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By Chick Ribbons
Reporter
November 3, 2000

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Cap'n Wacky says, shaking his head. "It wasn't supposed to be like this at all."

No, you can't vote for him.

He's just talking about the banner above the podium where he's about to speak, but he might as well be talking about his whole campaign. Things haven't been going well for the mascot of Amalgamated Humor and host of www.capnwacky.com this year. In January, another wooden seaman, Cap'n Shifty, announced his intention to run against Wacky for the positions. Since then, Shifty has had a lead in the polls the incumbent couldn't touch.

Then, just this month, an anthropomorphic head of cabbage calling himself The Kraut King also entered the race. But first, back to that banner.

Wacky's campaign manager, Amalgamated Humor Vice President of Public Relations, Gary Newbrunswick, though present for arranging the decorations, has just gotten around to reading it.

We cannot print his actual words upon reading the sign.

"It was supposed to say 'Cap'n Wacky is Stupendous’'" explains Newbrunswick. "I swear. It looks like maybe they ran out of room after the d and crammed the rest in and it came out looking like an exclamation point."

"I guess."

The two of them stare at the banner for several silent seconds.

"Of course, 'stupendous’' doesn't actually start with 'stupid,'" says Newbrunswick.

The Cap'n scratches his bushy white beard. "Maybe we should take it down before the other reporters arrive."

As is turns out, they have plenty of time to do so. No other reporters ever show up, having mistakenly been given directions to the local Chuck E. Cheese, where they decided they would just rather stay and enjoy listening to an animatronic lion sing Elvis tunes.

CAP'N SHIFTY

"That's a very sweet offer," Cap’n Shifty tells an adoring female supporter. "But I'm not really interested in being a father right now. Thanks anyway."

Cap'n Shifty poses for photographers while a handler snatches up yet another baby to be kissed.

It's the same everywhere we go. I’ve hardly had any time to ask him any questions, he's too busy kissing the multitude of babies being shoved in his face and politely declining job offers or proposals of marriage. Sometimes he has to do all three at once.

A young mother pushing a stroller approaches Shifty. She’s shy and has trouble making direct eye contact with the candidate.

"Would you sign this, please? It's for my son," she says, handing him a rubber Amalgamated Humor ball.

"Well, I'm not part of the company yet," he hesitates. "But why not?"

He pulls a pen out from the inside of his shiny yellow slicker. For what seems like the millionth time I watch him sign his name. I've only been with him a short time and I already seem more tired of it than he does. He never seems to get tired.

As the mother walks away we hear her suddenly shriek. She has given the ball to her baby. The baby has stuck it in his throat.

"Stand back, the lot of you!" Cap'n Shifty bellows.

The crowd parts at his words, and before anyone can react further, Shifty has unbuckled the baby and cleared its airway with the speed of a hurricane, but the gentleness of a spring breeze.

He cradles the baby in his left arm and holds the ball above his head with his right.

"This wouldn't have happened with Shifty as mascot," he says.

The sound of the crowd is like thunder- only a thunder with hope. A hopeful kind of thunder.

KRAUT KING

"I'll admit, I’m having a little trouble getting my message out there," Kraut King tells me.

Kraut King encounters a pair of candidates for another position. Like everyone else, they don't stick around to chat with him.

In my years as a journalist, I've covered wars both foreign and urban, seen horrors the like no man this side of Hell should have to witness. I've smelled what napalm does to skin. I've seen a junkie vomit up his spleen. I had to review The Other Sister.

None of these things have filled me with the pure terror or made me want to run like a frightened kitten like the sight of this giant talking head of cabbage wearing a crown.

"W-why do you think that is?" I say, my journalist nerves recovering.

"I don't know. I really don't know," says the King, shaking his leafy mane. "I think maybe people are afraid of change."

"That could be it," I say, though I don't mean it. Please, God, don't let it take another step closer.

"Well, hopefully, that’s all about to be fixed," the cabbage monster says, his delirious smile returning. "Let's go meet the people."

He has a campaign appearance scheduled in a local mall. His people have convinced a lot of the press to show up, and there's a good crowd waiting outside in the parking lot. The Kraut King's name is announced and he walks out on stage.

"Hi, everybody!" he shouts, gleefully. "It's me, Kraut King."

For a moment, there is silence. Then chaos. None of them can escape fast enough.

Hours later, when the fires have all been put out, the looters all gone home, and the trampled taken to the hospital, we sit next to each other on his campaign bus.

"I don't get it," the King says. "I just want to connect with people. Show them the beauty of sauerkraut."

And as he begins to weep softly, my fears go away. The Kraut King is not a monster out to eat me; he is a sad thing who only wants to help. I put my preconceptions away, and for a moment, I put my journalist’s stoic distance away too. I cradle the Kraut King's massive head in my arms, and I lie to him.

"Shh," I whisper. "Everything's going to be OK. Everything's going to be fine."

He sobs softly.

"I need some sauerkraut," he sniffles.