Election Day: The Revenge

Tuesday is Election Day, thank god.  The following are the chain of events that have occurred over the previous week:

-Obama aired a commercial asking for my vote.

-Romney also aired a commercial asking for my vote.

-Obama aired several thousand more commercials asking for my vote.

-Romney countered with the same number of commercials asking for my vote.

-Obama sent me a courteous letter asking for my vote.

-Romney called me during dinnertime asking for my vote.

-Obama sent a young man with a clipboard to my front door asking for my vote.

-Romney himself came to my door and asked for my vote.

-Obama snuck in through my front window and asked for my vote.

-Romney was caught in my backyard dumping gasoline in swirly patterns. He dropped the match and the words “Vote For Romney” ignited.

-Obama was caught dumping gasoline on my favorite maple tree and told me that if I didn’t vote for him he would "burn this poor tree to the ground."

-Two days ago I came home to find that our two cats were missing. Left behind was a ransom note telling me that if I ever wanted to see my two cats alive again I should “Vote Romney.”

-Yesterday I came home to a completely empty house. There was another ransom note, but this time the word “cats” was replaced with “wife and child” and the word “Romney” was replaced with “Obama.”

-I was getting in my car to drive to the police station and report that the President of the United States had kidnapped my family. As I opened my car door, a cold blade pressed against my Adam’s Apple. A muffled but somehow familiar voice said “Vote Mitt Romney for president or I’ll gut you head to toe.” I elbowed the attacker in the midsection and he went down. I hopped into my car and sped off toward the police station. While waiting at an intersection a whacky hobo, who looked mysteriously like Obama wearing a tattered wool hat and fake grey beard, held up a sign outside my windshield. The sign read: “If you don’t keep the car above 55 miles per hours and drive straight to the polling booth and vote for Obama…Ka-Boom.” I stepped on the gas until the car was going 55mph and I rolled out the door. My body violently bounced off the asphalt several times. When I finally came to, I was bloody and woozy. Then a kindly old man helped me up and tended to me wounds. He told me that none of this would have happened if Ron Paul was on the ticket.