"I don't know about you," Joe replied, "But I happen to think Donald Duck would make an excellent president."

--

I know election day was yesterday, but I wrote this with that in mind.

Okay, okay. I don't know how soon the sequel to A Tale Of Two brothers'll be posted. I want it to be good, you know? Anyhow. This is in salute to Barrack Obama and John McCain, who have been running for president for the last two years. (Excuse any misspellings of names. It is not on purpose.)

I hope you enjoy.

Just as a safety note: I take no political stand with either candidate. This is not a support story of the candidates themselves. This is more of a joke, and an inspiration.

Inspired by Jasmie, a friend of mine.

--

"So are you looking forward to voting this year, Frank?" Joe asked as he put the dishes in the dishwasher, drying his hands on the towel.

Frank shrugged. "That depends. Do I really want to stand in line for two hours?"

"Two hours? The newscaster said it'd be like four. Hey! You should wear some of Dad's political T-shirts."

"Dad doesn't have any political T-shirts," Frank told Joe with a sigh of exhaustion. "Besides, we're not allowed to wear them at the polls, you know?"

"Want to see the political T-Shirt I got the other day?" Joe questioned, turning on the dishwasher and looking at Frank.

"Joe! Dad said we weren't allowed to endorse any candidates for president because of our involvement with—" Frank glanced as he looked around for any of the parents – "ATAC."

"Relax, he won't mind me wearing this one," Joe said, scampering up the stairs. "I got a friend of mine to make it for me. You'll love it, Frank. I guarantee it."

"Joe," Frank yelled, "don't you remember anything Dad says? At least tell me you remember what to do if I get shot!"

"Call Dad, tell him to hurry up and get to the hospital," Joe joked as he grabbed his shirt from his dresser and changed quickly. "You'll like it, Frank! At least give it a chance."

"But you know what Dad said!" Frank protested angrily, slamming his Coke can on the counter.

"Like I said, big bro, relax!" Joe grinned as he clomped down the stairs. "This is one for the ages."

Even Frank had to laugh when he saw Joe's shirt, and he did so, burying his face in his hands. "Donald Duck '08. Very impressive. Who'll be the vice president?"

"Minnie Mouse," Joe told him, showing him the back of his shirt. "See? Donald Duck/Minnie Mouse 08."

"There's one problem with your theory, Joe."

"What's that?"

"Donald Duck doesn't wear pants."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Who said anything about wearing pants to be a president of the USA?" Joe questioned, looking at him like something strange was growing out of his head.

"Well, the person who runs for president has to be a U.S. Citizen, at the very least, age 36," Frank explained slowly. "And since he or she usually goes in public, they'd have to wear pants."

"Donald Duck does wear pants, Frank."

"Really?"

"Yes. They're invisible."

"Joe!" Frank threw what he was holding in his hand at Joe—a knife. "Jeez, Joe. And anyway, I think Mickie Mouse would be a much better president."

"Would not!" Joe protested, crossing his arms. "He don't – doesn't – know that 2+2=.5."

"Joe, the president has to know more than just two plus two, which, by the way, equals four."

"Oh yeah? And who would be vice president?" Joe countered. If Frank was going to go all the way, then so would he.

"Donald Trump. He alone would have enough money to give a huge tax break to everyone."

Joe smiled. "So are you voting tomorrow?"

"Of course. And don't ask who for. That's my secret, Joe."

"I'll find out eventually."

"No, you won't."

"Hey! Maybe we can run for president!" Joe grinned. "Hardy Boys' 08!"

"We're not 36 yet, Joe."

"Wouldn't it be awesome, though? Think about it. Me president."

"No, Joe. I would have to be the president."

"Why?"

"Because the president needs not to start a war when someone tells him not to wear heart-shaped boxers."*

"Hey, I only dumped water on you the next day."

Frank rolled his eyes. "In all seriousness, I'm glad we get to vote for the president. It's a feeling of pride."

"Of Independence," Joe agreed. Then, grinning wide, he added, "Of country, land and liberty."

Groaning, Frank replied, "Joe, you're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"Yes, I actually do go to work, Frank. Isn't that exiting?" Joe grinned.

Rolling his eyes again in exasperation, Frank retorted, "You volunteer two hours a week at a Homework Help Center – when you haven't been kidnapped, that is." He grinned at that.

"Hey! I only missed twice because I was kidnapped," Joe protested. "Hey! Mom! I'm glad you're back from your cruise," he called.

"Thanks, Joe. I am, too." Laura's eyes widened. "Care to explain your shirt, Joe?"

"It had better not be dirty," Gertrude grumbled, placing her bags on the floor. "I'm not washing anyone else's laundry. I'm on strike."

"It's Donald Duck. I'm nominating him for president," Joe explained, as if it were the most obvious, elementary thing in the world.

Gertrude sighed. "As long as it's not dirty," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Alright; Joe, if you'll take my bags upstairs, I'll start on supper."

"Why do I have to take your bags? What about Frank? How come he gets off?" the teenager demanded, crossing his arms.

"Because Frank is taking your mother's," Gertrude replied with a smile. "Okay, boys, get to work. And I'm sorry, Joe, but I'm not voting for Donald Duck."

"You are just no fun, you know that?" Joe retorted, rolling his eyes.