Oh my god… You guys were totally right about Obama!

I woke up this morning, feeling just as cynical about the election as I did… earlier this morning. I brought in the morning paper, but could barely get past the "OBAMA MAKES HISTORY" headline before my incessant eyerolling have me a massive headache, and I gave up. Enough of this, I thought… Time for breakfast!

I got in my Prius, and started driving towards my local co-op, where I planned to buy a cruelty-free omelet, made from eggs lovingly harvested from feral chickens that had died of natural causes while sitting on their infertile eggs. As I rounded the last corner before the co-op, I saw a disheveled Black man, standing on the curb holding a sign that read "WILL WORK 4 FOOD." As I passed him, I was overcome by guilt, and near tears as I imagined what must be this brave man's Sisyphean struggle to rise out of the Ghetto, beat his crack addiction, and bring enough food home each evening to feed his numerous children.

And so I thought about bringing him back an omelet, or maybe a soysage, wheat germ, and kelp chutney breakfast wrap. Then, looking in my rear-view mirrow, I realised that the man wasn't actually black, but maybe some sort of very dark Italian. Or possibly Greek. And so I decided against breaking my fast with him.

But… this still made me think about the Black man I'd imagined him to be. I thought about centuries of slavery, oppression, and injustice. About Rosa Parks, on her bus, and Martin Luther King, on his postage stamp, and all that. And I was surprised as I realised that tears were rolling down my cheeks. I'm not sure why this surprised me, as I generally weep over the assorted injustices of the world at least three times a day, but it did. And soon I began to sob uncontrollably, and was so blinded by my tears in the morning sun that I had to pull over. And I wept, wept as I hadn't wept in days. Yanno, since that PETA video about veal came out.

And my tears streamed down my dashiki, and dropped onto the floor of my car, where they moistened a few lonely hemp seeds that had fallen there. And as I dried my eyes, I witnessed a miracle: The hemp seeds began to sprout! Shoots, in every colour you can imagine, rose up from the floor, and wrapped themselves around me until I was completely immobilised. I closed my eyes, giving myself over to this strange life-form, and I felt myself being lifted into the air, squeezed out the car window, and then… I was flying! Flying in a magical rainbow shroud! I opened my eyes, and once more, I began to sob. Not from sorrow, this time, but… joy! And as I flew, I looked down at America, and saw that the people were weeping as joyously as I was. And I wondered what had caused the American people to rejoice so, today, on this day of woe, the day after they had selected another cookie-cutter political hack to be their president. And, as I rolled my eyes, I felt pity for them, and laughed bitterly.

But then, I flew into a city. It looked like… Washington D.C.! I flew past rows of fancy townhomes, past shiny new shopping malls, and through impoverished neighbourhoods (at which point my tears were once more tears of sorrow), and on and on and on. And then I saw the Washington Monument, and my flight slowed. I felt myself descending once more to Earth! And I landed on the vast lawn of a big white house… the white house, AKA The White House.

The tendrils that had borne me to that place then fell to the ground, and I saw that I was naked. I was briefly quite upset by this, cupping my genitals in my hands, until… I saw that I was surrounded by thousands of other naked people, all staring at me! But then I saw that they weren't looking at me, but at something behind me. And so I turned, and there was Barack Obama, standing next to Dr. King, Nelson Mandela, and LeVar Burton! That Indian fella from the littering commercials was there, as well, for some reason. Also, Bob Marley. None of them were naked, which would probably have been somewhat undignified for people of their stature.

I looked upon this man, who rose up from such humble beginnings, a broken home, the descendant of slaves torn so cruelly from their homelands, etc… Now, the most powerful man in the world! Well, I mean, Obama isn't actually the descendant of African slaves, but he certainly looks like he could be, right? He smiled at me, and I felt a warm glow come over me. How could I have doubted him? Isn't this what we've been thinking about fighting for, all these long years? What… what had I done, that day, only yesterday, when I… I could hardly bring myself to think it! Stumbling forward, I fell to my knees before Him, and began, once more, to weep. He laid His hand on my shoulder, and said: "What ails you, citizen?"

And I choked out: "I…I… v-v-voted for… Nader! C-c-can you… ever forgive me, Mr. P-p-president-Elect?"

But He said nothing, just smiled, bent forward, lifted me into His arms, and gently kissed me on the forehead. He held me there for several hours, until I cried myself to sleep.

I awoke on the lawn, swathed in His sports jacket, surrounded now by… millions! Americans of every hue, chanting His name! "O-ba-ma! O-ba-ma!" A herd of unicorns galloped past, and, somehow, this seemed not to be unusual. Not here. Not now. Barack was standing on the front steps of the White House, waving and smiling. He then looked at His watch, sucked air through His teeth, and made one of those "yeah, well, it's about that time…" faces. And with a wink in my direction, He mounted one of the unicorns, and rode it up the steps and through the front doors of His new home. As the doors closed behind Him, a change, a wondrous change, began to take place: Those white walls were bathed in colours, beautiful rainbow colours! And at that, I fell in a swoon.

When I came to, I was back in my Prius, parked in front of the co-op. My dashiki was still moist from the tears, but there was no sign of the rainbow tendrils. I opened my door, and moved to get out, but my left leg was asleep. I faceplanted onto the asphalt. I lay there for a moment, trying not to cry, when I felt a hand on my shoulder… the same shoulder He had touched… when? It seemed like ages ago. Or moments. A man's voice said: "You alright, mister?" I looked up, and saw a young black man standing there, offering me his hand. I took it, and he helped me to my feet.

I noticed that my sustainable teakwood bifocals were slightly damaged from the fall, but I was otherwise unharmed. "Yes, I'm OK. Thanks!"

The young man smiled at me, shook my hand, and nodded his head at the Obama sign in the co-op window. "Yes, we did, huh?"

I nodded sheepishly, aware of my betrayal the day before, even though I had since been shriven on that mystical rainbow lawn. The man gently slapped me on the shoulder, and jogged off before I could get his name, or even offer him an omelet.

And at that moment, I realised that I'd never more have to feel guilty about slavery. And I wept.

---Will