Cedar Grove, Mississippi
August 4th, 1959
An ancient looking creature blinked up at the skies outside of the two story-rich in culture but poor in overall planning and workmanship shack that creaked when he laid his arm beside the structure. He had built the home here with his own two hands and with the generosity of his neighbors. He again squinted at the dry, southern air and skies that filled his vision before fiddling with a lock on the cellar.
Struggling for a solid few minutes outside with the mechanical dragon that was his security system, he beamed with a triumphant war cry of "ah-hwa-haw" as he metallic beast was slain and he stood triumphant over the lock under the elder's foot. Swinging open the cellar doors the natural light was shone on in as he looked at the miles of alcohol that was in his basement. The old man cackled as he took a few steps to glance out at an acceptable 'pre celebration' bottle. He had the run of the mill green bottles of champagne, red bottles of whiskey and tinted metallic buckets filled to the brim with rum imported off of the coast of Mississippi from his brief-time as a rum-runner during prohibition. He fondly remembered the rumbuxious all white's parties he had at his church, and how he could simply stuff the pockets of the local law men that tried to have a peek at his liquor supply. Now that Prohibition was long, long over, he admired his handiwork and volume of liquor in his possetion.
He knew he couldn't drink all of it, but it would be enough to get him through his regular grind of Senatorial bullshit. Eyeing the perfect crimson red bottle of whiskey and a black one that held the bourbons of Kentucky like the mana from heaven that the good old book blabbed on and on about, he gingerly cradled both in his arms like new born grandsons and hummed to himself as he entered the kitchen where his wife was cutting onions.
"Oh, y'all gots some Whiskey n' Bourbon Joshie,? Who'd ya piss off this time?"
"Hush, Val. It's a cel-lee-bration."
"Celebration? Well what are we-a celebratin' Joshua?"
"Uh, I'm not sure, but it's a beautiful day outside and I'm content to spend it indoors with you with the shades drawn back." Sharp muttered behind her back as she reached into the cabinet to reveal two shot glasses. With a smile on the old senator's face, he watched as his wife did was she was best at, which was staying the kitchen and being seen but not heard, like all women ought to do in Sharp's opinion.
"A toast, to Val, the kindest wimmen I have known t' love inna my life, which is good, because she's the only woman I've known t' love inna my life. Cheers!"
"To Joshua, one of the most friendly and dare I say it, handsomest man in all o' Cedar Grove and Mississippi. Cheers!"
Their glasses both chinked nicely as both quickly downed their daily recommended dosages of the sin juice that his church taught them both about.
"Y'know Val, this is nice. It's the nicest inna long while. I know I've gotta pree-pare the Harvest and chat wit me staff n' what have all y'all, but just for a moment. It's nice.." Sharp trailed off, looking out at the sprouting cotton and wheat fields that he proudly grew outside the window. With that, Senator Sharp looked in her eyes and wondered.
"Do-"
His sentence was interrupted by a flurry of knocks at the door. If Sharp had any luck it was the Klan mobilizing a lynching for his ass. When he opened the door, war rifle in hand he took notice of his campaign manager Trevor Wilson Chamberlain and a few associates of the Sharp Senatorial re-election campaign looking out there.
"Trevar?" He quickly shooed them into his house and shut the door, locking it behind as the party of Mississippians helped themselves to Velma's fine cooking and got comfortable around an armband of possible campaign materials, catchy slogans, buttons, flyers and even a marble bust of Jefferson Davis on one side and Sharp on the other.
The First thing that caught Sharp's attention was the Senate poll that was recently published.
"I am behind, but look... UP ONE! Hot damn, we're catchin' up fast on that som-bitch, uh, Dunderhead. I'm..I'm so happy right now." Sharp began to shed tears of joy. He was doing thing right in his life. He may have still been behind, but it was far better than even most on his campaign staff had dreaded until the AP poll dropped in the morning paper. They were seriously wondering if they needed to find new jobs. Still, being an incumbent at this rate was still a very dangerous sign to Sharp holding onto his own seat.
"Senator." Began Thatcher bluntly. "Y'all need to git on out there n' have those poor fellers back you. Share your story, go inna dee-tail 'bout yer war glories n' shit like that n' drive a steak through Davis's heart."
"I didn't know Davis resigned the Presidency to go commit political suicide inna M'ssiippii? I know he sleeps with men but goddamn!"
"No, be a political hatchet against him. You've worked hard for Mississippi. You haven't quit on us, and I'm not going to quit on you. (at least not until your checks bounce)" Thatcher muttered the last part under his breath so the seventy year old senator sharp couldn't hear it before continuing to talk strategy.
