Supreme Executive Power

by Matthew Haws

monarchy, riddle, two, dilemma, cranberry, eliminate

Yeah, I remember where I was when Obama proclaimed himself King of America. I was in some dinky convenience store trying to find just the right kind of cranberry juice (organic all-natural unsweetened blah blah blah), my punishment from my irate girlfriend like it was my fault she got a UTI. Well, maybe it was? I don’t really know how these things work. The guy behind the counter had this little TV on and there was the former President explaining how we were now a monarchy. It seemed like a great April Fool’s Day joke, and I even laughed as I half-listened to it, except it was July.

There was another man at the counter buying cigarettes. “That seems like a bad idea,” he said, looking at the television.

“You think?” said the guy behind the counter, with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, that makes Malia next in line, but suppose Sasha challenged her for it? Could be civil war.”

The whole thing was baffling, and I was quite upset. I mean, is “unsweetened” the same thing as “no sugar added?” My instinct told me it was, but my instinct had been wrong on more than one occasion when given a task like this, the sort of task often referred to by you-know-who as quote-unquote “something so simple even you can’t fuck it up” -- which, naturally, I almost always managed to do anyway. I could just see her, staring at the bottle of cranberry juice with a look of incredulity. “Did I say no sugar added? I said unsweetened! I thought you understood basic English! How does an adult male living in 2014 not know the difference between no sugar added and unsweetened for God’s sake?” I stared at the list of ingredients on the back but I had no more possibility of deciphering their meaning than I would an ancient riddle on a recently discovered fragment of Sanskrit text.

“Are you crazy?” said the counter guy, “How’s Sasha gonna claim the throne? She’s definitely younger. Malia is the clear heir. She wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.”

“I’d support her,” said cigarette dude, “I dunno. That Malia always seemed sketchy to me.”

“You’re crazy, pal. Plain crazy.”

I had a real dilemma. I'd narrowed it down to two different types of juice, but neither one seemed exactly right. I thought maybe I'd hedge my bet and just get both. I'd show up with two bottles of cranberry juice and say, "I got twice as much as you asked for because I love you!" Naw, when I thought about it a second time, I knew she'd see right through that. "You didn't know which one to get, did you?" Forget it. I decided just to get one of the two and pretend not to care if she didn't like it. I'd slam the bottle down and say, "If you don't like it, then go yourself, woman! I won't play these games!" It felt good to think that way. I put down the second bottle of juice, then took the first to the register. Then I stopped, hesitated, and went back switched them. Then I just took them both to the counter.

"What do you think?" the cashier asked me.

"Would you side with Sasha or Malia in the civil war?" added the cigarette guy.

"Oh I don't know. I don't really pay attention to politics."

"Enough with the civil war talk," complained counter guy, "We're talking about a king here, a ruler, a monarch. Supreme Executive Power." He looked me straight in the eye. "You really OK with turning over all power over your life to another person?"

"Oh fuck." I said. I'd forgotten to get tampons. I practically ran to go get them.