Decision Day

            Today is decision day. Everyone’s been up in arms over these ridiculous elections for the past month, and now that they’re finally here, everyone’s gone all diplomatic. Bullshit! No one wanted to be friends back when the platforms were submitted, so why are people suddenly wishing me “best of luck”? What does that expression even mean? Is the worst of luck bad luck, or just no good luck? And now everyone expects me to reciprocate and be nice in return. As. If. I spent hours working on those posters and campaign fliers, and the position of student body present belongs rightfully to me. I suppose I should discuss why my fellow candidates for this prestigious position don’t come close to holding the great honour and responsibility of being North Valley High’s Student Body President for the 2011-2012 Academic Year, and what makes me, Richard Pratt, the obvious choice to lead this school to victory, in the classroom and on the sports field.

            The first degenerate to fill out an application was Travis McMann. I’ve known Travis since grade four, and I don’t think his intellectual abilities have improved much since then. If only I could say the same for his muscles and ego, because since junior high, Travis has been the class heartthrob. I’m not even remotely jealous of the attention he’s received over the years, though. No one with half a brain would find those blonde, busty bimbos worth giving a second glance, let alone the chance to touch my sculpted physique. Travis has time and time again managed to outdo me in every class election since grade nine because of the complete mockery my peers make of the political process, but this year, things will be different. Everyone knows these are the big leagues: the student body president represents not only the whole senior class, but the entire school, and liaises regularly with staff and faculty to assure the school runs smoothly, and only the best events are put on to utilize our dwindling budget. Budgets are a separate matter in their own right, and I suspect the most budgeting Travis has done involves divvying his weekly allowance up between booze bootlegged from his brother, and whatever fast food he can stuff down his bulging neck. Jacob, the older of the McMann’s, doesn’t even go to school. He took a semester at South Valley Community College, and dropped out because it wasn’t meeting his career goals. What those career goals are precisely, I may never know. Probably something like buying cheap beer for underage kids until the cops finally decide to get off their lazy keesters and do something about it. I would swear, but when discussing the McMann family, I try not to let my emotions get the best of me.

            I played my trump card over Travis at our closing speeches yesterday, and judging by the complete shock I saw the audience experience in that assembly, I know he’s out of the running. I’m quite surprised that he didn’t drop out on the spot! In the middle of my speech, I cleverly hired two students from the West Valley Middle School to come in, clothes tattered and makeup smeared (the girls hadn’t yet begun to use makeup, but I felt some mascara running would really play on my dear, uninformed high school’s emotions), crying about the evil man sitting in front of us that did this to them. I never expected anyone to take them seriously, as Travis had an unfortunately solid alibi: he had been “rehearsing” his speech with the entire cheerleading squad all day. But I didn’t need to make an outright claim against his moral fibre. Now that the seeds of doubt had been sown, I was able to offhandedly remind the school of the painful scandal my dear opponent had to endure last year concerning his father running of with his secretary, and $750,000 in cash from his corporation’s safe. I then assured Travis I would take his side on court, and insisted on acting as a character witness to put any thought out of anyone’s head that he could stoop so low as to take advantage of beloved girls from our community. Travis was powerless! All he could do was thank me – quite stupidly, I must add – and let me carry on with my five-point plan for success.

            Also, this morning I found Travis getting stoned in his car with Stacy Johansen, and managed to snap a quick Polaroid of them blowing smoke into each others’ faces, so even if he wins anyway, I have one last ace in the hole. In previous years I wouldn’t have resorted to such drastic measures, but I’ve learned that around the school’s boy wonder, I can take no chances.

            The other potential president elect is one Carol Kim, and in my opinion, Carol Kim is what’s wrong with this school. I believe in every tenet proposed in our school’s charter, including all those bits about diversity, but whenever I see Carol Kim walk through a hallway with her rainbow of token multicultural friends, I feel a strong urge to vomit Skittles. She’s got every form of discrimination covered by her inner circle, and with a campaigning committee composed of a bisexual jock, lesbian thespian, Latina girl in a wheelchair, the school’s only Black band geek, Asian intellectual, and a ginger campaign manager, who can argue anything against her? She’s filled every niche, and yet she still preserves a mainstream status. I don’t want to live on Sesame Street with your impractical pêle-mêle of misfits and wannabes, so get out of my school, and build a community centre together!

