Mad Kasix: Cruzy Road
Kasix stood over the cliff overlooking the large expanse of sand and wasteland surrounding the entire land. This land used to be the great state of Utah, but after the primaries… It looked exactly the same. But that was beside the point, because Utah reminded Kasix of nothing but the brutality and disgusting destruction of the past twelve months of this Presidential Election…
His mind flashed back; he saw images of fire and blood. This was his world now. His friends were all dead and gone. His wife and daughters– back in Ohio, resting, but again, that was beside the point.
The ghostly form of Lindsey Graham appeared before him, laughing. “You couldn’t save me!” he cackled. “It was all your fault!”
Linds was soon joined by visions of Jeb!, of Rick, and the other Rick… Bobby and Carly… They tormented him and swirled around him. He wasn’t sure if he was the crazy one, or if it was everyone else, and it was torture.
Suddenly, he heard a faint whirring sound in the distance. He instantly recognized what it was. It began to gain in sound and power, and Kasix ran off as quickly as he could. He had to escape, to survive– it was the only thing left that he was good at.
But he was an out-of-shape middle-aged man and could not outrun the souped-up car that was chasing him down, and a giant net swooped out from the car and ensnared him almost immediately. The car slowed down and stopped, and several figures, all with pale skin and bright red hats, stepped out to grab Kasix.
“Score one for the Greatboys!” One of them shouted in a strangely-Australian accent.
They picked him up and tossed him in the trunk. The car began to move again. Wherever they were taking him, Kasix had no idea…
The ruins of Yuma, Arizona.
Well, it was about normal. Which still made it a ruins, but still.
The masses, thirsty and overheated, huddled up to the large skyscraper sticking out in the middle of town: the relocated Trump Tower.
On a helicopter platform sticking out of the tower, several larger-than-life men walked out. The main man, orange-haired Immortan Don, leader of Yuma and the famed God of the Republika, led the group, while his two sons Ben Cardrive and Chris Chanister stood behind him. In the back were a group of redhats, the Greatboys who served Immortan Don with the full value of their lives.
Immortan Don looked down at the sea of people and grinned from ear to ear. He raised his hands and listened to the drowning sounds of cheers.
He began to speak: “Listen, people of America! For too long we have been a weak, weak nation! We no longer win! We are losers!” The masses booed loudly in a harmonious buzz of anger. “But America will become great once again!” The boos were replaced by cheers. “I am your redeemer! It is by my hand you will rise from the ashes of America!”
Immortan Don pointed to the eighteen-wheeler idling by the road. “Once again, we send off the Vote Rig, to bring back delegates from Utah! Once again, I salute Solicitor Cruz on his journey to help us bring back the greatness of America!”
Solicitor Cruz gave a thumbs up from the window of his truck, and then pulled the stick. The Vote Rig pulled out and began to drive away.
“And he is off!”
The truck sped off, and then got to the first intersection away from Trump Tower.
And then it turned right instead of left.
Where was he going?
Solicitor Cruz held down his boot on the accelerator and broke many traffic laws, speeding past a yield sign without even looking to see if anyone else was coming.
He had to get as far away from Trump Tower as possible.
Suddenly, Cruz felt a tap at his shoulder. He turned his head and saw an old white man in a cyan shirt. “Are we out of the tower yet?” He asked.
“Yes, we are,” Cruz told the middle-income, blue-collar worker. “Your delegate is safe with me as soon as we get back to the RNC headquarters.”
And they would be there soon.
Kasix was still in the trunk of the car, driving down a very badly-made road apparently, because it was extremely bumpy. He had gotten the net off of him, but he couldn’t escape the trunk.
However, he could hear the Greatboys talking. They were mostly silent, but they occasionally shouted chants about making America great again and ascending shiny and clean onto a spot atop the Wall when they died. That meant that they were most definitely working for Immortan Don, and he needed to escape, and fast. Otherwise, he’d end up just like poor Scott Walker…
He tried tapping on the back of the trunk and getting their attention. “Hey, uh, Greatboys?” He asked. “Do any of you mind telling me where we’re going?”
