My Vote Goes To Hitler

*** continued from previous post***


Carl began to smile and then checked himself. Evidently a thought had crossed his mind and before he could open up to these travelers he had to make sure he wasn't dealing with something worse than a Republican. For all he knew I might be a member of the John Birch society. (I have been noticing quite a few unmarked helicopters flying in formation lately and it troubles me.) Or something worse. . . . the ultimate horror - a member of the Green Party.

"So," Carl said, and looked to his family for support, "who are you gonna vote for?"

“The same person I always vote for Carl," I purred.

Carl and the family exchanged glances, looking for confirmation that they hadn't missed something in the conversation. "Okay. And that would be. . .?"

"Hitler."

Mom grabbed my thigh under the table and gave me a vicious squeeze.

Evidently my voice had carried a bit in the room for conversation stopped faster than traffic at a trailer-park yard sale. The family, whose preternatural telepathic connection was humming strong at this point, looked at each other with saucer eyes. Carl started to say something, thought better, started to say something else and stopped. He tried to mouth words soundlessly but in the end simply exhaled loudly.

Martha reached over and patted my hand and giggled. She looked at her sons and said, "Now that's funny."

Carl searched my face, looking for some glint of a smile, some twinkle in my eye that perhaps his mother had seen that went unnoticed by him.

Deadpan, I shook my head in the affirmative. "It's true. Hitler."

He leaned back in his chair and the arms immediately folded across his chest. This seemed to be his natural posture.

"Hitler?” he asked incredulously?

"Yes. I always vote for Hitler. I write his name in every election."

I grinned and looked around at my dinner companions. The spectrum of emotion was on display in full force. Delicious. We had Martha giggling, and her son Mark had still not closed his mouth.

I let the grin on my face die, as if I finally understood their horror, and replaced it with a look of great concern.

"Oh. . .not THAT Hitler. Sorry. Abraham Hitler. He lives down the block from us. Never thought about it before, but that's a very unfortunate surname isn't it? Heck of a guy. Has some really good ideas concerning reformation of the current banking structure."

Blank expressions greeted me from all sides of the table, except Martha who was now laughing openly.

*** the journey continues ***