The Play Station XII (or, Plasma, BITCH!, as it was advertised) lit up and on screen came the grinning, plastically perfect face of everyone's favorite news anchor, Jenny Jennings. A stunning 220 lbs, she was easily the healthiest person to grace both the TV screen and the holographic projector, and millions of viewers tuned in everyday to see her – the girls to point fingers at her obvious anorexia, and the guys to wrap fingers around their – well, they would, if they could reach around their bellies to do so – as they watched her cast the news in her husky, seductive voice accented by a heavy pant.

"Good evening," she trolled, taking another suck on her cigarette. "The news today will be focused on the upcoming presidential elections. Tonight is the last night in… the elections, and…" obviously winded, she paused. Around the galaxy her fans sighed at her hard work. "We will recap tonight by showing the first steps contestants took in the elections…. And now: Big Brother Death Factor Survival Feud: Presidential Election Edition!!!"

The screen changed to a scene of Oramamanbha, the green candidate, and Zinclariana, the first cross dressing hermaphrodite to run. Both were locked in grim battle, fighting each other.

"In our first round, candidates fought to the death for a chance to be openly ridiculed on their 'strategic and military judgment'. The judges included the creator of God of War 28 and a 7 year old boy from the inner city."

On screen, Zinclariana deftly maneuvered a stiletto through Oramamanbha's orange eye and into his (color unknown) brain. The fight was effectively over. The screen flipped to a classic public school, with the traditional bars over the windows, lead pipes to the water fountain and asbestos floor and ceiling tiles. If it worked for the 21st century, it could work for the late 21st. Squeezed into the desks were Zinclariana, George bush VI, and the Independent leader, an unknown simply called "Nadar". All three were focused on the tests laid before them.

"Unfortunately, only Nadar passed the exam the candidates were given."

Back at the studio, up-and-coming reporter Gimmy asked, "What was on the exam?"

Jenny's faced rolled over itself as she smiled a plastically perfect smile. "It was the US citizenship exam. Immigrants have to take it before they are eligible for the rights of American Citizenship."

Gimmy's face fell. Like 87 percent of America citizens, he had failed it.

The screen changed to the 3rd exam. The 3 candidates were staring at a board.

'How do you, like, play again?' asked Zinclariana.

The instructor sighed. 'It's the children's version of Virtual Risk. You click the button. The computer does the rest.' Across the room, George Bush VI's computer sparked and fizzled, before exploding like a miniature nuclear warhead (minus the radiation, of course).

'Sorry,' said George. 'But you know how Microsoft can be.'

The instructor sighed. 'This is the third time! You were messing with the startup files again, weren't you?'

In a small voice George said, 'yessir…'

'And you got angry?'


'So you put one of those Nuke's4Kids bombs on the monitor…?'


Sigh. 'And you wonder why we don't let you have a Mac…'


One the other side of the room, Nadar wiped out the last of Zinclariana's army, and was declared dictator of the universe.

The holographic image flipped to a commercial. A cheery voice with a faint French accent came on the screen.

"Nukes4Kids! Now everyone can have a weapon of mass destruction! Use them on anthill! The neighbor's cat! Your kid sibling! Your parents! Call today! 1-800-AL-QAEDA! mustbe18oroldertocallmusthaveparentalpermissionnukes4kidsisnotresponsibleforanydamagedcausedbydestructionintentchildrenwhoneedbetterparentsoraworkstudiesprogramorjailifyousuewewillbombyourhousefrancedidnotendorsethisproduct…DOWNWITHTHEFREEWORLD!!!"

The screen went back to the lovely Jenny Jennings. "And now for tonight's contest. The candidates will debate their points while our viewers vote in on their eFones. Let the debates begin!"

The mediator smiled. She, while not sporting Jenny's trim figure, had a lovely blue-green shade of hair that she claimed to be natural.

"Zinclariana, why should you be President?"

"Well, I and a hermaphrodite. We've had male, female, sterile, transvestite, cross-dressing and self-castrating Presidents, but never a hermaphrodite President! So I should be, like, Prez!"

"OK! George Bush VI, if you were President, and the Student's with Physical Debilitating Illnesses and Disabilities were protesting your raise in the cost of healthcare by 500, what you would do?"

George smiled. From behind his podium, a Nukes4Kids exploded.

"And our final question, Nadar: What's your Presidential Platform?"

"My platform calls for a reform of taxes that would close the discrepancy between the rich and the poor by allowing for work programs for the unemployed to either educate them or assimilate them into the work force. To only allow a certain percentage of workers in companies to be outsourced, and stricter controls on the media, the economy – especially government and private monopolies – and healthcare costs and benefits. To start cleaning our oceans, so that the only endangered species are no long only in the San Diego Zoo. To cut down on crime by getting rid of corrupt police, to stop the illegal abductions of children and women, and the selling of them into physical, sexual or militaristic slavery, in our country and maybe others. To make America truly free and democratic by reinstating the electoral vote and private voting booths. To make voting more secure, to…"

"That's all the time you have."

"Thank you. And may God – or your designated deity/lack there of – bless."

Around the galaxy, PS XXII's, X-Box 2pi's, Wiiiiii to the Wii power's and the newly invented TouchMePleeze's flicked off. Exhausted by a 2-hour day, eyes slowly closed. In the seats of LZ-Boiz, the Sitters' skin continued to merge with the fabric – as it'd been doing since the last time the people had moved. The last to sleep were the Watchers, a race of under fed people with no free-will, whose jobs were to remove the waste tubes of their masters, the Sitters, and transfer the bags to their feeding tubes. On top of that, they further fed their masters, the 2000 calories of trans. fat they required to live happily and safely.

Back 2031, a Watcher forgot to feed its master the 2000 calories. All they found of him was a dried skeletal creature. For years afterwards, the other Watcher – who had been in the room at the time of the "feeding" – would only say the words "He sucked all the fat!" Eventually, that Watcher was terminated, and ground down for a protein supplement. Spraying protein supplements on the "food" the Sitters ate was the only way to give them the nutrients they needed to be alive.

The next morning the votes would come in: America wanted George Bush VI as their president. Zinclariana continued to be a politician, calling for action against – and forgetting about as soon as the funds were collected – many a cause. His (her?) most successful one was the fight against pinky cancer in kangaroos. Finally, in shame because of the people he failed to lead to salvation (the American population) Nadar – or, as his daddy called him, Yeshua – rolled back the door to his cave-like room and went to bed for another 3,000 years. Maybe next time, he could rapture the public and bring the 1,000 years of true peace and happiness that a forecaster named John had predicted – at least, if he could survive reality TV again.