🚀 go-pugleaf

Later, at the Socket Sighters clubhouse, Anghus's newly formed campaign
held its first strategy meeting.

"Well, you see," Jenn Millstrom was explaining earnestly, "we were
gonna do a write-in campaign for Great Gnuuloid, just for grins.
Then the first Morone posters went up.  Suddenly and with the
traditional no warning, we got very, _very_ serious in a big tearing
hurry!"

"That we did.  And for very good reason."  Hendrik turned to a short
spectacled young man standing beside him.

"Stats, help me out here.  Of the Kappa Grabbans, and their sister
sorority the Episilon Zetas, how many members are eligible and
registered to vote?"

"Grand total?  Alums and current members, 503."

"And how many people voted in the last town election?"

"417, counting absentee ballots and all."

Anghus paled.  "So all the Kappa Grabbans have to do is get 100%
voter turnout, and Yobbo is a shoe-in.  Argh!"

"Hang on Anghus, we've got a plan."  Hendrik looked to Stats again.
"OK, what about us?"

"Well, currently?  Seventeen.  But we've still got 3 weeks left to
register."

"Right.  And how many eligible members do we have to get signed up in
that time?"

"Potentially?  9,687."

"What?!" yelped Anghus.

"That's right.  9,687."  Stats grinned.  Hey, we're a cult following,
remember?  We give free memberships for carrot cake jumping."

"Wow... I had no idea there were so many of us!"

"Yeah, it is kinda amazing, innit?"  Drik gave him a friendly grin,
then took up his clipboard and started checking things off.
"Right.  Well, we've got our work cut out here, people!  We have to
have a club meeting immediately!  Poster Crew - "

Two guys and Blarney (now out of Drag) looked up.  "That's us..."

"You know the drill.  run by Ginko's, copy the fliers out, get 'em up
ASAP.  This meeting's got to go on by tomorrow afternoon.  Chairfolk,
call your Team Leaders, get the phone trees going.  We may miss a few
on such short notice, but I want maximun coverage!

Programing!"

"Yo, boss."  A heavyset Junior looked up at him through bottle thick
lenses.

"I need you and all the Traffic crew to copy Voter Registration forms.
Work in shifts, stay up all night if you have to, but by 3:00 tomorrow,
I want 10,000 forms available to be filled out!"

"That's a tall order, Drik.  But we're goin' for it.  See you
tomorrow..."

A voice from the back of the room spoke up.  "Um.  Excuse me?  I think
I can help..."

"Who's that?  Ah, Jones.  What can you do for us, Jason?"

"Well, to start, how about this?"  Jason stood, picked up the
Registration form and blinked at it.  "Wait.  Need some blank
paper...."  Wordlessly, Jenn handed him a stack.  "Here.  Look."

Jason began lifting pages, blinking at them and setting them back down,
full.

"Great Gnu!  He's duplicating it by looking at it!  And they're exact!"

"Change plan!  Programing, Traffic, break out the blank paper and keep
it coming.  Organize teams to stack new forms in bundles of 20.  Louie,
go out for some eyedrops, he may need 'em!  Stats, call for pizza - "
Drik took a deep breath, paused, then said slowly, "and you, Jason.
Tell me how in Author's Name you _do_ that....?"

"Um, well....  Would you believe, I'm a superguy?"

"Man," said Drik, looking at the rapidly growing pile of forms, "this
is weird enough, I'd believe you were Elvis himself!"

                        *       *       *

24 hours later, at the Socket Sighter's emergency meeting out on the
Chill Field -

Hendrik held up his hand and the crowd quieted.

"Nenes and Genmamen!  Socket Sighters is pleased to announce our
sponsorship of the new write-in candidate for Mayor of Eeksburg,
Mister Anghus McPeerson!"

A massive surge of cheers, yells and whistles rose from the group.
"Yay, Anghus!  Boo, Morone!"

Drik leaned in near the microphone.  "OK, people, this is more than
just a jihad against a certain Kappa Grabban.  This is a campaign
_for_ our own People's Choice candidate.  That means, we need
every single one of _you_, the people, to get registered and then
get out there and vote!"

