Tinkletoes' Platform

“You don't enlist.  You have to be elected.”  Carp says.

“I've always stood out among the competition.  This shouldn't be too hard.” Tinkletoes says.

“There are nearly twenty other candidates currently running for President.” Carp points out.

“Less than twenty huh?  Light competition.  You keep acting like this is gonna be hard or something.”

“You have to be chosen by a majority of your peers.”  Peter adds.

“I got along with everyone in my company.  I'll have no trouble getting elected.”

“He doesn't understand.”  Dylan says looking at TP.

TP spins midair and in a swirl of activity does a costume change.  The faerie appears in powdered wig, bleached shirt, waistcoat, frock coat and breeches as worn during colonial times.  TP clasps his hands behind him and begins the lesson.

“There has been a President of the United States since 1789.  He is an official elected by a majority in a general election.  These are not your exact peers.  The people you are counting on to elect you to office are the registered voters of this country.  They like a candidate who is a wealthy landowner.  He also needs to look good in a powdered wig.  A...choo!”  TP sneezes into a delicate handkerchief with elegant flourish.

“In other words, it's a popularity contest.” House's words carry into the kitchen from the bonus room.  “You know like in high school.  Who were the most well known people in high school?”

“The ones with the coolest cars.”  Tinkletoes answers.

“Tell us Tinkletoes...did you have a cool car?”   She asks.

“No.”  He admits.  “I enjoyed beating the tar out of the kids who did and the kids who made fun of the kids who didn't have cool cars and the kids who made fun of the kids that didn't have cars.  The kids that had bad attitudes.  The kids that didn't observe school rules.  The kids that were rude to the teachers and the janitor.”

“It sounds like you beat everybody up.”  Carp says.

“Only the people that didn't do what I told them.  High school kids can be pretty dense.”

“Can I be the one to tell him that he has to campaign for votes?  I really want to be the one to explain the whole being nice to people thing.”  House says.

“Something you need practice with darling.”  Mural Man's answer can be heard from the other room.

“I'll practice on you anytime.”  She purrs.

Dylan looks at Dobby and rolls his eyes.  “Grown-ups.”  He says.  The ginger tabby nods in agreement.

“You sir need to become a gentleman.”  TP says.

“Didn't we already do that?”  Carp and Mural Man ask simultaneously.

“You tried.”  Tinkletoes says with a grin.  “I am motivated to get this job.   I'll tell you what, I promise to shower, shave, and shine my combat boots everyday.”

“Hmm...” TP responds pacing back and forth through the air as he ponders Tinkletoes' proposal.

“I'll wear clean cammos too.”

TP looks at Tinkletoes without answering.

“I'll clean my gun and I promise to leave the grenades at home.”

“There are no grenades when running for office.”  Dylan informs Dobby.

“Oy vey.”  Carp groans shaking his head.

“Practice.  You need practice, sir.”  TP says.

“But before he practices he needs a platform.” Carp says.

“No I don't.  The ceiling is too low in this kitchen.   I don't need anything to stand on.”

“Not a platform.  A platform.”  Dobby says.

“I'm not wearing those ridiculous shoes either.  I was born in combat boots.  Combat boots are what I wear.”

“Your platform means what your views are on the issues dummy.”  House says.

“Darling.”  Mural Man warns.

“Sorry sugar lips.  It just slipped out.”

“Slipped out completely on purpose.”  Carp sings softly.

“What is your platform going to be?”   Dylan asks.

Tinkletoes thinks for a moment and says,  “That's simple.  Do what I say.   I have all the guns.”

“You need more than that sir.”  Founding Father TP says.

“Yes what about your stance on the issues?”  Carp asks.

“Stance?”  Tinkletoes repeats.

“You have to convince people that you are going to run the country in their best interests.”

“Why?”

“No one is going to vote someone into office that they know is going to make decisions that will affect them negatively.”   Carp explains.

“I'm running for President.  What I say goes.”

“He doesn't get it.”   Dylan says.

“How about this...what are your philosophies regarding the current issues in this country?”  Carp asks.

“Everyone is going to do what I tell them.  There won't be any issues.”

“Gun control.”  Carp says.

“I'll have all the guns.”

Everyone looks at Tinkletoes hoping for something better.

“Okay...the police and the military can keep their guns but they can only use them at work.”

“What about all of the private citizens that currently own firearms?”

“I'm taking those away.”

Light dims in the room then brightens.  Every open space has been filled with pixies.  Pixies with microphones, recording devices, and cameras of every sort in hand.  A voice squeals, “Over here Mr. Tinkletoes” and when Tinkletoes looks up a flash goes off from a vintage camera blinding him for a moment.

“What about the Constitution?”  One pixie asks.

“Don't you think questions about my health are a little bit personal?”  Tinkletoes asks.

“A citizen's right to bear arms.”  A second pixie prompts.

“I don't care what people wear.  If they want to go sleeveless it's fine by me.”  He says proudly.

“How do you feel about immigration?”  Another pixie asks.

Tinkletoes leans over and asks Dobby “What are they talking about?”

“What is your plan should aliens arrive at our borders.”   House whispers baiting Tinkletoes.

“All aliens will be shot on sight.”   Tinkletoes announces with a smile.

There is an uproar, all the pixies start chattering at once.

Tinkletoes feels a tug on his pant leg.  The self-proclaimed mercenary looks down.  “Make sure they know you're talking about space aliens.”

“Who'd they think I was talking about?”