            Carol’s platform is, ironically, about promoting a segregated council based on everyone’s talents. Rather than going with the tried-and-true “everyone’s equal, so let’s sing Kumbaya and hold hands” approach, Carol – or rather, Chuck her manager – thought it would be a riot if they could get people to think differently. I have sad news for Carol if she feels our class is that socially progressive. It’s still a man’s world out there in high school politics, and this new-age tactic of getting everyone to love each other is decades away from being any good. I actually formed three of my five points in direct opposition to Carol’s personal philosophy: we must be united through equality – except for those setting the laws, as they have a higher position to judge what is most equal; we must celebrate our differences by all contributing to the common good – another promise I intend to keep so long as the common good reflects what I’ve already planned and no one is too dense to realize they’re replaceable and interchangeable with any other bundle of muscles that runs for lower positions; and finally, solidarity overwhelms all else – getting a mindless population to follow you is especially easy when they feel that each of their actions holds a direct consequence, and cancelling a school dance or tailgater party is the perfect way to show dissenters that their deviation from the group is intolerable.

            I would be more worried about Carol, but again, I was ingenious enough to hire some underlings to perform a task some may call questionably moral, but I see as completely within my own right as a student. I don’t even directly involve Carol! However, at precisely 1:15 this afternoon, I had three anonymous calls made to Carol’s home. Two from a pair of tenth-graders I found to have particularly sexy voices, and the third from Gloria, the school slut. While each message never openly accuses Carol of committing any act her parents would find reprehensible, I’ve had a chance to see Mr. and Mrs. Kim in action with their daughter. Tim and Mary may not have the most spectacular English skills, but I’m sure they’ll be able to draw some inferences for themselves, and as soon as they catch wind of all the sex their daughter may or may not be having, I’m sure Carol will be taken out of the election, and hopefully the school as well! It’ll be nice to spend my last year of high school not having to look at her obnoxious group of friends. I bet they all make out with each other after Bible study, too. Like a disgusting spill of seven shades of paint swirling into each other, I will feel much better when I’ve wiped down the walls of their sad attempt at diversity.

            Though I have already revealed a significant portion of my platform, the most important parts are what will come during the school year. First, I have a strict two-event per month policy, with a separate quota for school-approved, registered functions. Any more than two events, and people stop shelling out cash to “show their pride”. The loophole I plan on using here is with school-approved functions such as council appreciation nights, and student organizer socials. I’ve managed to divert a portion of the budget of nearly $2,000 dollars to be used at the discretion of the executive council members. I intend to use these funds to purchase proper furniture and a decent entertainment system for the president’s office – things that have been sorely lacking in our current martyr’s presidency. James Hubble is nothing but a coward and a kiss-butt trying to pad his resume by looking as selfless as possible. If he could only see past his blissful naïveté, he could’ve done so much to prepare for my arrival in office.

            There remain two roadblocks from me getting what I want, however: the student body vice president, and the grade twelve representative. While intended to assure no individual member of the executive council controls too much of the student body’s budget, I find these spots entirely limiting on the democratic process. The president elect is the representative of the entire student body, so why are others necessary at all? If they think someone else could do the job better, I challenge them to produce a candidate worthy of running against me. The final part of my platform addresses this ugly concern: the newly created Students’ Needs Committee must approve any decision regarding student-used funds. While this may seem counterintuitive to my goal, I’ve spent the past three years of my high school career grooming seven individuals to sit on this committee, and agree to vote solely in my favour. Only three will sit on the committee, but I set the condition that all members of executive council (the vice president, representative, and myself) must choose qualified students. I am confident that even if other students do apply, they won’t have nearly the experience, or the desire, to seriously pursue a spot. I’m clawing my way to the top, and no force in this school will stop me. My deceptions may be exposed during my term, but I’m confident the populace will be either too apathetic or too unstable to kick me out, let alone suggest a stand-in president. I’ve been lobbying for the worst of the vice president and representative candidates, and by cutting the level of competence of those surrounding me, I’ll keep myself in favourable opinion, at least politically.

            I don’t need to make friends with these people. I don’t even need to make friendly with them. I’ve got online friends, and they understand me far better than anyone in this squalid city. My parents see only what I care to show them about my school life, and after earning countless awards in involvement and academics, they have nothing to complain about. I’m doing a stellar job this far, even without a class presidency title, but Travis McMann’s reign of apathetic totalitarianism has come to an end. In less than forty-five minutes, the results will be announced, and whether they say my name or his, I know where I will be sitting next year. Even if the administration realizes the snapshot of him smoking up in his BMW is photoshopped (quite cleverly), I’ll still get my way. I’ve paid almost the entire West Valley Elementary School in candy to hurt the bad man who stole the rest of my candy from me. Presidents can’t do much if they’re hospitalized with every bone in their body broken.

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