A Political Carol

McCain was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. They had a big memorial for him. Graham had even spoken there. Yes, old McCain was as dead as a doornail.

Graham was sleeping soundly. It was the middle of the night. He was alone, as always. Never married. Never seen with a social partner. Rumors swirled but nothing was confirmed. Graham just chose to live a lonely life. His only close friend was McCain and, again, McCain was as dead as a doornail.

Then, Graham’s bedroom seemed to move. Graham was undisturbed at first, but soon the shaking was unavoidable. He sat up with (and as) a jerk. There was a body standing next to his bed. He couldn’t make it out, but it looked oddly familiar.

“Hello, Lindsay,” the body said.

The voice struck a tone that Graham had heard thousands of times. So had the country. Graham rubbed his eyes and focused. “John! John McCain! Is that you? How can it be? Why?”

“Relax, Lindsay. There is more to reality than Republicans could ever imagine.”

“Whatever, John,” Graham said with a big smile, “I’m just so glad to see you. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” McCain said. “You are doing shit we would never have done when I was down there with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have become everything I wasn’t. I tried to show you how to be your own man, But, now, you’ve become a lapdog.”

“John, please. I always wanted to be you.”

“Well, you fucked that up. You are giving aid and comfort to the enemy. You know how we agreed that this Trump clown was really dangerous? Remember when he said I was no hero because I got caught? Remember how pissed off we were? Remember what you called him then? You said he was a racist and a bigot and a xenophobe. But, now, he’s your pal. Now you do his bidding. Holy Christ, Lindsay!”

“Well, you know, John. It’s just politics. We were always pragmatic politicians. He’s the President now.”

“No excuse, Lindsay. Let me show you something.”

Then the room spun. The curtains flapped. The walls seemed to disappear. John McCain’s giant shadow cast itself over Graham. Suddenly, they were standing in front of the Capitol Building, the place where the two of them had worked together so long and so well. But, it was not the same.

“What’s going on here?” Graham asked as he took in the scene. “Where are the groundskeepers? The place is overrun with weeds. The building is cracked and dilapidated. Vines are growing all over the place. I can hardly see the dome. It looks like its been ignored.”

“Of course, Lindsay. It has been. There is no Congress anymore. That ended years ago. And look across the street at the Supreme Court Building. It’s just as run down; just as ignored. There is only a President now and whatever he says, goes.”

“What are you talking about, John?”

“This is the future, Lindsay. The future you built.”

Then the spinning started again. All Graham could see was a kaleidoscope of light and then that was blocked by McCain’s shadow. When the disruption ended, they were in Times Square. But, instead of sparking lights and people hustling to wherever they wanted to go, the place was dim and gray and people were standing on long lines. Each of the lines was guarded by rifle carrying military. At the head of each line was a checkpoint. Some of the people were allowed to proceed. Others were not. It was quickly obvious that the only people let through were the white ones.

“The future?” Graham quietly asked.

“You got it, buddy,” McCain answered.

More swirling. More disruption. More of McCain’s shadow. Now, they were in a place even more familiar to Graham than the Capitol had been. Graham was home. This was South Carolina. However, instead of miles and miles of fertile and productive farmland, there was nothing but rotted dirt. Instead of busy commercial districts, there were shuttered banks and stores.

“So, what happened here?” Graham asked.

McCain answered with three words. “Your buddy’s tariffs.”

“But, none of this is what I wanted, John. I was just playing politics. And I was finally getting the spotlight. I was no longer in your shadow.”

“But, you never learned anything from my shadow. That’s why I had to bring it back.”

Before Graham could answer, he found himself back in his bed. Back alone. McCain was gone. Graham quickly arose. He looked out the window. He turned on the TV. The world was the same as he had left it the day before.

“Oh, yes. Oh, yes,” Graham cried. He laughed – an out-loud and raucous laugh. His first one since McCain had died. He made some calls to his staff and instructed them to set up a press conference as quickly as possible. Then he called Trump and repeated to him the words he had once said years before – “Mr. President, you are a racist, bigoted xenophobe and you are not going to destroy our country!” Then, he dressed and headed for the door.

“We can fix it,” he was shouting. “We can fix it. We still have time!”