A Vote Harvesting Parable

[Lord Long Rod]

Well sir, I reckon it be back in, ooohhhhh…., back in 2016, I dun do recall. See, I were sittin in my old rocky char on my front porch at my old homestead way back up yonder and high up in them thar ancient hills of Nort Carolina, in my home of Sasquatch Hollow. It were bout nein thutty in the a.m. and I were enjoyin me sum of that thar homemade corn licker and smokin my pipe. Course, I had my old shootin iron cross ma lap too, in case one of them thar sumbitchin sasquatches took a notion to fuck with me. See, them thar critters, they been gittin all uppity round these parts lately, jest a howlin and smackin the sides of my cabin an sech. I think they a might pissed on a count of one night when they twere a’fuckin round my place, and I took one of my homemade mounts of a sasquatch head out on my old porch and proceeded to skull fuck it in front of ‘em. Them mangy beasts jest ain’t got no sense of humor!



So thar I were, jest a’sittin on my porch, when I heard a ruckus comin up the trail that leads up to my old cabin. I did not rightly knowd what it were, but from the footsteps I could reckon that it were a big thang! So I took up a defensive position with my old shootin iron, a heavily modified M-60. As the footsteps approached there could be no doubt that it were a’hedin straight fer me!



Then I cut loose!! I yelled out, “Come on, you swarthy fucking critter, and get ya’ll sum!!”, then opened fire!!! The “tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat” of machine gun far were jest music to ma old ears!! After I dun dumped a belt load on that sumbitch, and the woods quieted down sum, I heard a pitiful cry. It said “Roy!! Roy!! Hold yer fire!! It’s me!!!”



I dun did recognize that voice! It were that fat fuck Sheriff of ours. Then damned old sasquatch don’t talk; well, not like that, ennyway. I called out, “Sheriff!!! Is that you?!?! Git yer sorry ass on up here if’n that be you afore I load another belt in this sumbitch and cut loose on ya again!!”



After a few seconds, thar he wuz. It were Sheriff, all 300 hundert pounds of him. “Goddamn”, I thunk to maself, “That sumbitch is bigger than ever.” He made it up to my porch, panting from exertion, and had a lil grin on his face. I asked, “What are ya’ll grinning at, ya stupid fat fuck?” It took another 5 minutes fer all his chins to stop a’jigglin.



Sheriff sed he had sum good news fer me. But I had sum bidness to discuss fust. “Sheriff, you is bigger than the entire state of Nevada. You must eat biscuits by the bushel. How in the hell did I miss you with my shootin’ iron?!?, I asked. He sed right before I commenced to opening fire on him – something he has come to expect in his sojourns up here to my place, he spied a dug out spot aside of the trail and jumped into it. “Oh yeah”, I replied. “That shallow grave I dug. I guess when all the bodies decay the ground kinda sinks down.”



Sheriff looked at me and asked, “What?” I sed, “Never pay that no mind, Sheriff. You want to come inside fer a lil nip?” Of course he eagerly accepted my invitation. It is not so much a’cuz he likes to drank my corn whiskey so much as it is that he likes my approval. He is a cuck face choad licker if there ever wuz one. Hell, he lets me fuck his old lady!



So we wint inside and sat down, my Mason jar in my hand, and the Sheriff with sum shine I poured fer him in a Dairy Queen glass commemorating “The Gremlins” movie. Sheriff said he has got sum good news fer me. I replied, “I heard ya the first time ya sed it, you fat, dum sumbitch.” Then I thought, “Good news?” Maybe Madam Kalashnikov down at the whore house lifted her restrainin order agin me?



I looked over at old Sheriff. He looked dejected and sad that I had shot down his good news. So I sed, “OK, fat ass. What good news ya’ll got fer me? Am I allowed back at the cooter shack?” Sheriff’s eyes grew wide, as he was clearly excited that I wanted to hear what he had to say. “No, Roy. It ain’t that. Judge Robert Lee sed that restraining order is permanent. Doncha member? This is BETTER that than!!” Now the sumbitch had my attention. What could be better than getting back into the cooch pen?



Then Sheriff hit me with it. “You got your right to vote reinstated!!” I paused, letting the gravity of what he sed sink in. I chugged down what was left in my Mason Jar, stood up, and then busted the jar over Sheriff’s head, shattering it to pieces.



