The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

Big Walter had a black plague mask with white words printed on it that said This Mask Is As Worthless As My Government. He had it pulled down so it only covered his mouth and not his nose, his idea of a personal protest. He and the Trump Boosters were sitting in the corner of the South End Marina’s Pilot Lounge, lately Revolution Central for the hotheads who come to congregate after a hard day of driving their 4×4’s up and down the island with their political signs and their semi-automatics in full view, no doubt a reminder to the rest of us commies that the day was coming when they would exercise their 2nd amendment rights if we won the election.

Little Jimmy was wondering loudly if maybe they should go down Tuesday and guard the polling station against ‘outside agitators’. Fairlane Fred was on his 3rd White Russian, an irony that apparently escaped his attention when he opined that the ‘Russkies’ were definitely trying to put their ‘finger on the scale’ for Biden and it might be time for an ‘intervention’ down at the polls. He’d heard on social media they would be there in force to coerce the voters.

“Hell yes they’ll try to intimidate the sheep!” Big Walter shouted as he tore off his mask, casting a wary eye toward Leonard, the new weekend bartender who only shook his head slightly and turned to a customer down the bar. That customer would be me. Two Toke sat an extra stool away, social distance in this Year of the Plague. “We’ll take some personnel down there and make sure things are on the up and up,” Walt declared.

“I’m in, Walt, count me in!” Little Jimmy declared resolutely. Fred and Jerry volunteered too. Two Toke chuckled. “Looks like we got ourselves an army in search of a war.”

Walter scowled and said if Two Toke Tom wanted a war, he’d gladly give him one. “My point exactly, Walter,” TT said and laughed.

Little Jimmy wanted to know what time they should show up and Fred said when the damn polling station opens up and Jerry asked where was the damn polling station anyway. This cracked Two Toke up. “Leonard,” he said, “give these vigilantes directions to the war, they’re short a GPS.” Leonard, despite being new to the job, stayed diplomatically out of this, just kept drying beer pints with a towel and putting them on the rack below the bar.

“That’s right, go ahead and laugh, Bernie Boy,” Walter growled, his mask on the table, definitely worthless now. “But when America turns socialist, you won’t be smiling anymore and that, my leftist friend, is a fact.”

“Walt, you wouldn’t know a fact if it ran you over with your own truck. But hey, I’m totally okay with you boys patrolling the polling station. Really, I am,” Tom said amiably. “ More power to you, more power to the people. I’d even go with you. You know, if I had a gun, but being a peacenik and all, I don’t. “

“Sure you would, Tom, sure you would,” Big Walter said, shaking his head sadly.

“I would, Walt, sure as you believe in facts, I would. Tell me what time to show up, maybe I’ll join the militia.”

“Leonard,” I said, “give these patriots a round on me. And Thomas here too. I think we’ve found some unity at last in these divided times.” And so, a few days before the election, we all drank a good will toast to an honest vote, long live the queen. Two Toke and I left together and neither of us told the boys our state was strictly mail-in ballots, no more polling stations to guard.

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