POSITION: MAYOR OF LOS FERNANDEZ, ALABAMA
CANDIDATE #1: (Marshal) Marshall Thomas Langhorn IV
HOMETOWN: Boston, Mississippi
SETTING: Walking at a leisurely pace and briefly looking back and forth at the camera and a dirt road that has random mini American flags scattered about like Uncle Sam's funeral procession just took place. The dirt road is also lined with empty hot dog concession carts and you can almost hear the faint echo of the legend of Toothless Tank Keithville (shouting way too loud directly into the ear of unsuspecting tourists like only Keith Tank Tooth knew how to do...if a local YMCA or municipal chapter of the Elk's Club or Moose Lodge or Alpaca Cafe (sorta like the Rainforest Cafe but a lot more bloodcurdling for families and infants are to be strictly leashed) or whatever is looking for a volunteer to assist in leading a four to seven week core course on the values of public speaking in terms of personal selling then ol' Fang Armored Car Kyleson is your dude.) Keithville mysteriously parted ways with all but one of his teeth after a jet ski waterfall jump went somewhat amiss. The legendary hot dog vendor narrowly evaded his demise, nary a scratch on him as his legendary buck teeth took the brunt of the damage. Keithville will be in the running for the position of treasurer of the township. Also, Langhorn is holding the leashes of a small family of llamas and wearing a red and green checkered fur cap. Also, the candidate looks like Red Green after a long night of partying and his inner color pallet is flux capacitating.
THE AD:
Let's be honest, whether you vote for me or not I'm still going to have this sweet necktie collection that I got for half off at Men's Wearhouse. Did I mention that I inked a four year, $11 million deal with Men's Wearhouse to be their next center of attention dude? Not to mention the five year, $13.5 million deal I just signed with Men's Warehouse...you better bet I have a whole campaign based on me riding around in a forklift and yelling at people like I own the place because now I actually do own a minor stake in the company. The only thing is that it's in my contract with both of these businesses that I am required to talk about them any time I am in front of a camera or microphone, so there it is, I just did...Are you happy Stan? Stan is my agent, that smooth sonofagun just earned an eight night, nine day stay at Club Med in Cancun with his beautiful fiance, Stacy, Jesus H. Macy am I jealous of that sonofagun Stan. Nobody tell Sheila that I was talking like this...wait, the cameras have been rolling this whole time you say? Interesting, it would have been nice for you to point that out about thirty seconds ago, Mindy.
CANDIDATE #2: Tasha Pippen
HOMETOWN: Greener Valley, Georgia (Adjacent to Green Valley, Alabama and Greenest Valley, Tennessee and not far off from Orange Hue, South Carolina, the lineal home of four/fifths of the cast of Jersey Shore, as it has since earned its nickname; the Most Annoying Town in the World or as locals prefer to refer (prefer to refer is the name of my political campaign to reduce the deficit of people referring to Jersey Shore as a terrible show...sure it's a terrible show, but it's the best terrible show and doesn't that count for anything these days? What's a guy gotta do to get a solo cup of Red Bull, vodka and steroid sweat at 11 am for chillin' at the crib Jacuzz these days? When did Ed Hardy shirts go out of style...these days? When did the tint of your tan stop mattering? Or better yet...when will the tint of your tan start mattering again? And when will the Tan Tints play the center stage of Lollapalooza again? I was in line for shaved ice last time and the kicker is they had ran out of the blue flavoring by the time I got to the front of the line so the whole festival was pretty much up in flames. Now that's what I call icing the kicker or should I say icing the shaved ice vendor? Seriously, I'm asking...hit me up on AIM with your best take and you might get a shout out on the next episode.
SETTING: Tasha is holding it down in a nursing home and having a lively one sided conversation as she interrupts a spirited round robin Canasta tournament. Except it's not just any spirited round robin Canasta tournament...it's the World Series of Old People Playing Canasta, otherwise known as the World Series of OPPC. The World Series of OPPC is an annual event that is held each year, shown on ESPN 8 The Ocho and hosted by a dude in cargo shorts and a dude with the same amount of divorces as pinky rings (several), in the town that has consumed the most chocolate pudding per capita of senior citizens. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, the hometown of the infamous Bill Cosby, held the World Series of OPPC belt (which is required to be worn nice and snug, well above the belly button, of course) for seventeen years slowly jogging (as opposed to running) (like barely above walking, if one of those speed walking judges tried to judge it, they would probably tear up their notes and toss them in the air like confetti falling on the most suspicious victory parade of all time because it just looks like everyone is trying to walk escape from the scene of a jeweler robbery with their brisk pace (a jewelry store wasn't robbed, the owner of a local jewelry shop was spotted by an off duty police officer with a burlap sack brimming to the...brim(?) with scrumptiously toasty and tasty Crispy Gordita Crunches from Taco Bell before his eyes darted around with a heavy air of paranoia and then he bounded off into the night like Bambi with the munchies (you're welcome Adult Swim, there you go, put it on the board yesssssss! Let's start the bidding at three and a half million for four seasons of Bambi with the Munchies once you can secure the copyrights from Disney, those stingy family entertaining bastards with their backwards G for a D in the logo.)
THE AD:
Hello friend. Or should I say enemy. Because you, my frenemy, will not be welcomed into my house for tea if you don't cast your bureaucratic fishing rod in the direction of my gill-less candidature (and I don't care if it is half past three o'clock on a soggy Sunday afternoon and you already have the latest episode of Downton Abbey or The Handmaid's Tale or The Crusade of the Crumpet all queued up on Netflix on your black and white Zenith cathode ray tube TV, you know the one that has a bigger back than Quasimodo after he just visited the chiropractor.) A vote for me is a vote for tea. T is for Tasha and tea is forever. I would say that it's gonna be like the Boston Tea Party but my opponent hails from Boston (Mississippi, but still let's call a wicked pissah a frickin' wicked pissah, am I right? Dang, now I'm hungry for clam chowder and heckling umpires while they try to get extra free samples at Costco...Hey guy, that's your third tiny paper cup of General Tso's chicken in the last five minutes, you're outta here!) Anyway, let's settle for the Los Fernandez Tea Party, cool? Rad, rad.
Chris's books SPONGE CAKE & WHAT'S IN THE FRIDGE? on Amazon
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