"So, I know you've got the support of the farmers. And your neighbors. I had a nice lil' chat wit all o' 'em and they say you've done incredibly well for them in the Senate. They don't have much nasty to say bout your ass anyhow. We need to convert everyone into Mississippi into yer neighbor. Y'all need to emphasize everything you've done for Mississippi over the years. You don't do nothin' Sharp. You're in your words, Stingin' Sharp."
Velma poured the men some lemonade and Thatcher gestured appreciatively at the senator's wife, who smiled back with politness.
"Much obliged Val." Sharp began in response, toothily grinning at the woman he married before turning his attention back to politics.
"Now, What I need to do is dredge up the past. Talk about every single vote I've done and explain my position on them. At least the major votes that people heard about. Tell 'em why you voted no or yes or didn't vote at all."
Sharp baulcked at the idea for a moment before shrugging. "You're an idiot. That's why you're my campaign manager. I'll state my position on the major bills, not everyone. No-one gives a damn about my vote on some watering hole in Arkansas or the tariffs between states n' arbitratin' lil' ol' disputes 'tween fuedin' families. Oh, and I'll take questions at the-end."
Thatcher's face lit up with alarm. 'this man is going to shoot himself in the foot again' He thought before interjecting forcefully in the conversation. "With all due respect, Senator, that course of action is ill-advised. Y'all best 'member what happened when you looked like an ass on Vietnam. Now with that recent bombin' n' maimin' of american forces out there, it's a weak spot fer you. If yer gonna take questions, let us rifle through some easy ones fer ya, softballies if y'alled mind the term."
"No, I don't wanna seem like I is a coached like some negro bastard. I ain't a damned whip riddled negro that just says what thems fellers wanna hears. I wanna be surprised by thems questions. It's like actin' but with real ee-motions attached to 'em."
Thatcher was equally blunt to the old politician. "Senator, you're going to kick your own ass by goin' off onna tirade against one o' 'em. You're goin' t' lose this race if y'all don't let us rig it for you."
"No, I am goin' t' win my Senate race against this here...Dunderhead mcgee. I'll win it fair n' square. Don't y'all dare rig no ballot boxes. I was with Boone the other night and he's promised us the big guns. We're atta truce right now and dare I say, a detente inna relations with the Majority Whip. We oughta take full advantage o' this here situation."
Thatcher sat up, looking a little surprised.
"My God Joshua, you've grown smarter for once. Alright then, I'll git in touch wit members of the Sheep Breeders Association of Mississippi. Those fellers slobber all o'er you. I'd advise some pepper spray or a good hearty pistol myself. But we're also going to git some fellers that don't even know who y'all are. Those are undecided felleers. Y'all need t' do two fold-"
"I know. I need to hold onto the sheep fuckin' racists n' the indy-pendents. I've seen mien kampf! I know how this ends."
The Staff looked a little shocked as one aide whispered to one another "Does he know mien kampf is a book right, and it's in german?"
"Maybe he's smart enough to read german, hell if I know. I was amazed he could put together a coherent sentence!" With that, Sharp's campaign managers and associates left his Plantation home and drove off to get everything ready for tonight's speech.
--
Cedar Grove
8:00 PM
The night sky was beautiful tonight. While Sharp had initially wanted the speech to take place in the mid-afternoon, his campaign advisers instead urged him to hold the rally at night. In order to lure not just the political die-hards of the Mississippi Sheep Breeders Association, there would be food there. Lots of food. Sharp was still a cheapskate, so he delegated the task to his wife in preparing all sorts of meals. She, in turn got the help of all the neighborhood wives in the monumental task of creating a feast for a potential horde or army of people. A massive banner was strewn across the side of the Sharp's humble aboade that read: SENATOR SHARP WELCOMES MEMBERS OF THE MSBA AND NEIGHBORS
Indeed, the smell of brisket cooking from Sharp's outdoor grill was almost enough to make those guests hungry enough almost storm the castle and ransack through his stuff for the good food. Sharp was thankful that a little more restraint was shown, and he had the help of the local police to ensure his house wasn't ransacked by a hungry mob. He was a sitting U.S Senator after all, and had a light security detail attached.
The round portfolio that would easily have been mistaken for one of the roasting pigs on the table of Trevor Wilson Chamberlain came up onto Sharp's back porch where the rally was being held.
"How's the food? Good? It better be good for the eleven cents per person we're chargin'. Why'd we put it at eleven n' not eighteen? Because we're decent folks that don't wanna see y'all pay too much fer yer coke n' yer drinky drink. Oh, and Sharp's gonna sell stocks o' his fine liquor. Ten bucks a case to raise money for Sharp's own charitable association. It's called the Joshua Sharp Foundation for giving this old bastard cash. Very noble indeed, eh? We're giving nintey percent of the proceeds to our bottom line. Ok, I jest of course. It's goin' to hep out Mississippi's oldest natural resource.
