“What really bothers me about the Republicans’ claims of voter fraud is that they claim dead people voted, but they don’t give us any specifics,” Aaron complained from his bench after taking a sip of Snapple.
Holly nodded in agreement from her bench on the other side of the path, where she maintained properly socially distanced from her best friend.
She didn’t say anything, though, because she knew he was about to go off on one of his classic rants. She just put on her metaphorical seat belt and prepared to enjoy the ride.
“I mean, aren’t they going to tell us what kind of dead people voted?” he continued and proved her point. “Were these dead people Zombies or Ghosts? We do have a pandemic ravaging our nation, even though Trump and his cronies are ignoring that fact, so if there were Zombies voting, that means the outbreak has been taken to an entirely new level! And that’s way bigger news than Trumps’ pathetic attempts to cling to a job he’s failed at miserably for the past four years.”
“We might need to call out the National Guard,” Holly volunteered.
She smiled, but he could not tell because she was wearing her mask. She loved to egg him on when he got all worked up about a topic. It made for great entertainment.
“Exactly!” he agreed excitedly. “I mean, Trump has no problem calling in the troops to clear a path for a photo op at a church, so you know he’d want them out there clearing the streets of the undead.”
“Maybe he’s not so concerned because Zombies have a taste for brains, and there isn’t much of that available in Trump’s White House!” she shouted and then laughed wildly at her own joke.
Aaron shook his head in disappointment.
“You watch The Walking Dead religiously,” he scolded her. “You know that Zombies eat way more than brains. Trump’s got a lot of fat on him, so the walkers would make a bee line for such a feast. Plus, I bet the red hats draw their attention, kind of like a red cape attracts a bull.”
“I stand corrected,” Holly conceded as she took a sip of her coffee.
“But what if the dead voters in Pennsylvania were Ghosts?” he posed. “Then we’ve got an entirely different kind of problem on our hands.”
“Beginning with which team of Ghostbusters you call,” Holly chirped. “Even though I’m a feminist, I’d still vote for the original team, rather than the one from the remake. Call me a traitor to my sex if you want, but I really love Bill Murray.”
Aaron rolled his eyes and plowed ahead with his rant as if her witty, little quips had not even happened.
“Ghosts might not be a problem,” he explained. “They could just be long dead patriots who were haunted by the way Trump was destroying their country. Or it could be a Beetlejuice kind of situation where the voters didn’t realize they’re dead, and they just went about their lives like normal, voting on Election Day as they would have done any other year…”
“But what if they’re not good Ghosts?” Holly inquired between sips of coffee.
“Well, if they voted for Biden, I don’t see how you could classify them as evil.”
He laughed. She did not not. She thought it was funny, but she knew he’d try even harder to amuse her if he thought he was failing.
“With Election Day being so close to Halloween, you have to believe that some Ghosts never crossed back over,” he mused. “Many experts believe that the portal between worlds remains open for up to a week after All Hallows Eve. So it would make sense that lingering spirits would hang around to cast a vote. Especially if it meant defeating a force as evil as Trump!”
“So how do you think the Republicans plan to prove that dead people voted?” she asked sincerely.
“I’ve heard they’re bringing in that kid from The Sixth Sense,” he replied. “But if you ask me, it’s far more important to get rid of the orange Ghost currently haunting the White House…”