Lost in the Woods: The GOP

The early spring sun hovered just above the horizon. Soon it would be pitch black; even the moon and stars would be blocked out by the twig canopy of the trees. In the mean time, long, ominous shadows were cast in this remote part of the Appalachian Mountains. They were hiking the trail, but decided an off-beat path was the most direct route to Interstate 66, which would have led directly to Constitution Avenue in Washington.

“Maverick!” Sarah Palin exclaimed. “Isn’t that what they call you, John? Fucking Maverick? Like you’re in fucking Top Gun? Thanks to you we are all gonna die out here. Thanks, John. Thanks a lot.” Palin was constantly stumbling. With every step she took, the heel of her stilettos sank deep into the moist soil.

“Jesus Christ, I thought you knew what you were doing. Did being tortured make you forget all your Vietnam survival training or are you just a senile old piece of mummy shit!”

“Back off,” John McCain started. “You Arctic hillbilly she-wolf. So help me…if you don’t stop your incessant bitching I will end you. Right here. In front of Jindal, Steele and God I will fucking end your life.”

“Yeah I’d like to see your decrepit body just try and”- Sarah began, but was cut short when she tripped over a tree root. She landed face down in the cakey mud. Jindal and Steele rushed over to help her up. John McCain remained inanimate. He loomed over the scene disapprovingly with his arms crossed and neck tie serving as a makeshift headband; its tail caught in the wind. Michael Steele copped a quick feel of Palin’s ass.

“Off me…GET OFF ME YOU NOBODIES!” Sarah was now in full-blown crying tantrum mode. “I never wanted any of this! I used to be in beauty pageants! I was a somebody! But you, you, assholes had to drag me out here! It’s all your fault! Now my hair’s a mess, my clothes and makeup are ruined, my daughters a mommy and everyone thinks I’m stupiiiiiiii”- her rant cut off by her own, uncontrollable sobbing.

“Please, don’t cry Sarah. It’s going to be alright. Everything is going to be fine” Said Bobby Jindal. McCain snorted “this is bullshit” under his breath while Steele remained ominously silent.


“Oh, what the hell do you know, Apu? You sound like a cross between Clarice Starling and Kermit the goddamn Frog. Get the fuck out of my country.”

“Ms. Sarah, please” Jindal pleaded.

“’Oh yehs yehs, verry goot. Verry goot. Yoo dumb fellow, Mr. Obama. Yoo verry verry dumb. I quit your policies. I quit them 1000 times!’ you fucking paki.”

McCain grew tense. “Quiet, the both of you. Shut up. It’s getting dark. We need to start a fire if we’re going to survive this.”

Steele finally found the balls to talk. “Yes, brilliant thinking. True innovation. I agree with and fully support John on this idea.”

“Ok, good. Bobby, come here and give me your matches. We’re gonna clear a pit for a fire and camp around it for the night. Sarah, if you can manage to keep your fucking mouth shut for 5 minutes that would greatly help all of us. Michael, go out and find some fire wood.”

“Heeeeeey,” Steele pouted as his face sank. “I’m supposta be leadin’ this expedition.”

“Just shut up and do it you fucking cracker.”

…………………………………………………

It was day 6 and there was still no sign of civilization. The group was wearing very thin; thin on food, thin on energy, thin on hope. The only things they had an over abundance on were flies, skin rashes and hate. The sun was looking directly down on their heads as they baked in their own stew. The only one who seemed complacent was Steele. He was waiting for sweet release of death, and he anticipated it with a knowing smirk.

McCain was at his breaking point. He’s been in this situation before, holed up in the Hanoi Hilton where desperate men did desperate things. The next move was his, and he made this play before. Through his beady eyes he sized up his comrades. Jindal was lean and stringy, but still full of life. Taking him down would be a difficult challenge. Someone that young and strong would surely serve as a better ally than enemy. For now.

Palin was out like a doped up disco queen, sprawled out over a fallen log, muttering nonsensical half-phrases to herself, completely oblivious to the world around her. Easy prey. But a mildly attractive lady whose body can still put out, and certainly in her present, absent minded condition, would be a very powerful trading tool should they ever make it to the road and barter with a lonely, horny trucker. Better save her.

That just left Steele. Poor, poor, flabby, dopey Steele. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. And no one would ever miss him. He’s an idiot. Just look at him. That bald fucker actually said “bling” in a press conference. The imbecile.

“Pssst, Bobby. Bobby” McCain whispered. “Bobby, this has gone long enough. We need to feed. We need energy to sustain ourselves.”

“Yes, Senator. I agree with your logic. It’s very good logic. But there’s just one little problem: There’s nothing around to eat.”

“Oh I think we can find….something.” McCain stared directly at Steele, who was staring directly at the sun, smiling. Jindal wearily followed McCain’s line of sight to Steele. His eyes widened when John’s plan dawned upon him.

“No…”

“Yes.”

“No, John you can’t be serious.”

“Oh…oh Jesus. Oh Jesus!” Palin was talking in her sleep.

“Serious as one of my heart attacks.” He licked his lips. “Look, you’re new here, so let me explain to you how politics work. The goal is to not to do a great job; the goal is to just do the job. It’s all about survival. That is how this country is run and has been running since 1492. You do what you must to survive in this business. You do what needs to be done.”

The word “business” echoed in Jindal’s mind. “And if that means throwing someone under the bus, you just do it? Moral consequences be damned? Legal ramifications…fuck ‘em?”

“We’ll first off, we’re not just throwing him under the bus. I have nothing but the greatest respect for the tools I use. Think of this as, well, more of a sacrifice. He will be a sacrifice to our party. He goes down so that the rest of us may rise. And shit, son. Consequences and ramifications don’t mean diddly poop when you’re as powerful as us. Besides, he’s not a survivor. He was bound to die on this track anyway.”

Jindal took a moment to soak up everything that’s been said. In this dire situation, no one was safe. He accepted that this was the worst of Murphy’s Law and Natural Selection combined, even though is convictions as an Evangelical denounces both of those processes. He stared at Steele, and Steele stared back, smiling.

“Bling bling, my homies” said Steel out loud.

“Alright,” Jindal whispered to McCain. “You go high and I’ll go low. Still have that Bowie knife Barbra Bush gave you?”

“Right above my Wingtips.” He was referring to the knife holster on his right ankle.

“When I say Go, I’m going to rush him and pin him to the tree. You follow and when you get the chance, slice the pig’s throat.”

“Spill his blooooood!” Palin wailed.

“On my mark…” Jindal started. “Get set…” McCain’s eye involuntarily twitched.

“What’s crackin’, dawgs?”

“Go!”