The Senator himself! nine o' yer pennies is a flowin' t' sharp's campaign, one penny's goin' inna my pocket fer organizin' this shit, n' the other one's coverin' all this food we bought. That's enough stallin' onna my end. I'll give y'all the man y'alved been a h'watin' fer. In this corner, weighin in at over one hundred and somethin' pounds, standin' straight up six feet, hunched o'er five foot 'leven, He's the Savior of the White Race, it's practical progenitor and the master of the whip! I give all y'all THE ONE, THE ONLY, THE CRAZY, who the hell wrote this shit? JOSHUA NORTON SHARP!"
The crowd erupted in a mixture of crazy cheers for the seventy three year old who now appeared from behind the red curtain set up to polite apathetic clapping from the more subdued undecided voters that had shown up too.
"A Hot damn thank you to Trevar and a big, Mississippi welcome to my best friends and family in Mississippi Sheep Breeder's Association! Oh, and thank you undecideds to show on up here too. If I don't change yer minds onna issues, keep this in mind, y'all got some of the best BBQ this side of Mississippi! Now, I know I have been on the campaign trail many a time in my life. I've got this good, good thing to say about the other senator from Mississippi. I thank Turner. Frank was a good fellow at some point. He helped me out inna my Senate Seat when most of you decided to take a chance on this ol' farmer turned soldier turned lawyer turned representative turned private citizen. That's the quickest way o' describin' my life without borin' all y'all.
However, that's about the last good thing y'all will hear from me onna my lips about the other senator from Mississippi. He loathes me. I'm not quite sure why. I'm a great ol' farmer to be around on many a time. Lots of y'alls loves my ass, and I reciprocate that there love by invitin' sheep breedin' lobbyists inna my office every time. Oh, and the average joe too. I do not shy away from a client, be they black or white or gay or straight or homeless. My gaurd gives 'em the pat down lest it's a shootin' kind of disgruntlement with my work as a Senator, that's for damn sure! I have always been attentive to the issues and concerns that the people of my state bring to my office. I represent you fellers inna the Senate for eleven long years now. My senate doors are never closed to anyone, no matter how crazy you are. So long as it ain't no ass-ass anation 'tempt onna my life!
I send all y'all pamphlets and letters that explain my actions for the votes I take and ask that you support my senate bids. Gotta make use of that franking privlledge now, y'hear? Free postage to my constituents is free postage, and I don'ts gots t' pays fer nunnavits. It's great. In these pamphlets I make sure to explain the reason why I voted against a bill. Take this pamphlet which I posted right after sayin' nay to D.C Statehood. I quote:
'I am well aware of the controversy that my decision has recently come under with respect to the question of Statehood for D.C. But I will make sure you are all aware of my objections to it. I objected to the statehood of our nation's capital not because I hate democracy but because I love liberty. It's the liberty of movement. If they want to have a fourty-five minute commute to Virginia or Maryland, that is their god-given right to do so. It is the Liberty of sayin if I wanna be taxed with representation, I will make the choice to move to a neighboring state'.
I explained my position of the bill clearly. That's what normal fellers like Turner do when they git in some hot shit fer fuckin' o'er the poor Americans. I shall also make evident my more recent votes in the Senate. I voted against my good, good friend Earl's unfortunately thought out wealth tax because it would have harmed not the richest of Mississippians, but the poorest too. It would harm everyone in Mississippi. However, I have his word that he'll work on it to be less of a burden on the state government. For that I'm real glad of Warl. I mean Earl, my head slipped fer a moment.
My political actions while in office are designed to help out Mississippi and her people. Hell, that's why all y'all voted my ass inna office too, A total of six time! Four in the House where I hepped out fellers like yerselves in the cotton bizness. I took an axe to that damn New Deal Cripple that's for damn sure. I followed him everywhere, hell I coulda been the man who shot FDR! Oh, FDR wasn't shot? He died from the flu n' bein' ol' n' shit like that? Oh. I coulda been the man who cursed FDR to have polio.
There have been many times I have been wrong about what your needs are, unfortunately. I am only human, of course, so this old dinosaur is makin' it's mistakes. I do what I do in this office not on behalf of rich billionaires who I like to send pamphlets to, It's about all y'all. It's about ol' Miss. I'm here to state clearly and obviously that I am here for Mississippi. If anyone has any questions about my integrity, the presidential race which I am currently a little behind in, or if y'all have some comments, even if it's a stupid question, I will answer it. My advisors said that I needed to be coached on questions. I say that's bullshit. What Senator or even politician would I be if I was a phony in the terms of political experience? Ask away I say!"
" Dumbass, you'd be A good politician.." Trevor Wilson Chamberlain bitterly muttered under his breath as he tried to organize the flurry of hands that rose following the Senator's speech.
