Excerpt
“Mr. Lampost?” Emil recognized the tone of someone who had repeated his name several times and was losing patience. Emil still had trouble thinking of himself as Mr. Lampost. That was his father’s name.

He shook his head to clear Paula and Marylynn’s tits out of his mind and tried to refocus on the debate, remembering too late that his father had warned him not to shake his head. There were too many things to remember but he tried to recall as many of his father’s rules as he could. What he said wouldn’t be nearly as important as how he looked. Try to look professional and intelligent. The public doesn’t know anything about the issues so they’ll vote for the man who looks good on TV or the one who offers them something personal, and his father expected him to do both.

He had already screwed up, grinning and shaking his head, and needed to do something big to make up for it. He smiled and pointed at the camera. “And if you select me for Mayor of Terre Bluff, I’ll reduce your taxes and propose to start the work day an hour later,” he said. That ought to be personal enough.