“What the fuck do you mean, coming up here and gittin me all worked up bout getting back into the titty barn then tell me some dumb shit like this?!? Fuck you and your right to vote!!! Motherfucker!!! We is in the south! We don’t even recognize the federal government!! What the fuck are ya’ll, Sheriff?!?! A fuckin YANKEE?!?!?!””



By this time Sheriff was on his knees and beggin fer his life. He knowd he fucked up. Never come between a mountain man and his pussy! That thar is Mountain Man Rule Numero Uno!



I finally calmed down a bit and started feelin sorry fer old Sheriff. I knowd he ain’t no yankee. Hell, him and I used to run the black folks outa town together ever time they showed up. Sheriff was lookin kind of puny and pathetic, what with all the blood running down his face and all his blubbering. He chins were gyratin so much I could feel the breeze of ‘em. I had a roll of toilet paper sittin on my coffee table. I picked it up and threw it at Sheriff, smackin him on his head with it. Then I sed “Clean yerself up, you squallin bitch.”



After he dun made hisself all purty agin, we went out front and sat on the front porch together, me in my rockin chair and Sheriff atop a 5 gallon bucket. I had to tell him to turn it over lest he get his big, fat ass stuck in it again. Then I asked, “What do I fuckin care about a right to vote? You sed my rights had been restored. Fuck, man, I did not even know they been taken away.”



Sheriff explained that sum federal judge down in Atlanta took away my right to vote back when I got maself busted with a load of meth and some Chinese whores I was haulin down to Miami to sell. I should have gotten away with it, but the old mule pulling me and the stash in my old wagon up and died on me on I-75 in Atlanta. I should have dun time. But due to my time in the service he cut me some slack and put me on probation with the condition that I had to forfeit my voting rights and give him 10 gallons of my Zombie Shine, a special brew I make up in the deep, dark woods. It’s a hard hittin sumbitch too!! A lot of my customers think I spike it with sum kind of drug ya find in the hood. But all I do is mix sum antifreeze and Nair in there! I sell that shit fer 2 hundies per gallon.



Ennyway, apparently sum judge took over and reduced my sentence. I asked Sheriff who would have dun that. He sed “Well, Roy, times they change. Your judge retired and was replaced with one of them thar ‘woke’ judges.” I asked “What do you mean, woke? What in the hell do that mean? Like, he’s awake all the time?”



First, Sheriff corrected me. He told me that the new judge is a SHE, not a he. I naturally rolled my eyes and sed “Jesus fucking Christ…a pussy fer a judge. What in the hell is the world commin too?” Sheriff then explained to me that ‘woke’ means she is a progressive person, kind of like a liberal Democrat on acid.



I tensed up when I heard this. I cut Sheriff a look and asked “A commie?” Sheriff thought on it a moment then sed, “Well, yes, I guess you could call it commie-ism. Yeah.”. I shook my head and looked down toward the ground. We fought communism for half of the last century, and now here it is right here in the good old US of A. I guess they finally won.



Sheriff shook me out of my stupor. He told me that tomorrow was election day and that I had best vote because we would be electing as new president. I asked him who was running. He sed the GOP was running Donald Trump, a New York yankee boy with ties to the Jews. I asked who the Dem scum were running. He sed “Hillary Clinton”.



I nearly hurt myself puking when I heard that name. I mean, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!!! Hillary Fucking Clinton?!? I have hemorrhoids with more charm and charisma than THAT ugly bitch! Plus, she is crooked as hell. How could she not be crooked, having been hooked up with old Wild Billy Clinton for all those years?!? I thought about it fer a moment, then puked my guts up again.



So those were my choices: A Jew loving yankee city boy, or an ugly corrupt harpy from Hell. Sweet bleedin’ Jesus …



Sheriff continued with the good news, telling me “Now Roy, I dun knowd that you ain’t much fer comin down off’n yer mountain, so I dun made arrangements fer a ‘Ballot Harvester” to come up here to git yer vote.” I thunk fer a moment and asked, “Ballot Harvester? What the fuck is that?”



