Mayor Royale
Part 2: Hope, Change, and Chopper Back-up!
A Kutlass Piece of Work
Disclaimer: Swat Kats: The Radical Squadron is © Hanna-Barbera.
"What's the meaning of this interruption, Call-ay? I'm quite busy at the moment with pressing matters of state! … Hoo-hee-hee- gadfrey, that tickles!"
A thin, well-groomed tailor was busy measuring all the angles of the portly Mayor, fully extending each arm and leg in quick measurement. Vast assortments of colorful, ceremonial kilts were carefully laid out along the dressing room bench. The Deputy Mayor's voice, unusually heightened, could be heard spilling through the Mayor's cell phone.
"Ah yes, today was the deadline to file candidate registration forms at the election office. Fine and dand-ay. I hope you gave my compliments to Tamm-ay, the board clerk, as usu-ahahaha!"
The Mayor broke into another fit of laughter, slapping at the tailor's hands about his waist. The tailor huffed in annoyance.
"So, tell me, who are we "up against" this year? Another fresh-faced political science grad from MKCU? Or maybe one of those up-start small-business types?"
The Mayor chuckled, adjusting his spectacles.
"Running a hookah bar isn't quite like managing a sprawling metropolis, but maybe we can bring some of them on as interns after the election. Those phones don't answer themselves!"
From the other end of the phone, Callie's voice reached a fevered pitch. The Mayor was only half attentive as he listened. He was preoccupied with the latest kilt from Vera Fang, which boasted sleek plaid lines in an unconventional diagonal pattern.
"Hmm? Say that name again, Call-ay."
There was a brief silence, and then Manx's head jerked up. His phone clattered to the floor.
"Commander F-F-Feral?!"
The tailor snapped to attention at the Mayor's sudden outcry. "Commander Feral, running for office? Ooh, he's tough - I'd vote for him!"
Manx's jaw dropped. But his shock quickly turned to unbridled annoyance.
"Reall-ay, Neville! Just for that, I'll be taking my business elsewhere. There are plenty of other fine establishments where a grown tom can buy a small flannel skirt."
Manx stormed out of the fitting room. In his fury, he rampaged through the upscale clothing store, pulling down racks of suits, ties, and throwing random articles of plaid clothing onto the floor. Other patrons of the store were utterly taken aback by the Mayor's uncharacteristic rage. So much so, they began whispering amongst themselves and recording videos to post on FurTube. The Mayor, huffing and puffing, finally reached the entrance to the store and turned around just inside the doorway. His face was so red and steamed, his spectacles were literally fogging over.
"And just so you know - *gasp, wheeze* - I've always thought your stitch work was shodd-ay!"
And with that, Manx had left the building.
"Shodd-ay!"
Meanwhile…
"This is Ann Gora, Katseye News, live outside Enforcer Headquarters. Today I was scheduled to cover the 12th annual MKC Quilt-Con, but someone up there likes me, and we have breaking news instead!"
A large crowd of reporters had swarmed Enforcer Headquarters upon official news of Feral's candidacy. It was a media circus, and everyone was getting in on the interviews. Even the janitorial staff were taking questions on the matter.
"Yeah, I was emptying his trash just yesterday. And you know what fell out?"
"It was a picture of both of them – both of them at the original Dippin' Donuts ribbon cutting ceremony. It was crumpled up, had burn marks on it, and - honest to goodness –"
"-covered in tire tracks! I have copies I'm selling over by my van. It's the one with the shag carpet."
Behind the swarm of reporters and reportees, a figure loomed in a tenth-story window of Enforcer Headquarters. Feral looked down at the scene from his office vantage point, grimacing at the spectacle below.
"Bah, the press. When I'm Mayor, I'll have to do something about that pesky First Amendment. Maybe if that kooky Professor Hackle could create an army of robot slaves for me…."
Feral was jostled from his pondering by the sudden appearance of repel lines outside his window. Down the lines slipped several members of the paparazzi, snapping pictures and asking for muffled exclusives through the glass window.
Feral jumped back from the window, "Kats alive!"He picked up his radio, "Sargent, bring me chopper back-up!"
A helicopter was immediately hovering outside the Commander's window. The Enforcers on-board slid open their side-access door, nearing the unfazed paparazzi. A pair of large hedge-clippers appeared in one of the Enforcers' hands, and with a few quick snips to the repel lines, the paparazzi were gone. Feral whistled, closing his blinds.
"Uncle, is this really true?"
Felina Feral marched into the Commander's office and shoved a tabloid magazine right up to his nose. Commander Feral squinted at the text.
"How should I know if Dark Kat had a two-headed baby?"
"Not that - This!" Felina pointed to the larger headline, "Enforcer Commander Seeks Office; Mayor Rampages Downtown in Stolen Kilt."
"Oh, I thought that APB this morning was just a joke."
"I'm scared to ask, but why do you want to run for mayor? You hate politics!"
"That's right, Felina! I despise politicians and their flim-flam ways. That's why I want to bring change to our city. Change that is straight-forward, by the letter, and most importantly-"
"Tough?"
"Tough!" Feral pounded his fist into his hand, "Felina, you know me better than anyone. You're like family to me!
"…hence why I've always called you 'Uncle'…"
"Why don't you be my campaign manager?"
"Noooho-ho-ho, thank you!" Felina held up her hands, backing away, "You know I'll support you as family. But I don't feel sleazy and low-down enough to be involved in this sort of campaign run."
"I'll do it, sir!" Steele chirped, popping his head into the room.
"Lt. Steele, the pathetic origin of my inspiration, of course! You will head up my campaign. I want it to be hard-hitting, straight-shooting, and above reproach."
"Yeah, yeah - Let the smear campaign begin!"
Felina shook her head, as the Lieutenant rushed from the room.
"I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into. Manx may seem like a cream-puff, but on the inside, I sense he's really a bear-claw."
"Impressive use of a doughnut metaphor, Felina."
"Stay focused, Uncle. Manx is a hardened politician. He has decades of experience running successful campaigns. It's not going to be easy, and I just want to make sure you've really thought this through."
"Oh Felina-mina-bo-bina, banana-fanna, lo-lina," Feral stopped to take a breath, "Since when have you been the cautious one in the family? Girl, chill. As my favorite musical artist Willy Ray Cypress might say - this city is achy-breakin' for some change, and I'm the winds of it!"
Felina had no words. It was clear that the Commander had his heart, mind, and soundtrack set on this, and nothing she could say would be able to deter him. It had all the promise of being one of the greatest showdowns in the history of Megakat City.
No doubt it would also invite the nastiest, most mud-slinging campaign that this city's katizens had ever witnessed.