It had been one of those afternoons at work. When the phone rang at my desk, I was hopeful that things might be looking up. That, of course, was not to be the case.

"Sorry to disturb your morning, but I have official matters to inform you about." It was Karl. He continued, "I officially took over ask pro-tem candidate at approximately 12 hundred hours, directly after Mark was put under sedation…"

"Sedation! What the hell is this?"

"You weren't informed? Mark underwent a colonoscopy today. I assumed command and will continue to until he is fit to resume his duties."

"So what's the problem," Though I was disturbed that this was the first I had heard of this I was more focused on getting back to sleep.

"He's demanding to be put back in control. I don't think that's wise…"

At this point, Karl was cut off. After what sounded like slapping and scuffling, Mark came on the line. "Damn straight mother-fucker. I'm taking back the helm, number 1," I could hear in the background what sounded like 'I thought I was number 1!" which was answered only by a "Shut the crap up!"

Mark began, "Let me brief you…approximately a day and a half ago my food was tampered with. I think they slipped some kind of listening device in my Eggs Benedict."

"Why would you think that?" None of this was making sense.

"You didn't see how the waitress looked at me. I had never seen her before; I think she was a hippie. You know how those people hate me. She knew something."

"OK, even if she did slip you something, who would want to bug you? And why a colonoscopy, anyways? "

"Last night I felt a sharp pain in the first bend of my colon. I think that's where it lodged. That's where the "polyp" was removed."

"So you had a polyp removed." I could see where this was heading.

"You're not following. After the procedure the good doctor told me he had removed a "polyp" and then winked at me. Furthermore, it was 7 mm in size, the exact size of an ingestible listening device. Obviously he had found the device and was letting me know."

"Why wouldn't he just come out and say it?"

"I don't know, maybe he thought I was CIA and didn't want to get involved…"

A this point I was losing my patience, "You still haven't answered my question: who would want a recorder in your ass so they could spy on you?"

"First off, the colon is not the ass. Secondly, have you even done a cursory background check on the members of the Great Hoboes. It's teaming with unsavory characters. This Gareth Edel kid… What, exactly, does he do for a living? Does he have a job? Do you know what he's doing? I do. Plotting against me." He was beginning to rave.

"I think you still might be feeling the effects of whatever pain killers they gave you." Christ, he was really losing it.

"I haven't even started yet! I had Karl assemble dossiers on every one of the Great Hoboes… They're insane! Look, you've got at least five communists, a guy whose family owns a pizza parlor…well, that's just codeword for mafia… One of these cats is a member of, and I'm including it all here: the Socialist Workers Party, The Workers Socialist Party, The Communal Social Workers Party, The Party of Socially Working Liberals, and MIMM…illiterate Maoist bastards… Holy cow! And what about the Unknown Hobo? Do you even know that guy's name?"

"Yeah, I'm dating his daughter. Remember?"

"Then there's Wade Stuckwisch, he was Lutheran!"

"What does that mean? I'm Lutheran." I was sure this couldn't get more surreal, but unfortunately…

"If I have to explain that, you really need to start doing your homework. The kid's bound to be a steaming pile of pathological neurosis. I also did a little checking on you. Onetime frontman for a Jefferson Airplane cover band…"

"I'm not proud…"

"You're my campaign manager! You answer to a higher level of decency!"

"Thank you, Pat Buchanan…"

"You toured doing a strange hybrid of folk and heavy metal - self-proclaimed 'Cock Rock'. One of your fellow bandmates was close family to a member of the New York Stock Exchange. Amongst your other colleagues in college were the heir to the pizza-disc fortune…"

"Pizza discs?"

"Yeah, y'know, those little things that they put on top of your pizza to prevent the pizza box from crushing the pie?"

"Oh, yeah, Jake. Jake's dad invented those things. Sonofagun…"

"One of your roomies was a Swedish scaffolding assemblyman, and you once house sat for a retired clerk to the U.S. Supreme Court. You used to be a hippie and a republican. How does that make sense?"

"I don't know. You've got a collection of vague half-truths about my life, right there. You already knew about the hippie phase and the Republican thing. Everybody does that at Hampshire College."

"Fine, you're right. But I haven't even gotten to the most serious case. Let me find my notes. This nut job take the cake then shoves it in your grandmother's face. He went to three colleges in his undergraduate career, he's bounced from crappy to craptacular jobs, all the while living in his 'rents' basement. He owned a Winnebago that never left his driveway. What the crap was he hiding in that thing? Politically, it gets worse. He was awarded the rank of Eagle Scout in 1994. Then, in the 1996 labor march on Yale, he signed up for the following political organizations: the American Communist Party, the Social Anarchist Party, the Anarchistically Socialist Party, AARP…"

I could tell where this was going, "So who the hell is this guy?"

More flipping of papers, followed by a long pause, "Oh, crap, that's Mark Hugo. I mean me. I don't remember any of that."

"Like I said, I think the drugs are still affecting you. Why you don't put Karl on for a second."

After a pause Karl came on the line, "What can I do ya for?"

"Why was Mark demanding back "the helm"?"

"Choice of movies for tonight. I told him that A Clockwork Orange was too intense, especially given his mood. I suggested the Mystery Science Theater 3000 movie instead."

"Fine, fine. Put Mark back on." Mark was slow to take the phone. I think he was still confused about his identity. "Look Mark, I think Karl's right. Let him pick the movies, I mean sit in as pro-tem candidate until morning."

"Suppose it couldn't hurt. I'm just saying that we should watch our own people, Tyler. We're running a campaign here." He sounded calmer. More like the candidate I knew he was.

"I'm glad you're keeping vigilant about these things. We'll discuss this all tomorrow. Just get some rest, and let me get back to work."

"Aye aye, campaign manager!"

"Say, Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"One more thing. You had Karl assemble dossiers on everybody, but who assembled a dossier on Karl? What deep dark secrets lie in the bottom of his closet, in a shoebox, underneath a stack of old magazines?"

"Huh?"

"Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?"

Mark chuckled a sardonic laugh. " 'Who watches the watchmen?'. Clever. Yes, I'll have somebody get on it right away."

It's going to be a long road to the White House.

THE MARK HUGO ARCHIVE
The Article That Started it All - Mark's Gubernatorial Campaign Announcement.

Bad Night in The Bunker - Strategy Gone Awry.

Strike A Pose - Image Consultancy in the Post-Carville Era.

An All Time Low.

A Tape Transcript.

Mark's Gubernatorial Concession Speech.

The Beginnings of Mark's Presidential Campaign.

Angry Sports, Elmer Gantry, and Freedom Fries.

Orange Alert, Again.

Mermaid Parade Invitational.

American Idols.

The First Parade.

Independence Day.

California Dreamin'.

Where Do You Go When the Lights Go Out?.

DER GOVERNATORRR!.

Please email your support and suggestions to: tyler@greathoboes.com. Remember, vote early, and vote often!

Tyler M. Carey
Publisher and Editor-in-Chief, The Great Hoboes of New York
Apparent Campaign Manager, Mark Hugo for President '04 Campaign