T'was the night before election day and everyone had gone to bed. Everyone, that is, except for Donald.
Donald had not slept in weeks. He sat restlessly on his gold-plated toilet wondering if he should use a laxative.
A face appeared in front of him. It was not a human face. It was a mysterious apparition that floated effortlessly in the middle of the room.
Donald blinked once, twice.
"Hello, Richard," the apparition said.
"R - Richard?" Donald repeated. "I'm Donald."
The apparition paused, looking slightly confused. It looked at a mysterious piece of paper that floated in mid air.
"You have been running on 'law and order'?"
"Y - yes," Donald said.
"You have been claiming there is a hidden vote for you? A 'silent majority'?"
"....Yes."
"You have been keeping a list of enemies?"
"Well, sure," said Donald.
"You're Richard," the apparition said. "Richard Nixon."
"No!...No!"
"Sh - sh," the ghost calmly touched a hand to Donald's shoulder. "It's just a fact," the ghost said. "You are Richard Nixon."
"A f - a fact? What is that? I've heard of those, but never really got -"
"I know, I know," the ghost said with a sigh. "Facts are difficult to understand. I'll explain later."
"Who are you?"
"I am the Ghost of Elections Past."
"No! - No, it can't be. You aren't real. You're a figment of my imagination. It's because I haven't slept since 1993. You're a piece of undigested KFC. You can't be real!"
"I assure you, I am real, Richard."
"Donald! I'm Donald!"
"Calm down, Richard. It's okay."
"Why are you here?"
"I'm here to show you the past."
"No! Anything but th - "
But before Donald could finish his objection he and the ghost were whisked back tn 1998.
Donald saw his younger self sitting in a room with a reporter.
"What's this?" Donald asked the ghost.
"It's you, in 1998, doing an interview for People Magazine."
Then the younger Donald spoke; "If I ran I would do it as a Republican. They're the dumbest voting block in the world. I could go out there and lie and they would eat it up."
"No! I never said that."
"Donald! The ghost looked sternly at him. "Donald, we just saw you say it."
"But - "
"Shut up. You said it. You can't keep pretending you didn't say things that you said."
Donald desparately tried to reach out to his younger self, but he was suddenly whisked back to the present.
He was again sitting on the gold-plated toilet.
"I really need a laxative," he said out loud to no one.
"I know how to shake your bowels loose," said a new mysterious voice.
Donald looked up, startled. A new apparition appeared in front of him.
"Hello, Richard," it said.
"I'm Donald."
"You want to know how we can shake those bowels loose, Richard?"
"How - who are you?"
"I am the Ghost of Elections Future."
"Oh, god, no. NO!"
"That's right, Richard, one glimpse of the future and your body will empty itself out like a popped balloon."
"It - it can't be that bad. I have such a good brain."
"Richard!"
"I'm Donald."
"You're Richard. Accept it. You will be the most erratic, emotionally immature, dishonest Preseident since Richard Nixon, and you know how THAT ended, right?"
"No...NO, it can't be!"
"It's true, Richard. There's only one way it can end."
"I'll change. I'll do better. I promise."
"Too late, Richard. It's too late." And the ghost began to disappear.
"Wait. Come back. Aren't we going to visit the future?"
"Fuck that," the ghost said. "I've already seen it. Too depressng to see it again. I'm out."
"NO! Come back. I'll change. I'll - "
But the ghost was gone.
"I promise, I'll do better." Donald sank to his knees. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Then suddenly he realized he needed to sit back on the gold-plated toilet asap.
Peter Wick
November 14, 2016
