Riders on the Storm Read Free Page B

whistled.
    â€œBut I didn’t come here tonight to belittle anybody. I came here tonight to say that with your help we can put a true man and a true patriot in this Congressional seat—and I don’t have to tell you who that is, do I? A very successful businessman as well. Come over here, Steve!”
    This time everybody applauded. I joined in. He was a shit most of the time but then there was a decent, generous side to him that almost, but not quite, made you like him. I’d known him since grade school. He’d always been this way.
    Donovan was a slick package. A fit, blond man who’d played good basketball at the university in Iowa City, he’d just gotten his business launched when Uncle Sam dragged him out of his house. Tonight he was dressed much like the senator. Golf shirt, in his case black; tailored yellow slacks; a large and no doubt real gold watch; and a smile that could not quite hide the smirk inside.
    My eyes strayed to his wife Valerie, who stood at the front. A perfect fit for him. A lithe brunette of brutal beauty in a chic emerald fitted dress and a smile very much like hubby’s. Practiced and cold. She applauded just the right, proper way and gazed just the right, proper way on our next congressman. The too liberal for these times—and face it, uninspired—congressman presently holding the seat would undoubtedly stay in Washington, but now as consultant or lobbyist.
    â€œThose of you who know me know that I’m not really practiced at giving speeches. Valerie and me”—the classic ungrammatical pronoun to go along with this whole shuck and jive I’m just a regular feller bullshit—“we’re private folks. So this doesn’t come natural to me.”
    â€œYou do great!” a man in the back shouted.
    â€œWell, thank you. I appreciate the support. And I’ll need that support when I run.”
    The orgasm moment. He’s running. Applaud until your hands run with blood; scream until you lacerate your throat.
    The camera man—a young guy interchangeable with most hippies you saw on the street—panned the faces of the excited people up front.
    Donovan started waving for them to calm down, but that smile said who could blame them? A hot-shit property like me? Just who the hell
could
blame them?
    â€œI’ll tell you what, my friends. I’m going to accomplish things when we get to Washington. I’m going to cut the terrible taxation we all suffer under and I’m going to make sure that every single country on this planet is either our friend or our enemy. And if they’re our enemy then all I’ve got to say is—watch out! I’m sick of hearing this country denigrated by all these third-rate loudmouths. And it’s happening right here at home. Just look at our morals. Moral people can’t go to movies anymore. And the songs on the radio. I’m not afraid of censorship. You heard me say that, right? Sometimes you have to have censorship. And one more thing—I won’t let any so-called American citizen run this country down. And that goes for soldiers who sign petitions that claim that our honorable service was immoral!”
    I couldn’t take any more applause. I let my bladder lead me into the house. When I finished I put the lid down and sat on it. I smoked and did a little smirking myself. I knew just enough about politics to know that he had to use groups like these to get the initial support he needed. When he started appearing before large groups he’d have to be much more moderate. The TV news tonight would be kind to him. He’d get at most a minute and a half and the sound bite would be how he was going to make our country safe again from porno and songs of sex. He sounded good; he looked good, didn’t he? And who among the voters gave a shit anyway? He was as much against hippies and lust as they were, wasn’t he?
    I sat there a while longer, enjoying the