On the evening of Dec. 29, 2021, Senator Joe Manchin (D-W.Va.) slept all alone in his riverside home in Charleston, while his wife Gayle visited relatives in another state.
Joe tossed and turned, monosyllabic sounds arising from his nightmare about Harry Reid, recently departed Democratic Senator from Nevada. Joe shuddered as he woke up and eyed the room.
“Yes, it’s me, Joe,” said a spectral Harry Reid donned in pale translucent fluttering robes.
“What, the … !” screamed Joe. “Whew! Must have been something I ate.” He rolled over in bed.
“No, Joe, it wasn’t.”
Joe swiveled around and sat up on the edge. “What is this, some kind of AOC joke? Trying to scare me into voting for BBB? I already told you people I won’t do it!”
“No, joke, Joe. I have a new role now—the Ghost of Build Back Better Past and Future.”
“What do you want with me?”Joe said.
“I’m going to reveal your future to you, Joe, so you will know what awaits if you continue on your past and current path.”
“The hell you will—you can’t make me change my mind. I won’t do it,” he hollered and pounded his fists on the bed.
“Shut up and watch, Joe.”
Suddenly they were catapulted up and over a lush park dotted with hickory, oak, and sugar maple trees in Farmington, West Virginia, the place of Manchin’s birth.
“What’s this?” Joe asked, as they glided in for a close-up.
“Your funeral, Joe. It’s 2032.” Rain was falling lightly.
“My f-f-f-?”
“Yes. Let’s listen in.”
Three men stood off to the side—billionaire donor Nelson Peltz, Senator Chris Coons and Senator Ted Cruz.
“Too bad about his yacht,” said Peltz. “It was a beauty.”
“We had some good times on ‘Almost Heaven,’ didn’t we?” said Coons.
“That sucker burned really fast—do they even know what caused the fire? Poor Joe, he never had a chance,” said Cruz.
“Whaaa? I burned to death … on my own houseboat? It was not a yacht, dammit.”
“The $750,000 price tag says otherwise.”
The rain continued to pick up speed.
When he saw several of his grandchildren, Joseph V, Sophie, Kelsey and Beaux, Joe III began to cry. “Oh, no,” he said and let his head fall into his hands.
“He could have done something to stop the destruction,” said Joseph V. “But, no, he was always preoccupied with his damn coal stock. Now look at us—we can’t live where we want because of the flooding, stores closing, people out of work.”
“He never gave poor kids a chance,” said Sophie. “He claimed he was concerned about children, but behind closed doors he said that if the government gave money to families for their children they’d just spend it on drugs, or skip work and go hunting or something. Grandpa was an embarrassment.”
The rain pelted the crowd, accompanied by thunder and lightning.
“No! I can’t believe she just said that. I gave my grandkids whatever they wanted.”
“Except clean air, clean water and land they could live on, and good paying green non-coal jobs. You had your chance to stave off all this destruction, but …”
“Now what?” he said, squinting as his casket was being lowered to into the muddy grave. “Are those flowers they’re throwing?”
“That’s coal, Joe, lumps and lumps of coal. That’s what they think of you and your so-called legacy.”
“No, no no! It’s not right! I gave them everything, everything!”
“I’m going to leave you now, Joe,” said Harry. “Don’t say you haven’t been warned.”
The next day Joe called President Biden and Chuck Schumer. They agreed on a budget he could vote for. The next day, Joe tendered his resignation.
When President Biden heard the news, he turned his eyes upward and said, “Good work, Harry.”
Rosie Sorenson is a humor writer in the San Francisco Bay Area. You can contact her at: RosieSorenson29@yahoo.com
From The Progressive Populist, February 1, 2022
Blog | Current Issue | Back Issues | Essays | Links
About the Progressive Populist | How to Subscribe | How to Contact Us