I’ve decided that you gotta run for mayor.
“I’ve decided that you gotta run for mayor.” Randy just looked at Elvis on his porch. “I love our conversations, Elvis.” He turned around and started to shut the door without saying another word, but Elvis stepped up and held the door open. Randy just let him come into the house. He walked over to the computer desk and focused on the computer. “I’m not running for mayor, Elvis.”
Elvis took off his cowboy hat and sat on the futon next to the computer. “I picked up Tort at the airport yesterday and he looks older than Methuselah. I don’t know if the old guy’s got it in him to be mayor anymore. I kinda thought Florida woulda done ‘im good, but he looks older than I ever saw ‘im.” Randy fidgeted with his mouse, pretending not to listen to Elvis. “I’m not running for mayor, Elvis.”
“When have I ever given you bad advice? I told ya to cut your weeds so your house don’t get on fire, but you didn’t believe me until Roscoe took you up to the mountain and told ya the same thing. I told ya you need to get a REAL hobby, not this computer stuff all the time and you STILL don’t believe me. I KNOW you’re just stewin’ in here, boy!” Randy looked guilty, but kept his eyes on the computer screen. “Now, I tell ya to run for mayor of Merriton and you still ain’t listenin’ to me. When you gonna get it in your head that maybe I might know what I’m talkin’ about?!”
Randy shook his head. “I’m NOT running for mayor. I don’t even know why Merriton HAS a mayor. We run just fine without government.” Elvis smacked the fluffy futon. “That’s ’cause alla us are pickin’ up the slack and even then, stuff is fallin’ through the cracks. Take the Onion Festival. Last year, we just didn’t have one. All these people from Up North came down to go to the Onion Festival and it just didn’t happen. I don’t want that! When Tort was up to speed, we had us a perfect little town here, but A.S. just isn’t willin’ to do what she’s supposed ta do. Sure, she’ll do the legal paperwork and stuff, but she doesn’t want to build a community. She lived her whole life in a community, but she’s not willing to work to keep it alive.”
Randy typed the words, “onion festival merriton” into Google and looked at the search results. He found a newspaper write up from the paper Up North from two years ago talking about the festival. “Onion Pie?” Elvis’ face flushed a dark red under his tanned skin. “Onions get sweet when you cook ‘em right. You ain’t never had a pie ’til you had Onion Pie.” Randy shook his head. “I’m not running for mayor, Elvis.”
The old cowboy stood up angrily. “You don’t learn too quick, do ya, boy?! We keep offering ya chances to be a part of this town and you keep pushin’ us away. Look at this house. I betcha if I went upstairs, that old Armitus’ furniture is still up in those rooms. Everybody you brought here has settled in and loves it here. That Bree girl is happy workin’ at The Thunder Brothers. I even heard she got a girlfriend Up North that she goes to visit on the weekends.” Randy kept his gaze on the computer screen. He hadn’t heard that Bree had a girlfriend. He wondered if this new girl was as mean to Bree as Andrea had been.
Elvis walked over to the computer desk and grabbed Randy by the cheeks, making him look him in the eye. “You’re not listenin’ to me, boy! Your wife wants ta buy all my goats, but I ain’t gonna give ‘em to her unless I know you’re gonna stay here a while. You know everybody who lives here only stays a couple a years and everything I see ’boutcha tells me that you aren’t even here right now. I think you’re twelve hours away in San Francisco still tryin’ to run a company you don’t own anymore. Heck, your little lady got a shake named after ‘er at the cafe. She’s all ready to stay here, even though it’s ’bout killin’ her. I ain’t never seen a girl that skinny that ain’t on TV.”
Randy stood up, tearing his face away from Elvis. “Shut up. Sierra has a problem with running. That’s not my fault. She had that problem before we ever came here.” Elvis shook his head. “I’m not buyin’ that story. When she came here, she was perfect, but the longer she been here, the skinnier that girl’s got.” Randy ran his hand from his forehead to his chin in one long swipe. “She pretty much had it under control when we were in San Francisco. It did get worse here.”
Elvis’ voice calmed down and he patted Randy on the shoulder. “I’m just tryin’ to help ya. Bein’ mayor’s a lot like runnin’ a company. That thing you did with the Thunder Brothers… that projects thing. That’s EXACTLY the kind of thing a small town needs to stay healthy and we haven’t had somethin’ like that since Tort left.” Randy paced around the living room and Elvis continued, “Everyone you’ve brought here is settlin’ in but you, boy. Even Kevin is buying the Townsend house up in Emigration. Sure, it’s a different town, but he’s ready to settle right in with us all.”
Randy stopped pacing, “Wait, what?” Elvis ran his hand along the back of his sunburned neck. “Kevin is buyin’ the Townsend house.” Randy was seething with anger and worry. “Mira Townsend’s house? The one where Ricky Townsend OD’d?” Elvis nodded and the realization came over him. “You don’t think he’s buyin’ that house just ’cause Mira owned it, do ya?”