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Meet the Author, Scott Skipper
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Category:
Humor
Publisher: Scott Skipper
Type: Fiction
Pages: 237
Copyright: 2016
ISBN-13: 9781310153891
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Think the US presidential race is a circus? Wait until you see how Candidate Jim rocks the boat.
Jim West was the only governor of California ever removed from office by impeachment. So, what makes him think he should run for president? The truth is, he just wanted to get laid.
The California State Senate convicted Jim of treason against the state; improperly suspending habeas corpus; abuse of power; misuse of public money, falsifying his petition for candidacy, perjury, impersonating a police officer, immoral conduct, maintaining a hostile work environment, sloth and using lewd or lascivious language in the presence of a minor. That should qualify him to be president, don't you think? Remarkably, there is no Constitutional prohibition to prevent a felon from running for president, so Jim is in the race. See what happens when a fun loving old goat from Tennessee tackles the Washington establishment with the help of his team of stunning blond supporters.
It's time to restore the world order by any means available!
Excerpt
James West had the honor of being the first governor of California removed from office by impeachment. After they threw him out of Sacramento, his life had grown as placid as the Pacific that he watched undulate below the bluffs at La Jolla, never suspecting a sea change was stalking him. Since that sorry day Jim had shared the stunning seaside home of his paramour and mother of his daughter, Angel. Joyce Kenyon made her sizeable fortune in upscale Southern California real estate. Jim, who had been successful in business before running for governor, did not consider himself a kept man. Nevertheless, what Joyce wanted, she generally got.
“Jim,” she said one sunny afternoon in January when sea lions played in the kelp beds below the spacious deck, “sit down. I’ve got something to discuss with you.”
“What’s that?”
“I think you should run for president.”
Jim’s laugh was more of a wheeze, and he usually ended it with a knee slap. “Started drinking early today, didn’t you?”
“I haven’t had a drop. Just look at the fools in the race. You could whip any one of them.”
“Sweetheart, you seem to forget that I got run out of office.”
“Forget California. Most of the rest of the country loved you.”
“I don’t recall being loved too much in Washington.”
“You owe it to the country, Jim. You had California back on its feet. You gave California the best couple of years it’s had since the gold rush.”
Jim rocked on the patio chair, wheezed and slapped his knee. “Girl, we did have ‘em going, didn’t we?”
“You sure did. You solved the immigration mess, the traffic nightmare and even convinced the welfare mothers to take a free train ride out of the state. I want you to do the same for the rest of the country.”
“It ain’t never gonna happen.”
“Not if you don’t try. Jim, you’ve got a gift. You demonstrated that as governor, and you would be a great president.”
“People aren’t gonna elect a guy who got kicked out of the governor’s office.”
“Look at the fools who ran you out of office, and look where the state is now.”
“That’s just it. Folks don’t want things any better.”
“The only people who don’t want things to be better are the politicians who keep getting elected by the parasites they give our money to. You owe it to the country to do what you did for California. In a few short months you gave us Camelot. You even got the bicyclists off the sidewalks and the homeless out from under the bridges.”
Jim slapped and wheezed. “Camelot? Let me smell your breath.”
“I’m serious, Jim. The rest of the country isn’t like California. Millions of Americans want your vision for the future. You’re going to do it, and I’m going to see that you do.”
That last carried so much authority that Jim couldn’t even wheeze. “I wouldn’t know how to take the first step.”
“You do it just like Adam did when he got you started running for governor. You get that sleaze ball, Dick Rauch, back on the payroll. I know the chairman of the California Republican Advisory Committee. He’ll help us build some momentum.”
“I don’t even know where that ol’ boy Rauch is.”
“Jim, for crying out loud, you’ve got his cell phone number on your phone.”
“Oh, maybe I do, but who’s gonna pay his salary? Old Adam was loaded.”
“I am.”
“I ain’t gonna let you waste your money on some damn fool idea.”
“It’s my money, Jim. I’ll waste it on any damn fool idea I want. Now, call Rauch.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m not gonna do it, and that’s final.”
“You may regret that later tonight.”
“Now, don’t play rough with me, woman. Come on, I’ll pour you a glass of wine and get myself a little whiskey—something to take the edge off.”
Joyce accepted the wine and let several minutes pass before saying, “After you emptied the prisons of illegal immigrants and sealed the border, people thought you were a saint.”
“So, where were they when the legislature put Saint Jim on trial?”
“You know the government never listens to the will of the people once they’re elected.”
“I know it, and if, by some miracle, I did get elected, they’d do the same thing again.”
“Not if you had a Republican Congress.”
“Wouldn’t be no guarantee of that.”
“No, you don’t get any guarantees in life.”
“So, it’s a crazy idea. Forget it. I ain’t doing it.”
“Every time I remember the time you threw the president out of your office my heart still flutters.”
“Mine too. I thought the Secret Service was gonna start shootin’, but I still ain’t runnin’.”
“Jim, I get depressed when I see our country being taken from us, and turned into some socialist ghetto full of people who want to hurt us, and expect us to support them.”
“Sweetheart, the best thing you can do about that is drain that wineglass and get a refill.”
The rest of the afternoon and evening passed somewhat frostily. Later, in bed, Jim touched her on the shoulder, but she turned on her side with her back to him.
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