The Cultmaster

Chapter 4: Meeting Part Two

Chester's question caught Jacob off guard. Chester had always been of a more serious character whenever they were growing up. Jacob never expected their meeting would begin this way, and certainly not under the circumstances.
"What exactly are real politics?" The question came out unintentionally interrogative.
"You went to law school," responded the old bearded man, with a smile, "so you ought to know the history of our nation, its founding, our government." Jacob decided to play along, not quite knowing where Chester was going with this proposal.
"I've read some Locke back in my day," Jacob said, "and I read the entire Constitution, Declaration, Articles of Confederation, as well as some Common Sense. I know the government quite well, even if I haven't interacted with it directly. Only through its political systems." Chester took on a more grave tone now.
"There is a plague," he stated more dramatically, "rotting through America. It infects our people just as the rats infect these subway lines."
"Halloween's over, old man," Anthony annoyingly said, tapping his feet loudly against the floor, "now hurry up. The sooner I get out of this disgusting city, the sooner I'll be happy."
"The point is, Jacob," continued Chester, "there is a decline in morality all across this nation. The Founders intended for us to be a nation where the fellow man helped his neighbor. The Bible teaches us to do the same." Anthony rolled his eyes, but Chester continued his dissertation. "When the people become less upright and upstanding individuals, they become less upright citizens. And then they vote, and they send soulless individuals to Congress who only care to line their pockets with bucks. I'm sure you heard that I decided to run for Congress..."
"Yes," Jacob said captivatedly, a shift away from how he had felt that morning.
"Well, I decided to run because I wanted to bring a sense of dignity back home. I wanted to instill a new sense of purpose back into the souls of the American people, to show them that through virtuous actions, we can achieve something greater together."
Anthony began laughing hysterically and clapping sarcastically. Chester and Jacob looked at him in bewilderment, surprised but also unsurprised at how the speech had not struck a chord emotionally with him.
"Ha!" said he sarcastically. "That whole...thing... yeah, it was cute. Seriously though, Ches, you honestly think you can get those Guido gangs over in Jersey City to be more-"
"Anthony, please!" Jacob reprimanded him.
"What? You know those Italians over there are just eating pizza, drinking beers, and selling hits on other mafia mofos while living in our country, breaking our laws, all the while making money off of it! Seriously, Chester, why the hell would you waste your time with these people?
You know, you know deep in your heart, they can't be reformed. Changed. Some people can just never find happiness because they can never find the will to be virtuous. That's why the world is in free fall right now. No one cares about morals anymore." Anthony stood there proudly, while Jacob became infuriated, red as hell in the face.
He walked over to Anthony and stood as tall as he could to his height, even though Anthony was Abe Lincoln and Jacob was only 5 foot 10.
"How dare you speak so illy about our fellow Americans?!" he said. "You know, Gio was Italian, and he never tried to hurt anybody, not even a fly! Everything you said was bullshit."
"Giovanni," Anthony said, derogatorily, "was a mafia boy. His father killed people between Newark and Trenton for a living. And when it finally came to answer for his crimes, he faltered. He drove to a gas station in Hamilton Township, remember? He waited 15 minutes at the pump for an attendant to come, but they were behind the station, getting high. So he found them, and he confessed to everything. Pushing his son to suicide. Killing the Balusrieris and the Pierluggios. All of them, even the baby girl. God, Amalfeo Boneveghtti was so pathetic, he couldn't even bring himself to confess to the police. The world was blessed on April 1, 1974, when they found him dead, throat slit in the cell at the state penitentiary. I'm sorry for what I said. To both of you. I wasn't trying to be racist, if that's maybe how I came off. I'm just upset and angry like everyone else. That event affected all of us. What happened, of course, was a significant tragedy.. But it reminded me of the concerns all of has have. The future. Our morality. Our humanity. Who we are. The world is becoming a less moral place, and, well, we all need to work on that, and not become like Papa Amalfeo."
"Thank you, Anthony for that, " Jacob responded sentimentally, after a long pause, "I really appreciated that from you."
"You know son," said Chester, solemnly, "you just reminded me of something."
"What?"
"I had to fire Chuck."
"But he's your campaign manager," said Jacob.
"Yes, well, he was my former speechwriter, until he started making these super racist jokes." Jacob was utterly dumbstruck by this equally perplexing comment.
"So you rewarded him for his behavior by making him your...campaign manager?" Chester did not take Jacob's concern seriously.
"Why, yes," said Chester, "you see, being a campaign manager may be less work, but it also pays less. Besides, I had to keep Chuck around. He's the only one who can effectively sell a message. And he's charismatic. Me...well, not so much."
"Uh-huh," responded Jacob, "and where do I fall into this fucked up math equation?" Chester began to smile connivingly.
"Read between the lines! You're going to be my new speechwriter!" Jacob almost spit out the glass of water he had been given in disbelief.
"What? Me...your speechwriter?"
"Yes. You used to write these fantastical stories as a child. Your mother showed them to me. They were quite good, actually."
"That...woman," Jacob became angry, "I will have a word with her, next time I go see her and my wonderful big sister in... what's it called, 'something' township."
"Franklin." responded Anthony, "the town is called Franklin."
"You're the youngest, right, Jacob?" Chester casually asked.
"Yeah, it was Laura first, then Anthony three years later, then me six years after that."
"Are you opposed to seeing your family often?" Chester asked.
"Hells no." said Jacob. "I'd gladly trade in that shitshow for the one in Washington. Seems more my speed."
A very wide smile rose across Chester's face when he heard this.
"Then it's settled. You'll be my speechwriter?"
"I'll have to think about it more. Remember, I've still got a job."
"Your legal experience will prove vital there," responded Chester, "you can help instill discipline in the members of Congress."
"Jesus Christ!" Anthony suddenly erupted, "Will you two geriatrics please hurry up your goddamn dawdling? I've got a pharmacy to return to!"
"I'll call you with the rest of the details," Chester said, "but I need an answer by January."
"Got it," said Jacob, "again, it was great to see you. Have a good rest of your day."
"You too, son, " and they embraced like they were real father and son.
"Bye, Anthony, " Chester called out as the tall 33 year old was almost fully out the door. In response, he gave the old man two middle fingers, but Chester understood Anthony's style of joking to know that it was just a joke, or he was actually angry and this was his form of retaliation. One could never really tell with Anthony. After exchanging a few more words, Jacob left as well, and they both arrived bsck on West 79th Street a few moments later.
Even though Jacob had originally thought of this campaign as perhaps something negative, his meeting with Chester had reassured that Chester would actually be a good representative for the people. Maybe he actually did care. But doubts still remained. What suddenly prompted him to run for office? As Jacob pondered these thoughts, Anthony nudged him to start walking. As Jacob walked, he spotted a homeless man on the corner with a Jack Russell by his side. They were both obviously starving, and it was cold out. Jacob considered giving them money as he watched their plight out of natural pity, but he decided against it, knowing who would or would not buy drugs. As he began to walk away, he felt tiny flakes falling from the sky.
"Oh, fuck, " griped Anthony. "This early in the season? What is wrong with this fucking weather?" He then turned to Jacob.
"Walk faster, bud! We need to get the hell outta here before the roads are piled up! We still have to get back to the diner to get your car." Jacob stared for a few moments at the sky as more flakes began to fall and accumulate successively on the ground. He then took one last look at the man and the dog. It was time to go home.