text: Ted Freely stood atop the world, looking down at all that was his. By *the world*, I mean his world. By *his world*, I mean 2 square miles of feces infested, homeless ridden filth and squalor in a once beautiful Southern California beach town. He was right at home. But truthfully, it wasn’t quite all his yet. The votes were still being counted. Ted was a tall, rotund man who’s heavy breathing could be heard with every step he took. But frankly, he didn’t give a fuck. He was standing on a deck with that cheap, tacky white plastic outdoor furniture. Behind him, sitting in one of those chairs, was a man who was the closest thing Ted had to a friend. His name was Ricky Cobble. Ricky was a short and slender, meek young man. He didn’t quite know how he ended up as Ted’s campaign manager... Or Ted’s friend... Or Ted’s acquaintance. But he tried to make the most of it. “Never in all my years did I think I’d make it here Ricky. They all doubted me. They’ve always doubted me.” Ted pensively boasted, addressing Ricky but really just talking to himself. “My father used to tell me I was good for two things: laughing at attempts to squeeze me into a car seat as a child, and eating all the junk food in the house to keep him from eating it, so he’d stay lean and healthy.” He snickered to himself, “Who’s laughing now, Dad?” Ricky held his phone to his ear, “Ok... ok... yes... yes.... I understand... thank you.” He hangs up. “Well?! Don’t just sit there staring at me! Did I win?!” Ted had left his calm mob boss stance at the head of the deck to manically approach Ricky, now towering over him. Ricky’s mouth couldn’t form words, he was too stricken with equal parts excitement and fear. He formed a wide mouth closed smile at Ted. Ted’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “I did it.” *-3 Months Earlier-* Ted Freely spent his days doing a little of this, a little of that. He hadn’t had a job in years. He lived off of disability checks from the government that he started getting when he pulled off the best case of injury fraud the state of California had ever seen. When that wasn’t enough to pay the bills, he’d sell a little weed. Or meth. Or really whatever he was able to get from the other dealers down at the beach. Then he’d take it downtown and flip it. Ted’s ingenuity and street smarts were about the only positive things most people could attribute to him. Old Bill Skeeter over on Hoover street once ran Ted down with his Pit Bulls, Gunther and Roger, after Ted fleeced him out of $6,000 through one of those pyramid scheme pitches people give to their friends and family. When Skeeter finally cornered Ted and demanded the money, Ted said he didn’t have it, he said he had to use the money to pay for his mother’s heart operation or she was going to die. He promised Skeeter he’d pay him back every penny. Skeeter had a soft heart in his old age and agreed to turning the theft into a loan, while also not letting Gunter and Roger feast on Ted’s ham-like calves. Skeeter died 2 months later from a stroke, and unsurprisingly, Ted’s mother never had nor needed a heart operation. Ted had immediately used the $6,000 to finance a week-long bender in Vegas with a surly hooker he had just met named Dynasty. Dynasty was turning tricks behind an Arby’s when Ted pulled up and decided he’d found love that week. It was a hot July afternoon when Ted first decided his destiny was local political glory. As he waddled down a street of palm trees and downtrodden one story buildings, shoving a bacon covered glazed donut down his throat, he felt a *squish* beneath his dirty flip flops. Ted stopped in his tracks and lifted his foot, managing to get a look at the sole without falling over. And just as he realized that he had just walked over a creamy pile of human shit, he heard laughter coming from right next to him. A man on the sidewalk, leaned against an old commercial building, was cackling at the sight of Ted’s misfortune. The man’s name was Charlie, he had been a local homeless man for years, and was known by many of the locals, as were a handful of the other homeless. Anyway, Ted was seeing red. “Well look at that! HA HA HA real funny, right? You know what else is funny? How about the fact my shoe still smells better than you. You got the nerve to laugh at me? The only joke here is your life, pal!” Ted was red in the face shouting like a maniac, now himself looking like a crazy homeless person. “Hey, at least I don’t have poop on my shoes!” Charlie belted out through roaring laughter. “Fuck you! Get a job you damn leech!” Ted yelled. “Fuck off Ted, your fatass doesn’t work either. Only difference between you and me is you inherited a place to live here. You’d be eating cheetos right next to me here if it weren’t for your Daddy leaving you that big ol’ house.” Charlie was still laughing at Ted. Ted’s tone was quieter but still forceful, “My tax dollars paid for those Cheetos you ungrateful son of a bitch. I’m so sick of this shit. We real people let you... things... run around and do whatever you want all day, all off the sweat of our hard work. It truly disgusts me.” Ted started to turn his head away, staring blankly off into the distance, he was doing that thing where he really just starts talking to himself out loud. “Something has to change here. This town is falling apart at the seams. There’s shit on the sidewalk, bums lining the beaches, and nobody does a damn thing about it. Where are our leaders? When is someone going to step up and do something?!” Ted was yelling again, and as he ranted, a bus pulled up alongside him and Charlie. Plastered across the bus was the face of a man who Ted recognized... a man who was truly good, a family man with a strong moral compass, a man who would take the shirt off his back for a neighbor. The man was everything that Ted wasn’t, and Ted knew it. The man’s name was Jack Huberville, and just as his name appeared on the bus beneath the sprawling picture of his face, the text that followed read “I need your vote for Rocky Beach Mayor, let's make our town perfect!” Ted starred in bitter disgust at the image. “You gotta be shitting me. This guy is running for mayor?! I know this asshole.” Ted pointed to the picture and looked blankly at Charlie. “So?” “So?! So I went to high school with him. He got me suspended in 9th grade. The little bitch told on me for stealing Ms. Hanslett’s medication.” “Didn't she pass away from her illness?” “Damnit Charlie, will you pay attention?! This rat bastard is going to take our town straight to hell.” “He seems alright to me,” Charlie shrugged as he joyfully popped a Cheeto in his mouth. “Well of course you do. He’s the kind of guy that says he wants to sing Kumbaya with your people, but then when you come over to his little meet and greet event, they take you out back and bash your skull in with the George Forman grills they promised you. Then they perform all sorts of twisted experiments on your corpses. I know his type, Charlie” “You got somewhere to be, Ted? Weren’t you walking somewhere?” Charlie asked, now annoyed and itching to get back to his drug fueled sun bathing. “You know what Charlie. I think for the first time in my life... I know exactly where I need to be.” Ted took one last sloppy bite of his donut and emphatically tossed it to the side, unintentionally hitting Charlie in the nose with it. Then he took off walking like a soldier headed to his post. For the first time in his life, Ted Freely had a purpose: he must destroy Jack Huberville.