Evil Hat had a special offer where in exchange for a paragraph written on our experiences with the election (written in a pulp manner), a special discount on a PDF of the pulp game Spirit of the Century would be provided. I am now the proud owner of a terminally cheap PDF of Spirit of the Century.
And here below, is the story of my experiences voting this morning.
A few details maybe somewhat exaggerated.
I gunned the engine of our Lancer as we took the corner on two wheels, scattering a pack of Rotarians like startled pigeons. "Is he still back there?" My Love hollered, digging under the seat for her bag of tricks "Hardly!" I shot back, “He's right next to us!" And indeed he was; by cutting through the playground, our Neanderthal pursuer had managed to close the gap between us and his outsized pickup (complete with testicular attachments on the trailer hitch and a lynched Cowboy Woody doll dangling from the side mirror). By glancing to my left, I could easily lip-read the words spewing from his nicotine-stained lips: 'MONKEY FOR FETCH AY CHEESEBALLS LOVING'...well, maybe not all that easily, as I was managing the tricky task of keeping at least one wheel on the road, navigate through morning traffic, and keep our pursuer- somehow enraged by the "No on H8" bumper sticker our car sported- from preventing me from voting by the subtle stratagem of using his car like a macroencephallic mace..
“I found it!" My Love hollered triumphantly, extracting what looked like a large tightly wound ball of yarn in an elaborate knot. “Get ahead of him!” And by dint of my naturally miraculous driving ability, honed by years of taking the worst traffic San Francisco could throw at me, I briefly cut him off via a right-left-right sideslip. With perfect timing, My Love flung the knitting ball, which impacted on the windshield of the truck, and exploded out into a six-foot wide knitted poster of ‘Obama for President. Frantically our pursuer tried to slew around to dislodge the curtain, but the special adhesive formula on the backing, kept it securely fastened. It was thus that his efforts caused him to overturn his truck, and we left it tumbling into a handy barranca.
It was at this point, as I slewed into the parking lot of the community center, that I noticed that the last collision had somehow managed to disable the breaks. “Hang on!” I yelled, “This is going to have to be a drive by voting!” as the entrance loomed at us with ferocious speed…
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