Interrex

The Greatest Politician of Her Generation

by Cecile, Lucy, Emma.

“Governor Groove,” the legal aid pleaded, “we desperately need colored pencils for the office.”

“Madame Governor,” the attorney general interjected, “the scissor situation must take priority.”

“Your excellency,” a state senator cried, “can we please convene a subcommittee on the thermostat in here?”

The governor’s office was clean, brightly colored, and packed wall-to-wall with staff members. Governor Groove waved away a gaggle of executive assistants and re-focused on a debate she was having with her office manager: should they put in a slide for the office, or a firepole? The office manager had insisted on a firepole along with a climbing wall, but Governor Groove — ever the pragmatist, the consummate public servant — said that a slide was more accessible, pointing to complaints they had in the past about ADA compliance.

“My office must be accessible to the people,” Groove yelled.

“Don’t forget about your interview,” shouted Judah from the foyer. “It’s in 30 minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Groove waved him off, but then her eyes went big. “Wait! Judah, come back. What’s the interview about?” 

“It’s about Verdant Fever.”

“That crisis again? What’s my position this time?”

“You’re... against it. The green plague has killed hundreds already.”

The governor groaned, rubbing her forehead in disdain. “Before we put out these fires, we absolutely must get more cereal for the office. I can’t keep eating yogurt for breakfast.”

Her legal aids nodded solemnly. “We’ll get right on it, ma’am,” they intoned in unison.

Judah popped his head back in. “By the way, the surgeon general called to get an update on your plan to stop the green plague.”

“Yes yes, the cereal issue must be addressed.” The governor stood up from her chair, pushing three interns out of the way. “Do you guys know where my swimsuit is? I need to go surfing for a minute to de-stress.”

“It’s in the car, ma’am,” said a choir of assistants. Governor Groove plowed her way through the crowd to the window, frowning as she looked down at a large group of protesters, all of their faces green.

“Are they here about the hot dog issue?” The governor stroked her chin. “I told Peters to issue a statement about that. We can always get more hot dogs.”

“No ma’am, it’s about the disease,” Judah said, shoving his way to the governor. “People are turning green and passing out everywhere. The protestors want to know what we are going to do about it.” 

The governor scoffed. “Turning green is not that big of a deal. People turn all sorts of colors every day. We’ll get to it when we get to it — Daniel! Where is my hot plate? I must make some pasta for brunch.”

Judah got a ping on his BlackBerry. “Madame Governor, the city hospital just reported nine more deaths from the green plague.”

“Shut up, Judah! Don’t you have more pressing issues to tackle? Like restocking the Frosted Flakes in the snack cabinet.” The governor wiped her forehead, which had become slick with green sweat. “This administration will not tolerate a flake deficit.” 

Judah tried to approach the governor, but got pushed to the ground by a swarm of clerks moving back and forth from the copy machine. The governor found her way through the crowd to her couch, kicking off her shoes as she put her feet up, her face gradually shifting to the color of broccoli.

Judah tried again to walk over to the governor, only to be stepped on by a line of receptionists marching in and out of the bathroom. “You okay, Groove?” Judah cried, his face buried in the carpet.

But Governor Groove didn’t reply. And twenty minutes later, when Judah finally made it from the window to the couch, he noticed Groove was no longer breathing. Judah called an ambulance and administered CPR in vain as a pack of data entry clerks encircled the couch.

At 10:17 that night, Lindsay Elizabeth Groove was pronounced dead from Verdant Fever. And exactly two months later, the Groove Memorial Slide opened to the public with great fanfare as the death toll continued to rise.