Ex-Governor
Once again, I found myself blindfolded and whisked away to a secluded place. Last time, it was to meet Michael Jackson, the late King of Pop. This time, it could be anybody.
I was in the back of a luxury vehicle with a headband over my eyes. It was quiet and I could tell it was a big car because the ride was smooth and comfortable. The faint, white-noise sound of the wheels rolling along the highway kept me from going completely nuts, but still I wished they would turn on the radio.
After a long and boring trip, I was dragged into a dingy and decrepit building. There was a table pushed back into the shadows, but the man behind the table was not Michael Jackson; this guy was huge.
Then the hulking figure spoke in a thick Austrian accent, "Are you surprised to see me?"
It was Arnold Swartzenegger.
"Not really, I saw your picture on the wall over there."
He wasn't looking like a picture on this day. His skin was bleached and droopy and pocky. He was saggy like he had gained a lot of weight and suddenly lost it all.
I said, "These years of public service have really taken a toll on you."
"Yah. It killed me."
"You're not dead."
"Are you kidding? All I can do is cartoons now."
He pounded the table and made the room shudder.
"I need your help Danielle. You helped Michael. Now you must do it again."
I was beyond scared. I expected to be scared, but not like this.
"But I don't see any way it would work for you."
"It's not for me," said the Governator. "He's a friend of mine. Come out here Ronnie!"
'Ronnie' walked out. His clothes were new, but dust was dripping off the shoulders. He was moving, but his body was almost gone. Even though he was half skeleton, he was still recognizable by his signature swagger and the nervous way he had of shaking his head. His head might have been covered by patches of exposed bone, but the hair on top was lustrous, full, and jet black.
"Mr. President!" Was all I could say.
To be continued...