Sheriff explained that a ballot harvester is a person who comes to your home with a ballot so you can fill it out, sign it, and then he or she takes the ballot back to town to be counted. I sighed. “Well, ok, I guess. But make sure it’s a chick with big titties, ya hear? I don’t want some stick boy comin up here and wasting my time, ya’ll knowd what I mean?”



Sheriff finally left… a couple more hours after he dun wore out his welcome. I pondered on the events of the day. Voting rights. Rotten candidates. I still cain’t git into the pussy shack. Fuck. I should have jest wint huntin. Soon enough, the next day came. I was sittin on my old front porch again, sippin on some cool mountain Zombie Shine and hittin the pipe. Course, I had my old shootin iron across my lap again, in case I see something to shoot at.



Suddenly, I heard a voice calling my name. “Roy? Roy? Yoo hoo!!!” It was the sweetest sounding voice I ever dun did heard. Then I remembered that the ballot harvester was paying me a visit today! I eagerly stood up, saying to myself “Oh Boy!! The pussy is here!!” Then the visitor came into sight, leading to a great disappointment.



It were, indeed, the ballot harvester. Only, she weren’t no fuck-ready sexy young lass. She was a fat black bitch. She looked like Rerun from the TV box, but more manly. My cock went limp. I thought to myself, “Goddamn it, Sheriff!! You dun fucked me!!!”



She saw me and walked right on up. “Hi, Roy!!! I’m Shaneekwah!!! And I …… OH MY!!!” She gasped that last bit. I guess I caught her off guard, what with me being naked as a jay-bird. I sed, “Oh, sorry bout that, sweetie. Jest let me run on inside and put somthang on fer ya!”



When I returned I noticed that she was staring at something on the porch. I looked, then sed “Oh, yeah. That thar is my AOC sex doll!! That sumbitch cost me 7 grand, on account of I wanted it to be jest like the real thang! She used to talk too, but I got tired of listening to her stupid bullshit. So after I beat it over the head a few times with a shovel it stopped talking.”



See, I woke up with an angry hard on this here morning. So I got the old AOC doll out of the closet, took it out front and bent it over a 55 gallon drum, whar I proceeded to defile her cute bottom. I pointed out the leftover over bukkake on its face to the ballot harvester and sed “See that? I did that!” At that point she curtly sed, “Why don’t we get down to business, Mr. Roy?” Then she paused to look at my “Fuck Bill Clinton” t-shirt.



She began, “OK, so let me make this quick and I will get out of your hair. You are voting for Hillary Clinton in the presidential race. I have already filled out your ballot, so all you have to do is sign it and I will be on my way.” I replied, “Now, wait a goddamn minute, little lady. I ain’t a’votin her that crooked bitch!” But she continued talking, jest like I wasn’t even thar. “OK, so you probably don’t have a pen. Here, I will just sign your name for you”, she duns sed, then she signed the ballot.



“OK, thank you for voting!! I’ll be on my way now!!”, she sed as she started to walk off. Again, I protested. “HEY!! Wait a goddamn minute!! I dun TOLD YOU that I ain’t a’votin fer no corrupt bitch like Hillary Clinton!!! With an annoyed look on her face, she whipped around toward me, causing a cavalcade of jiggling from all her rolls of body fat, and demanded, “Well, do you want to vote for a Jew lover?” That hit me kind of hard. She had me thar. Knowing that she had stumped me, she smiled with satisfaction and turned to leave, which she up and dun did.



I thought to myself: A corrupt ugly leftist bitch…..er a Yankee Jew lover. Shit. Thar jest ain’t no winning. I let her go. I felt empty inside. It was like my country dun up an left me. Then I got angry. This is why I lives out in the deep, dark loins of Sasquatch Hollow; to get away from all the bullshit. I dun cast a ballot for that rotten twat, Hillary, and I didn’t even vote. “What the fuck jest happint?”, I wondered.



I signed, then took a deep slug of shine outa ma jar. “Oh well”, I dun did sed. Then I looked over at my AOC fuck toy an sed, “Well, what about it, darlin? You up fer sum more lovin?”

 

[BULLDOG]

I'm sure you think writing such a dumb story was worthwhile.

 

[Lord Long Rod]

I'm sure you think writing such a dumb story was worthwhile.

Worthwhile? No. But I enjoyed it.