'Damning reflection on the reality of American democracy.' David Tarallo
RICK PERRY PRAYS FOR THE ASSASSINATION GAMES
Stefano Boscutti
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Stefano Boscutti
All rights reserved ISBN 978-0-9807125-8-2
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This is a work of fiction. While many of the characters portrayed here have counterparts in the life and times of Rick Perry, the characterizations and incidents presented are products of the author's imagination.
RICK PERRY PRAYS FOR THE ASSASSINATION GAMES
RICK PERRY is on his knees, praying before his God.
Ten minutes, Governor Perry. Ten minutes before you're on.
It's not God talking. It's the intercom in his dressing room. Crystal clear. The country may be broken but Fox News studio is all class. The television corporation has set up a giant production facility outside the derelict Mall of America for the latest Assassination Games.
In the spirit of free markets and no longer hamstrung by Government regulations, the Republican Party Presidential Primaries have evolved into the most watched television phenomena in the world. Everyone watches the games.
For three days everyone is glued to their phones and pads and screens. Local Governments dip into their meager budgets to project the games onto highrise buildings so everyone in poverty zones can take part. Ridiculous given the underclass no longer has the right to vote.
But everyone gets into the spirit of the games. For the Federal Government it's a major revenue stream. The Assassination Lottery generates more money than the Internal Revenue Service. For voters, there are so many ways to win. You can choose race, height, weight, gender or age. You can choose outfits, weapons, official time of death. You can even choose hair color. Policies? People don't really bother with policies. They're too hard to print on the little scratch tickets.
Perry has been fasting all day. He spots the silver platter overflowing with ripe apples, sweet oranges. But he won't yield to temptation. He won't let down his God.
He rolls out his smile. He's been practicing that smile his whole life.
Perry is a good looking man. Six foot and more, broad shouldered, could have played professional football if he was a little more intelligent.
Hair and makeup will be coming in next. Probably that damn stylist too. The one who wants him to wear the silver Stetson. Perry always feels comfortable in his chinos and blue shirt. The boots he likes. And the belt with the big brass buckle. But the hat makes his head look too big. He'll carry it in his hand, wave it high to the crowd as he enters the mall. The cheers will make him feel good.
Perry hasn't felt good for some time. Entering the race he felt great. He felt his God was with him every step of the way. That's what Reverend Wildmond had told him.
Wildmond and the other pastors had sat with Perry in the Governor's mansion and told him he was a prophet. Yes, a prophet anointed by his Lord to lead the United States into revival and Godly government.
They had joined hands and prayed over him that day. They had prayed mightily that Texas was to be the prophet state. Perry was to lead an army of God over the seven mountains of the world. Perry was to lead the way.
In the two short weeks since he had entered the Republican race, Perry had shot to the top of the lottery polls and is already odds on favorite. Everyone has been eating up his speeches and declarations.