"YAY!!"  "Tell 'em Drik!"

So divide up into your teams, folks, and pick up your registration
forms!"

"YAYYAYYAYYAYYAY!!!"

Beside them on the podium, Stats shook his head.  "Drik, you do
realize this is a logistical nightmare..."

"C'mon, Stanos, it's no worse than co-ordinating parking on Catbunny
Day!"

Stanos "Stats" Andretti grinned.  "Optimist.  Still, we do have
experience that way..."  His frown lines lightened observably.  "OK,
let's see..."

Out on the field, Magenta, Cyan and Indigo groups were dividing out
into their respective teams, as the Team 1 leader started reading off
names.

"Aaron, Emily.  Come up and get your form.  Thanks.  Keep going to the
other side of the line...  Abernathy, Morris.  Aconto, Imuri.
Adeste, Fidie.  Ai, Chun Yee.  Albert, Gina.  Albert, Zandra.
Amos, Eben....."

"Hey, I'm already registered!"

"Good!  Help me pass out these forms, then.  Antonazios, Luis..."

                         *       *       *

Later that evening -

Stats set down the phone and sighed.  "Well, Yobbo refuses to debate
Anghus.  he says, quote, "You Socket Sighters and yer pet geek are scum.
Frag off. Unquote."  Stats shook his head.

"Figured as much.  That's OK, he won't sound so sure of himself on the
5th.  It'll be our turn, then.  So, what about Councilman Schwubb?"
Drik queried.

"The same, but politer.  He declined, having a previous engagement."

"Yeah, it's with his bridge club.  I know, my Aunt Caro's a member.
Well, we'll just have to get Anghus out there on his own, that's all.
Drik turned to Jenn.  "How's the carrot cake supply holding up?"

"We defrosted 750 backup cakes from the walkin, and tripled our
regular weekly order.  Yeaster's has contracted out with Bunrunner
and Leavin's Worth, they'll try to get it to us in time for the
rally."

"Cool.  How's the cider supply?"

"They'll deliver Friday."

"Great.  Good work, crew!"  Drik smiled wearily at them all.  "We'll
pull this off yet!"

                         *       *       *

Town Clerk Madge Shumwalt arrived that Monday for what she fully
expected to be another boring day at work, and was stunned to find the
sidewalk lined with people wearing blue armbands and holding filled out
Voter Registration forms.

She hustled inside and got on the phone.  "Charlie, get down here right
away!  Yeah, I _know_ it's your golf day.  This is an emergency!  We got
100 people all down the sidewalk waiting to register, and they say then
next 100's arriving in an hour.  Help!  You will?  Whew.  Thanks, I owe
you.  See you soon."

She went out to the front desk.  "Ladies and gentlemen, more staff will
be arriving shortly.  Meanwhile, to expedite this process, please have
your IDs ready when your turn arrives.  Thank you."  Determinedly she
began signing them in.

                       *       *       *

Charlie looked up bleary eyed as Madge closed the door.  "753,
Madge!  Seven hundred and fifty frinkin' three!  Who _are_ these
people, the League of Mutant Voters?"

"The Socket Sighters.  They're having a Get Out the Vote,
apparently..."

"I'll say!  You realize they just doubled the registered voting
population of this town, in one day?"

"Yes.  And they say there'll be as many more, tommorow."

"Good Author, Madge!  We're barely gettin' them checked in at this
rate.  How are we going to get them all typed into the roster?"

"We're going to use the emergency fund and hire some temp staff,
that's what!  The fastest typists I can find!"

"Thank Elvis!  Maybe we'll survive this after all."

                         *       *       *

"It's up on the town web page," Jenn announced.  "Immediate interviews
for temp staff typists, 70 words a minute minimum, 90% accuracy
required.  Rumor has it that the Epsilon Zeta typing pool's applying.
They've got the 9 a.m. interview spot, my nephew Jared says."

Drik smiled over at her.  "That kid's got a great future as a
scandalrag reporter.  He gets all the latest news before it's hardly
out of people's thoughts, much less their mouths!  Good thing for us,
too.  Did you get Jason the 10:00 interview?"

