I am sure that your parents are saying that they can’t wait for the election to be over. My friends, don’t believe it. Humans love elections. They even have them in the immortal world. And I have found myself plum stuck in the middle of a scandal.
This year Grover Cleveland is running against William Jennings Bryan for the office of Immortal President. The office has no power, but humans still go to great lengths to get elected. I became a Cleveland supporter because I like the Indians and I am easily confused. I am a judge, and my endorsement carries more weight than my body. On Friday Cleveland visited me at my cottage to sure up my support.
I made him a cup of tea, and we talked. I could tell something was bothering him, so I inquired. He told me that he had been accused of sharing state secrets in personal correspondences. He assured me that there was no truth to these rumors. He said he had more campaign appearances and slipped out while I was in the kitchen washing the teacups.
When I returned to my study, I saw a bottom desk drawer was slightly ajar. When I opened it I found it overstuffed with papers. When I examined them, I found the were Mr. Cleveland’s personal correspondence. I could not tell if they were of any import and didn’t care. I did not want the most talked about missives in the afterlife in my possession.
And then I found a truly frightening piece of evidence.
It was a picture of Benjamin Harrison’s weiner. Male members, even before I was neutered, repulsed me. Mr. Harrison’s weiner was no 21st century bathed every day johnson. It was a bathed once a year willie (whether it needed it or not.) It was dirty, tangled, gross, and inexplicably dog-legged to the left.
I knew I had to destroy the correspondence at once. I could not afford to be tied to a human political scandal. I lit a big fire in the fireplace and prepared to burn the papers when there was a hard knock on my door.
I looked out the window, and there were four hedgehogs wearing sunglasses and long trenchcoats. It was just as I had feared. It was the Furry Bureau of Investigation.
Not wanting any trouble I turned over the papers, including Mr. Harrison’s peeper, immediately. They promised me anonymity but, as anyone who has lived with a hedgehog can attest, they leak, and soon my name was a trending topic on Bitter, which is the Twitter for the dead, called Bitter because only people who are angry about their existence use it, so it is exactly like Twitter.
I am laying low right now hoping this scandal blows over. While Mr. Jennings Bryan and I are both supporters of the wall, he is too unpredictable for my nature and, even though he says he has never done it, it is just a matter of time before he is back on the animal side grabbing pussies right and left.
I don't know about your parents but I can't wait for this election to be over.