At the Palindrome

At the Palindrome

Two boys rehearsed outside the arena. Yellow leaves drifted from tall maples.

“Madam, I’m Adam,” the first shouted.

“Was it a rat I saw?”” the other rejoined.

Inside, Joe paced the hall. “We’re almost done with Palintology and Plumbing. A man, a plan, a canal – Panama!” he cried.

“Joe, put down your big stick – you’re no Teddy Roosevelt,” Barry said.

“That’s right,” said Joe. “And this ain’t the great depression and you’re not FDR, you socialist.”

A vendor hawked ‘Stressed Desserts,’ an ice cream sundae with chocolate sauce on both the top and bottom, garnished with shredded dollar bills.

Bam Bam and Pebbles sat in the front row. “Not ton,” said Bam Bam. “Part trap.”

Pebbles held up a picture of a foreclosed property. “Cave evac!”

“Deities of our time,” muttered Bam Bam. “Dog god yaw way.”

“Let’s change the course of history,” said Pebbles. “Let’s go beyond 270 electoral votes to over 300. Edit tide.”

“Calm our global currency,” said Bam Bam. “Money, yen om.”

Wilma, who’d driven them in the Dinomobile, turned. “There is only one true palindrome,” she said.

“What, god dog?” asked Pebbles.

Wilma smiled. “Mom.”

In the red room, John said “Mav! “Vam!”

Sarah, playing with her $22,000 hairdo, responded, “Moose! Is esoom a word?”

Karl, Steve and Mark muttered in the corner: “Straight talk. Experienced Leader. War Hero. Maverick. Patriot. Where did we go wrong?”

“But tub,” said John. “I’m between Barack and a hard place. End time emit dne.”

In the blue room, Howard counted states on his wall-sized map ecstatically. “7 to 11 point lead, ahead in 8 key states,” he chortled. “60 Senators. Our long national nightmare is about to be over! Spam maps!”

Rahm shuddered. “Howie, don’t count your chickens. We’re still three days out! We’ve got to turn out the vote to turn off the fear and resentment channel.”

In the green room, Barry flipped through his index cards. “God deliver, reviled dog.”

“Swap paws,” cried Joe. “Star rats!”

Barry’s ad agency ran their spot. A picture of John and Sarah flashed: “Live evil!”

Michelle had covered a 9 x 12’ whiteboard with words written forwards and backwards. “I’ve got it!" she said. “The key themes of the campaign. ‘God, Sarah was on taxes. Wolf rout! Dog harass? Aw, no sex at flow tour.’”

The ad agency flashed a picture of Joe. “Gab bag!” it said.

“Very funny,” said Joe. “Straw warts.”

Fred and Barney watched on the TV rock.

“Money is the root of all evil,” said Fred. “The bank bailout world tour hit Japan and Kuwait. The Fifth Second Bank of Bedrock just took back all my credit cards. Diaper repaid.”

“Gut tub,” chortled Barney. “Sarah’s negatives are way up. Gal lag.”

Bam Bam and Pebbles mulled over their list of words. “Barry’ll go with what this election is really about,” said Bam Bam. “Raw war.”

A Nascave ad flashed on the big screen in front of them. “Car rac! Car rac.”

In the end Barry went with a picture of John and Sarah riding a gas and oil-belching dinosaur and a message that crooned, “Do you want ‘Dammit I’m mad’ and ‘redivider’?’ Instead, vote Barry and Joe - vote for the change we need.”