“Do you guys want me to join Immortan Don? I’d be sure as pie up for that.”
“Are you serious about that?” one of them asked.
The Greatboys were silent for a few moments, until one of them spoke, saying, “Okay. We have an extra hat in the backseat. If you want, we’ll pull over and–”
A phone rang. “Hello?” one of the Greatboys asked. “What’s that? Coming here? Alright, Immortan Don! C’mon, boys, we’ve got a Vote Rig to chase down!”
“Don’t mind us, Kasix Columbatansky. We’re just taking a–” the car swerved and made a sharp U-turn. “–bit of a detour!”
“How close are we?” one of the blue-collared workers asked from the backseat.
“Just shut up and let me drive!” Cruz shouted. “I have to focus!” Cruz looked at the rear mirror and saw three hundred cars, trucks, mobile platforms, and other vehicles chasing down the Vote Rig, firing their open-carry-approved semi-automatic weapons in a frenzy. It’s lucky Cruz had this baby plate-armored to reflect just about anything except for–”
“RPG! EVERYONE DUCK!” A missile hit the Vote Rig and sent the entire thing flying several feet into the air. It crashed back down with a thud and continued moving, but the delegates in the backseat were clearly very worried.
“Are you sure we–”
“Shut it! We’re almost there. I can feel it.”
“Where are we going?”
Cruz was a man of few words, but these delegates just kept on making him talk. It was annoying, but he did it. He turned around and began to lecture them. “We’re going to the RNC. They can help all of us escape from Immortan Don. We’ll be safe. It’s just a matter of–”
“Uh, Solicitor Cruz?”
Cruz turned back around and saw the car speeding directly towards the Vote Rig in a maniacal game of chicken. Not being a complete idiot, Cruz swerved out of the way before the car rammed into him. But as he did that, several men jumped out of the car and latched onto the Vote Rig. He saw them through the rear-view mirror– they were grappling on and trying to get up to the front seat so they could kill him and stop the truck. He drove in a zig-zaggy pattern to try and shake them off, and a couple did fall, but two of them remained on. One of them was a classic Greatboy wearing his redhat with the cap turned sideways, but the other… he looked different.
The men had reached the top of the truck and were going to swing in at any moment. Cruz handed one of the delegates a shotgun. “Take this,” he said.
“I don’t know how to shoot.”
Cruz sighed. “Just whack them on the head with it, then.”
Immortan Don’s fleet of cars was quickly catching up on them. The Vote Rig needed some power and fast. He reached over to the NOS can to twist it open and speed up the car dramatically– but then he bumped the can and it rolled below the passenger’s seat. No! He couldn’t reach it without letting go… Agh…
“Hiya there.” One of the two men swooped in through the passenger’s seat window and pointed a gun at Cruz. “You need any help?”
“I’d prefer if you didn’t try to kill me just yet.”
“Oh, I’m not here to kill you,” the man said. “Name’s Kasix. I was captured by these Greatboys that are chasing you. I’m pretending to join them.”
“Okay. Then can you kill that guy on my roof?”
“Sure thing.” Kasix pointed the gun up and shot it several times. The Greatboy tumbled off. “Now, do you want some help with this NOS?”
Kasix handed Cruz the NOS, and within moments, the Vote Rig sped off, away from Immortan Don and his armies.
It was night and they still hadn’t reached the RNC… Utah was just too big a place, wasn’t it?
Kasix looked back at the delegates; they were all asleep. Cruz was at the wheel, but he was barely conscious himself. This was a noble mission that Solicitor Cruz was embarking on; stealing delegates away from Immortan Don was no simple feat. Kasix himself failed many times in the past at saving delegates from destruction and captivity… it brought him many horrifying memories of primaries’ past… New Hampshire… Michigan…
Cruz woke to full consciousness. “Are we there yet?” he asked.
