The Chameleon Candidate
Red Moe Hayseed's wild ride: A satirical romp through politics, where convictions change faster than outfits in a quick-change magic act.
Chapter 3: The Quick-Change Artist
Red Moe Hayseed's "rusty" pickup truck rumbled down a country road, kicking up dust. To the casual observer, it looked like any old farm truck. In reality, the vehicle was a state-of-the-art tour bus, its exterior a high-tech chameleon wrap currently mimicking decades of wear and tear.
Inside, Moe was a whirlwind of activity. "Janet!" he barked from the recliner. "What's our first stop?"
His assistant's voice crackled through the speaker. "Sunshine Elementary, sir. They're expecting a speech on the importance of education and family values."
Moe nodded, already shimmying out of his faux-veralls. "Right. Get me the 'Caring Educator' outfit. And make sure the green lighting is subtle this time! Last event, I looked like the Jolly Green Giant's accountant."
Moe's lack of a chin proved to be a blessing as he rapidly cycled through outfits. 'Janet,' he called out, 'remind me to thank my parents for this genetic gift. Makes it a breeze to squeeze into these getups without messing up my collar.“
Moments later, Moe emerged from the truck wearing a sweater vest with subtle dollar sign patterns. He beamed at the crowd of children and parents.
"Well, if y'all ain't a sight for sore eyes!" he drawled. "Our little ones are our future! We need more of 'em, raised up right with good ol' fashioned values! We’ll grow DESE ever’ year with School Choice!"
He kissed babies, posed for photos, and glad-handed parents. As soon as he was back in the truck, the Ozark drawl vanished. "Janet, next stop?"
"Pro-life rally at the Planned Parenthood, sir."
“Are we for or against?”
“For or against who, sir?”
“Exactly. Keep them guessing.”
Moe cursed, struggling with his "rolled-up sleeves" suit. The sleeves, permanently sewn to look casually rolled up, refused to budge. "Who designed this thing? I look like I'm about to do the dishes, not save the unborn!"
Nevertheless, he plastered on a smile as he approached the podium at the rally. "Friends, we must protect the sanctity of reproductive health by havin' fewer children born into difficult circumstances!"
An aide whispered in his ear. Moe's eyes widened briefly before he recovered. "And by that, I mean we need to support our fine adoption agencies! Every child deserves a lovin' home!"
As he hurried back to his truck, a gust of wind caught the "rusty" exterior, making it shimmer green for a moment. Moe glanced around nervously, then ducked inside.
"Janet, tell me there's nothing else today. I'm running out of costumes and contradictory opinions."
"Just one more, sir. Town hall meeting. They want to discuss the new factory that might be built on protected wetlands."
Moe groaned. "Great. Where's my 'Environmentally Conscious Industrialist' outfit? And someone get me a list of birds or some blind crawdad. I need to sound concerned about specific species while also promoting job creation. Maybe we could have a crawdad boil."
As the truck rumbled towards its next destination, Moe practiced his lines in the mirror, his chameleon-like transformation already beginning.