“This whole
election process just doesn’t work for me,” Dud said,
sipping his coffee.
“There’s no way we can tell who is best for the job.”
Doc, being
the senior member of the Mule
Barn truck stop’s world dilemma think tank, looked kindly
at Dud. “Well,
haven’t you been reading what each guy stands for, Dud?”
Dud
shrugged. “Sure. But I firmly believe
they only tell you what you want to hear. They’re the
best, and the other guy
is going to take you straight to ruined aspirations.”
“Ruined
aspirations?” piped up Steve, the
cowboy with the owlish look of pure bowlegged
intellectualism. “That’s why I’ve
always thought we need a contest. A real contest. Have
them put their
aspirations where they’ll do the most good.”
“A contest?”
“Bull riding,”
said Steve, nodding sagely.
“Just put them on bulls and the first one to fall off
loses.”
“But what does
bull riding have to do with
taxes and warfare and education and all that stuff?” asked
Doc.
“Nothing at
all,” said Steve, “but you can
bet it will separate the serious candidates from the
oh-what-the-heck guys.”
“I like what I’m
hearing here,” said Dud,
with a grin. “Only problem is, if they ride bulls, one of
them might get
killed.”
Steve
grinned, “Helps simplify the process,
doesn’t it?
-------
Brought
to you
with a smile from Slim’s just-out fun novel, Whimsy
Castle. At better
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Thriftbooks and Page Publishing.