Jenn nodded.  "Done and in.  I think Ms. Shumwalt's gonna drop her jaw
when she sees what he can do, just as much as we did.  Wish I could be
there to watch."

Drik reached over and thumped Jason on the shoulder.  "You're our ace
in the hole, bro.  Ordinary human typing speed just isn't fast enough
to get all these new registrations entered in the rolls in time.  But
with you in as a temp clerical worker, we stand a chance. I know it's
boring as 666NastyNastyNasty, but it's for a good cause.  Think you
can stand it?"

"I'll do my possible."

Hendrik nodded.  "More than that, I can't ask."

                     *       *       *

The Town Clerk kept her expression under control as the boxes of forms
to be processed built steadily, like an embattled fortress, around her.
Still, Jason could see she was unconsciously clenching her hands at her
sides.  She eyed him sceptically.

"Mister Jones.  And just why should we hire you over the bid made by the
Epsilon Zeta team?"

"Well, because there's 24 of them to pay, and only one of me.  And,
I'm just as fast."

"You're....just....as fast.  24 people typing an average of 80 words
per minute with 92% accuracy, and you, _alone_, claim to be just as fast?
This I have got to see..."

"Absolutely.  Here.  Watch."

Jason picked up the sample registration form, looked at it and blinked.
Then he looked at the computer screen and blinked again.  "There."

"What do you mean, _there_?  You never even touched the keyboard!"

"Nevertheless.  Look."  Jason stood, and swept a bow toward the screen.
All the data from the form was now entered into the computer, right down
to the last period.

The supervisor's jaw dropped.  That's.... why, that's amazing!  How long
can you keep it up?"

"All day, if need be."

Madge Shumwalt stared at the rapidly building pile of paperwork and then
at Jason.  "Mister Jones, you're hired!  Fifteen dollars an hour,
starting now! Sit right down and get to work, sir!"

Jason grinned.  "Yes, ma'am!"  Undaunted, he took up the first handful of
forms, and started blinking.

                        *       *       *

Three weeks later -

Hooper Gallway III stomped gloomily through the Kappa Grabba frat house.
Finally he found his peerless leader passed out on a couch in the midst
of a truly prodigeous pile of beer cans.  Yobbo Morone snored like a
chainsaw's mating call.  Hooper grimaced and shook him by the shoulder.

"Yobbo, wake up!"

"Bwah?  Go 'way..."

"Bad news, Yobbo, they're onto us."

"Huh?  Who are?"

"The Socket Sighters."

"Those nutcases?  Who cares?  Not like _they_ can do anything."

"Guess again," said Hooper, and the grimness of his tone finally
penetrated into Yobbo's beer soaked brain.  "Huh?  Wazzup?"

"The Sighters have fielded a candidate."

"Yeah, yeah, skinny geek ticket seller from the Lyrick.  Big deal.
You wake me up to tell me that?"

"No.  To tell you that as of today, when registration closed, every
single one of their eligible voters had registered."

"So?  They got what, 27?"

"Yobbo, they got hundreds!"

"What!"

"I dunno how many exactly."

"Why not, our team of EZ spies in Town Hall - "

"Never got hired.  I told you.  Remember?"

"Crap!"  Yobbo stared blearily.  "Then who did?"

"Some guy named Jones.  They say he's amazingly fast.  He got all
the paperwork caught up by 6 p.m.  They're in, Yobbo.  They're
registered, all of 'em!"

"Then get out there and buy some of them off!"

"We tried," said Hooper gloomily.  "They laughed in our faces.
I don't think this is gonna go as planned, big guy.  The shoe-in
may be on the other foot."


SO!  WILL ANGHUS SOCKET TO THE KAPPA GRABBANS?

WHICH SIDE HAS THIS SHOE-IN ALL LACED UP?
WHO WILL BE THE SOLE SURVIVOR,
THE WINNER OF THIS FASTRUNNING CAMPAIGN?

[Jason - Can I kill the joke writer _now_?
Speedex - No, Authors are beyond even YOUR powers!
Jason - DANG!]

TO BE CONTINUED IN THE ELECTION NIGHT SPECIAL EDITION!


Copyright 1996 BY Peg Fisher   All characters are fictional.