’t every day that the real estate deal of the century fell into your lap like this. And to have it given by George Washington himself! Such a famous icon! For what though, Christie didn’t know. For a second, he wished he had paid more attention in school, so he’d have a better idea of what to say now to get on George’s good side.
“I can’t believe it! Mr. Washington himself!” Christie shook his hand. “I’ve been a huge fan of you since I was a child. Your great accomplishments mean so much to me, especially, uh, your…”
“Yes! That’s exactly it!” Nailed it, Christie’s mind echoed. “And you want to sell me your one and only bridge?”
“That’s exactly right,” the man said.
“Wow!” Chris Christie exclaimed. It wasn’t every day that the real estate deal of the century fell into your lap like this. “How much are you selling it for?”
“Today’s your lucky day, friend. Because I’m selling it for only three hundred thousand dollars!”
“I’ll take it,” Christie said, and in a motion so swift that normal human eyes could not see it, Christie had a signed check for $300,000 ready in his hand. “Should I make it out to George Washington?”
“Write it to Hugh Addonizio. He’s my accountant.”
“Okay.” And with that, Chris Christie handed him the check for $300,000. “Now what?”
“That’s it!” the man said. “Now, it’s all yours!”
His face beaming, Christie thanked the man for his wonderful generosity, and vowed to be the best bridge owner he could be. The man shook Christie’s hand again, and walked away, breaking into a run ten seconds later. Christie assumed he had very important presidential matters to attend to.
Christie gazed over his beautiful bridge. It was all his now! He could do whatever he wanted with it! But he knew exactly what he was going to do. Looking at this great big beautiful bridge, Christie realized he had found something he had been missing his entire life. He had found a home.
Getting back onto his Segway, Christie rolled out into the middle of the street and down the road leading to the bridge. He rolled through the toll booth, ignoring the angry shouts of people claiming he didn’t pay. Idiots, he just paid the President himself! He drove out onto the middle of the bridge, and he stopped right there. He took in a deep breath of the fresh NJ-NY border air. “It’s all mine,” he said to no one.
Cars behind him were honking now. Apparently they didn’t get the memo that this wasn’t their bridge anymore. Anger rising, Christie rolled back to the car behind him and waited for the driver to pull his window down. “What the hell are you doing, man?” the driver said.
What nerve! “Excuse me, sir, but I am the owner of this bridge, and you are trespassing on my property.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I am the owner of this bridge,” Christie repeated. “Get out of my house or I will call the police.”
“You’re crazy,” the driver said, and he drove away before Christie had a chance to take his license plate number.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step off the Segway,” the officer said.
“This is my home! I live here!” Christie shouted, but to no avail, just as he’d been doing to everyone for the last several hours.
Traffic had been closed on both sides of the bridge for days now, and Chris Christie was using the peace and quiet to get a jump on building his new house. A log cabin, he had decided—he was a fan of the old fashioned American work ethic, of building things yourself. So, he was personally supervising a crew of fifty laborers moving construction materials to the center of the bridge.
“I’m not going to ask you again, sir. Step off the Segway before anybody gets hurt.”
“But this is my property! I bought it directly from Mr. Washington himself.”
“This isn’t George Washington’s bridge,” the cop said.
“Of course it isn’t,” Christie said. “Because he sold it to me.”
Chris Christie was very sad. The police had served him an eviction notice the previous night, and since then he had been hiding out on the land under the bridge, wondering how everything went wrong. It was probably Obama’s fault, he decided after a few seconds, and he spent the rest of the time sleeping and having terrible dreams about all the people driving through his living room. He woke up drenched in sweat, with a hideous, disfigured face staring at him.
“Hello there,” the mysterious fellow said.
“What are you doing here?” Chris Christie asked him.
“I live under this bridge. I’m a troll.”
“Oh. I used to live on the bridge itself,” Christie said.
“That must have been exciting,” the troll said.
“They were the best days of my life.” Christie sighed. “I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought I was right where I belonged. I thought… I thought I was making a difference, you know? I was doing what everybody wanted of me. What everybody expected of me. But in the end, no one even cared. Most people will go on with their lives not even realizing I’m the new owner of the bridge. All they care about is that the bridge is there, and it’s theirs for the taking, whether they have any right to it or not.”
“Sounds like you have issues, pal,” the troll said.
“Maybe I do. Tell me, have you ever heard of George Washington?”
“Yes, of course I have.”
“Well, I hate him,” Christie said. “Ever since I met him, people have been giving me nothing but a hard time. So what if he’s President? I bet he’s not even that good of a President! In fact, I bet I could be twice the President that he ever was!” A flame of an idea erupted in Chris Christie’s mind. “That’s it! If I become the President, I can show everyone just how terrible George Washington is! And instead of owning one measly bridge, I’ll own fifty states full of bridges! Thanks, Mr. Troll. You’ve shown me the way!”
“My name is Kanye West. And you’re welcome.”