by FREDERICA VON McTOAST-HYPHEN, Alternate Reality News Service People Writer
He's the kind of person you would see more and more on the streets of cities across the country if they hadn't been rendered invisible through social embarrassment: old and white, wearing ragged clothes and a fading Make Vesampucceri Grate Again cap. He smells like rotting cabbage, so you want to be sure that you stand downwind from him. His name is Bill, or Mac, or Buddy.
In this specific case, his name was Billy-Mac Buddenfumplieffer. I found him sitting on Main Street in Mayan City, Mainington, his back against a boarded up It'll Curl Your Hair salon.
I wanted to give Billy-Mac five bucks, but when I suggested that he take his MVGA (pronounced "muggah," which seems appropriate for such a gangsta regime) hat off and put it on the ground, he sneered, "I don't want your charity! Ask me a question about finance."
I looked blankly at him (I admit, he Etch-a-Sketched me), then asked Billy-Mac why he wanted me to ask him a question. He answered: "Because then I can claim that this is a business consultation, and I will have earned the money you give me. So, you gonna ask me a question, or what? Because if I have to tell you again, it'll cost ya!"
Before I could think of a question to ask, the man on the street added: "The minimum rate for my service is ten dollars a question."
I was already committed, so I fished around in my purse for another five dollar bill. When I had secured the money, I asked Billy-Mac if he thought we were heading for a Depression.
"Depression? Pfft!" he scoffed. "Have you seen the stock market, lately? Lady, the Vesampuccerian economy has never been better, and we have President McDruhitmumpf to thank for that!"
Billy-Mac was a detective down in Texaransas, but I wasn't sure he knew just exactly what the facts is.
He told me that his business had dried up because of COVID-19, there being less opportunity for husbands to cheat on their wives when they were staying in place (the health measure, not the step exercise). Until last month, he had been getting by with a $600 government supplement to his income. Then, Congress let the supplement lapse. And, when I say Congress, I mean the Senate. And, when I say the Senate, I really mean Majority Leader Mitch Wichconnelliswich.
"Ain't I a stinker?" he asked, the twirl of a moustache in his voice. And, let me tell you, getting the image of a turtle with a moustache out of my head is going to take an industrial-strength sedative! Billy-Mac couldn't afford to pay his rent, so he found himself giving dubious financial advice to passersby for spare change. "It was the right call," he said of losing his government benefits. "If the government gives away free money, people will have no incentive to work."
When I asked what good incentives to work were when there were no jobs available, Billy-Mac snorted and called me a socialist.
When I pointed out that Congress, including the Senate, including Majority Leader Wichconnelliswich, had passed an aid package for major corporations and the wealthy, Billy-Mac snorted and called me a Communist.
I was tempted to ask him what kind of disincentive to work giving trillions of dollars to those who already have so much might be, but I didn't want to find out what goes beyond Communist. I was hoping for banana-chocolate cruller, but I didn't think that was very likely.
Billy-Mac started to cough. It was a rumbling/hacking sound, like a car whose muffler had long ago lost heart and had almost completely descended into going through the motions. When I suggested he get that looked after, he snoughed, and told me: "Can't - hack - can't - kaff - no health - ack ack ack -"
"You have no health insurance?" I suggested.
He touched his nose, as if we were playing a lethal game of charades.
Appalled, I asked him if he was really willing to die to support Reduhblican coronavirus policies. By this time, speech was much more difficult for him, so Billy-Mac charaded, "If it will leave the Vesampucceri I knew intact for future grandfalloons." His hands fluttered faintly towards the end, so I may not have translated his exact thought, but I believe I captured its essence.
I considered calling 911 for an ambulance, but I really didn't want to find out what lies beyond Communist!