Mike Huckabee Fan-fiction: Huckabee Vacation - Chapter 1, David

David pulled apart his crusted eyelids. His older brother was mere inches from his face. He shoved John back towards the other side of the bed, wiping away the drool his kiss had left behind on his forehead. This surprised John, causing him to accidentally release a fart he had been holding in since remembering they were about to leave for vacation. David instinctively began to time the fart to see how many seconds it lasted. They kept a log so they could have a rough estimate of how much their bodies helped contribute to global warming each year. Their father sent the results in a letter to Al Gore every Christmas.

He climbed out of bed while John retreated under the covers to enjoy a few more seconds of the odor, a ritual David didn’t understand, but respected. He quietly exited the room to allow his brother a moment of peace.

He knew he had to hurry. He still needed to finish packing, bathe and masturbate to the most recent episode of Top Chef all before the family’s 3p.m. departure. The time had been pushed back from their ambitious 11 a.m. goal after Janet successfully argued that the boys would be grouchy without their usual twelve hours of sleep. It still wasn’t enough time, he realized, as he traversed the house at a hurried pace.

Their home consisted of many rooms, but only one bathroom included a shower. The door to this particular room was locked. There was no time to wait for whoever was inside to finish. Teeming with frustration, he rushed down the stairs, out the patio door, straight to the garden.

One by one he peeled off his many layers of clothing, removing everything save his socks, and turned the knob for the garden hose. He took a long drink, savoring the metallic flavor of the hose’s water. He stuck his tongue down through its opening, making a circular motion as water dribbled down his chin. He felt wild and unpredictable. Vacation had truly begun.

He turned the hose to his body, rinsing each section in the same order his mother has bathed him in from birth until age 21. About halfway through his routine, he noticed a squirrel staring at him from across the yard. He stopped and lowered the hose to his groin. This caused the water to roll directly down his penis. “It looks like I’m peeing when I hold it like this!” he yelled at the squirrel. “Looks like I’m peeing, don’t it!” The squirrel, as if somehow aware of what it had just witnessed, quickly climbed a tree.

David left his clothes in a pile outside and trampled several of his mother’s plants as he reentered the house. His first stop was the kitchen for a quick breakfast. He was upset to see that his mother hadn’t prepared anything for the family that day. Just what had she been doing all morning? He slammed the refrigerator door a few times, letting out over-exaggerated sighs and moans. When that didn’t work, he moved on to the cabinets. Opening and closing and opening and closing. He rattled some dishes for good measure. No one came to his aid. “I guess I will just feed MYSELF!” he shouted, to no one in particular.

Cereal was about as advanced a meal that he could handle. His cooking shows were for pleasure, not learning. He started to grab a bowl from the dishwasher when his mother entered the room, distracted and clearly searching for something. He pretended holding the bowl was cumbersome, letting his arms sag as he strained to place it on the counter. He did the same for the cereal, spilling as much on the floor as he managed to get in the bowl. He gritted his teeth and shook his head as he struggled with the task. He wiped the sweat from his brow in dramatic fashion. Then did the same to his tits. After throwing most of the silverware on the ground, Janet finally took notice.

“Oh dear, let me finish that for you. You sit. You sit.” She guided him to his worn “Very Good Active Boy” recliner in the next room. His mother had changed its name from La-Z-Boy, since laziness is a sin. She would not allow a sin chair in her home. She placed a tray table in front of him, and a blanket over his still naked body. He sunk back into the familiar seat, a satisfied grin on his face. The stress from almost having to prepare his own meal slowly melted away.

Janet returned with the cereal, along with a Budweiser and his Glock. He knew that if the government were ever to take his guns, it would be while he was eating. It was when he was most vulnerable. But he was ready. He would always be ready.

He finished rather quickly, relieved that another meal had passed without incident. There was no real plan in place for the day the President came for his guns. David just felt confident he would know what to do when the time came. He fingered the Glock’s muzzle. Barack SADDAM Obama will regret the day he enters this house. He underestimates me. Doesn’t think I’m prepared. Doesn’t know how many times I’ve watched The Matrix. I’ll be the last armed man in America.

He returned to his room to pack his empty suitcase. As he was digging through his closet for clothes to wear, he stumbled across an old, green binder. He hadn’t seen his collection in years. He blew dust off the cover, revealing the label “My Meats”. Page after page of vacuum sealed lunch meat, bacons, opossum jerky and more. It was every meat he had ever tried, documented for posterity. He would be bringing this along. Traveling to a new place likely meant new meats. He slid it inside his suitcase, along with a balisong and his large collection of Arby’s coupons.

He packed the rest of his belongings, zipped the suitcase and carried it downstairs. He resumed his post in the recliner. It was apparent he was the first person ready to leave. John was just now walking in from his turn with the hose shower, and the rest of the family were no where to be found. He decided to turn on the TV in the meantime. Padma Lakshmi’s familiar face filled the screen. He laid back, slid his hand down his pants and waited.