“You tell me.”
“Oh… sorry.” He wiped his face and blinked rapidly. “It’s just been so long since I’ve been out of Trump Tower for longer than a couple hours…”
“It’s okay, Cruz,” Kasix said. “I’ve had my encounters with Immortan Don in the past, too. That’s why those Greatboys tried to round me up and bring me to him. Poor guys.”
“We aren’t poor! We are great, just like America will be!”
Huh? Kasix and Cruz looked up at the hatch at the roof of the truck and saw that one of the Greatboys was still holding on after all this time. But… Kasix had shot him off, hadn’t he?
Cruz and Kasix held guns up to the man’s face. “Stop!” he shouted. “Don’t shoot! I come in peace.”
“If you come in peace, then why are you still wearing your redhat?” Cruz asked.
“My apologies.” The man discarded his hat and let it fly into the wind. “I just want to plead with you to bring the delegates back to Immortan Don. He is not without mercy; he is a benevolent god.”
“We aren’t here to bargain with you,” Kasix said. “Immortan Don is a con man and a bully.”
“That’s not true! He’s an amazing businessman who made all the deals! He will make America great again!”
Cruz and Kasix looked at each other and sighed.
“Let’s reason with you,” Cruz said.
“Fine. What do you have to say?”
“Wow,” the man said. “I never realized how Immortan Don was just a shallow politican, saying whatever he wanted to people to get him elected into office. I didn’t notice how many times he flip-flopped on nearly every issue, sometimes in the same day. Thanks for telling me all of that useful information.”
“You’re certainly welcome,” Kasix said. “What’s your name, anyway?”
“It’s Mux,” he said. “Mux Rubio.”
“Well then, Mux,” Cruz said. “Welcome aboard. We’re about to get to the RNC and save these delegates.”
The Vote Rig ground to a halt, and everyone stepped out. Except everything around them was still just desert and sand. It was rough and coarse and got everywhere. And the RNC was nowhere to be found.
“I could have sworn it was right here…” Cruz said.
“Your memory seems to be failing you,” Kasix said. “There’s nothing here.
Suddenly, several motorcycles pulled up from the sand dunes and approached the Vote Rig. They were a bunch of old men wearing goggles and scarves and a lot of leather for some reason.
They simultaneously unmasked themselves to reveal that they were none other than John McCain, Orrin Hatch, Jeff Flake, and… Lindsey Graham?!
Kasix pointed at Linds, mouth agape. “How are you– but you died!”
“I got better,” Linds said. “Now, what are y’all here for?”
Cruz stepped up to the men. “We’re looking for the RNC. We have some delegates that we stole from Immortan Don that we want to give.”
The men looked at each other. “Sirs… we don’t…”
John McCain put a hand on Cruz’s shoulder. “The RNC is gone. Immortan Don burned it down back in July. We’re all that’s left of the Establishment. The Gang of Eight.”
“But there are only four of you,” Mux said.
“Well, we had more, but they’ve been picked off over the months,” Orrin Hatch said. “Maybe you’d like to join us? You certainly look like a formidable fighter yourself.” Mux blushed at this newfound praise.
Linds took out binoculars and looked at the vast stretch of sand that the Vote Rig had traversed over the past day. “You know, I think we’re going to have company, soon…”
Everyone began taking out weapons and preparing themselves.
Kasix knew this would be their final stand. Every moment counted. Could he redeem himself for all that he lost? He looked to Linds and nodded. Linds nodded back.
It was time to fight.
There was a really cool fight. Mux sacrificed himself to kill Ben Cardrive and Chris Chanister. All the old guys died in the fight. The delegates all survived, though, and Kasix and Cruz took over Trump Tower after defeating Immortan Don. I’m not writing all that out in detail, it’s too much. The joke is dead. Just as dead as Linds, who probably actually survived the final battle after all.
Fuck you for making me write all this bullshit.
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