LAIR OF THE WULF- a Barbarian in Chicago- part 2
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Nora and the Election

Nora was watching the elections. She was so excited: tonight was the night for her girl- “I’m with Her”- would win the election to become the first woman president of the United States of America!

Part of Nora’s excitement was because she felt she had been a big part of it. After all, she had spearheaded the movement to execute her own grandson (‘very selfless’, she thought often to herself), and so to cement the liberal anti-racist line that was a Democratic mainstay with the voters.

She was ensconced in the bosom of her confidantes: the elite liberals of Hyde Park! Those very folk who had elected the first black president! The creme de la creme of liberal intellectualism! She was so proud.

She looked out at them all. There was Shel Goldstein (Anthropology), drinking wine as he watched the TV, and Charles Jonas (African American Studies), smiling widely in anticipation of a Democratic victory. This would be a wonderful night to remember, a night where their liberal policies, espoused for decades, finally came to fruition! A black president had been elected, and had so wonderfully advanced the cause of liberalism, socialism, and eventually communism and power for those like THEM- and now, with a Woman President, the socialistic grasp of total power would finally be theirs!

The Westermans’, both Rick and Shiela (Women’s Studies) looked towards her, and gave her a “fists up” salute, signifying… well, “power to the people”, she supposed? She smiled, and gave them a peace sign. Such a sign amongst liberals meant to “give up your guns”, and so was always acceptable. Donna and Cindy (Environmental Studies) noticed, and gave the peace sign back to her, and to the rest of the room. Then, all concentrated on the television.

“Why would anyone vote for that snake!!??” asked Charles Jonas, after awhile. What was supposed to be a perfunctory TV show about a woman accepting the presidential nomination had turned into a… well, a contest! Charles Jonas, for one, was not one to let it stand. “Voting for a white honky is unacceptable in this day and age!” he shouted. His hands were visibly shaking.

“Now, Charles,” said Shiela. “Of course there will be a few racists and misogynists left in this country, especially in those backwards flyover areas.” She smiled reassuringly, and everyone calmed down somewhat.

“We will bury those co-s-n m-fks!” muttered the self-styled erudite, calm mannered Charles Jonas. Anger seemed to emanate from him in waves of unreasoning hate. The others unconsciously drew away from him, the only black person in that liberal room. Although they would never admit it, they did, all of them, fear blacks. They knew, living where they did, that explosive violence, always by blacks, lay all around them in Chicago. But of course, they would never admit it, even within their special “circle”.

The night went on, and the votes, influenced by the light of reason that had spread by the eagles via the magic of Jafiro, went steadily more and more to the tall man with the red-gold swirling hair, and away from the witch woman. Right about the point where Pennsylvania and then Wisconsin were won by the tall man, Charles Jonas threw his wine glass, and after that, the wine bottle at the television screen, which was a good 6 by 8 feet in size, and incredibly expensive, shattering it. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“YO M-F-A-H-L!” he screamed, and followed with such foul profanity that even that jaded, liberal bunch was shocked. Nora, as always trying to follow as quick as she could on the heels of liberal protocol, threw her own wine glass into the wrecked television, apropos of nothing. No one even noticed. She thought, despairingly all at once, that that would be the net effect of the rest of her life… Her lifelong liberal cause was dying!

“It be a whitelash!” shouted Charles Jonas, lapsing into ebonics in his wrath. And with that, he stalked out of the stylish Westerman apartment, leaving their living room in a shambles of shattered glass and puddles of wine. The liberal group of self-styled intellectuals all just stood, stunned, thinking that their world had shattered as surely as the Westermans’ television.

Only Rosie, the forty-something “girl”, the illegal the Westerman’s had hired so as to save having to pay a real wage to a legal citizen, looked downright- happy! For, unknown to Rick and Shiela Westerman, the “foreign girl”, as they referred to their housekeeper Rosie, had gone through the process of legally getting her citizenship to America. It had taken a long time, but finally she had become a legal citizen- And she had voted- for the tall man! She knew he would save her new, adopted country from people like those in this room.

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