Phoenix Rising

this goal by requiring more from those who have greatly profited by the opportunities offered them.

That means that the wealthiest among us will have to do their fair share in order to make all our citizens truly equal. But from their sacrifice will emerge a new order. Think of it. No more will there be people with no place to lay their heads, with no food upon their tables, without adequate health care, and with none of the finer things that make life worthwhile.

Such a thing has long been the goal of compassionate people, and in the past we have introduced welfare programs, food stamps, aid to dependent children, Medicaid, Medicare, and yes, even Social Security, to move in that direction. But any economist will tell you that all those programs have failed. I will not fail. We will have, before I complete my first four years, a universal program of shared wealth.

There was a light tap on the door, and when it was pushed open Captain Karin Dawes stuck her head in.

“It’s me,” she called.

“Come on in, Karin,” Jake invited. “You’re late. I’ve eaten almost all the popcorn already.”

Karin walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. “Don’t you ever buy any kind of soft drink except root beer?”

“There is no soft drink except root beer.”

“What a deprived life you have lived,” Karin said as she grabbed one. “What have I missed?” She settled on the sofa beside him, pulling her legs up and leaning against him.

“Not much. Ohmshidi just admitted that he was a communist.”

Karin popped the tab, and the root beer can spewed a fine mist. “You’re kidding me!”

“Well, he as much as did. He’s talking about sharing the wealth.”

“Oh, that’s all. Now, tell me the truth, Jake. Wouldn’t you like to have some of Bill Gates’s money?” Karin asked as she took a swallow of her drink.

“Not unless I did something to earn it. I believe in a fair wage for honest work, but I certainly don’t believe in taking money from the successful to give to the losers who voted for this bozo.”

“Come on, give him a chance. He hasn’t been president for more than an hour, and you are already picking on him.”

“It took him less than fifteen minutes to show his true colors,” Jake said. “And forget the people who were calling him a pinko during the election. He isn’t pink; he is red through and through.”

Karin laughed. “Jake, I can’t believe you are such a troglodyte. Just calling you a right-wing wacko doesn’t quite get it. You are to the right of Attila the Hun. Are all Amish that way?”

“If you mean do they want to do for themselves, the answer is yes. And I agree with them. I didn’t abandon everything the Amish believe in when I left the Life,” Jake said. “I’m still a strong believer in the idea of individual self-reliance, rather than depending on the government for everything.”

“He can’t be all that bad,” Karin said as she turned her attention to the TV screen. Ohmshidi was still talking.

“I thought you told me you didn’t vote for him.”

“I didn’t vote for him, but millions of Americans did.”

“I know. That’s what frightens me.”

“You will share the wealth tonight though, won’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

Karin laughed. “Pass the popcorn. Unless part of your self-reliance means I have to pop my own.”

Jake passed the popcorn bowl over to her. “Just listen to him,” he said. “Every time he opens his mouth, he sticks his foot in it.”

During my campaign, I promised you a transparent presidency, and, in adhering to that promise, I will keep you informed of my every action. So I am issuing now, in this inaugural address, my first executive order.

“Damn,” Jake said. “An executive order in the inaugural address? I don’t think that’s ever been done before.”

“You can’t say he isn’t up and running,” Karin replied.

For too long the United States has been perceived by the rest of the world as a nation with an intrusive military presence. Since World War Two we have maintained a significant and, for much of the world, intimidating force in other countries. Therefore on this day, as my first official action as president, I am ordering all American troops, wherever they may be, to return to the United States. From this date forward, we will have no deployed forces anywhere in the world.

“Whoa!” Jake said, leaning forward. “What did he just say?”

“He said he is bringing all the troops back home.”

“And do what with them? Where are they going to go?” Jake asked.

“I guess that means I won’t ever make it to Germany,” Karin said.

“That is pure insanity,” Jake said. “If this is the first thing he does, where do we go from here?”

Karin picked up the remote and turned off the TV. “I am getting concerned about you. I’m afraid that you are going to get so mad watching this guy that you may well have an intracerebral hemorrhage.”

“A what?”

“A stroke. It is my medical recommendation that we forget about him and go out for dinner.”

“You’re right. Even if I don’t have a stroke, watching this commie bastard is going to make my head explode,” Jake said. “We’ll go out, but I choose.”

“What do you mean, you choose? I’m the one who suggested we go out.”

“That’s just it. You suggested it,” Jake replied. “That’s like being challenged to a duel; the one challenged gets to choose the weapons. In this case the one invited to go out gets to choose the restaurant.”

“I’ve never heard that. Is that some Amish rule?”

“Don’t be silly, I never ate in a restaurant in my life until I was an adult. It’s just the rule of common sense. You made the suggestion we go out, I get to choose where we go.”

“Don’t tell me,” Karin said. “You are going to choose Bubba’s All-You-Can-Eat Catfish Heaven, aren’t you?”

“It is a great place, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, it’s just wonderful,” Karin said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m glad you like it too,” Jake said, purposely disregarding her sarcasm as he reached for his car keys.

“Jake, have you ever thought of maybe going to a quieter, more traditional restaurant where they have real silverware, elegant crystal, fine china, good wine, and maybe a strolling musician? You know. Something romantic?”

“You know what is romantic?” Jake asked.

“What?”

“Catfish fried golden brown, steaming-hot hush-puppies, a plate full of French fries liberally doused with hot sauce, a side of sliced onion, a dill pickle spear, and an ice-cold root beer.”

“How can you possibly say something like that is romantic?”

“Because it is beautiful,” Jake said. “And isn’t romance supposed to be beautiful?”

“You are incorrigible.”

“Not really. I’m just hungry,” Jake replied as held the door open for her.

She laughed. “All right, Bubba’s All-You-Can-Eat Catfish Heaven it is, then.”

The restaurant was noisy and filled with customers, many of whom were soldiers from Fort Rucker. Half a dozen waiters scurried among the tables carrying trays upon which there were platters piled high with fried fish. Over in one corner a group of soldiers were doing their rendition of “All Out of Love,” the singing discordant and