Part 1:
First Hundred Days
“All this will not be finished in the first one hundred days. Nor will it be finished in the first one thousand days . . .nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin.” -- John F. Kennedy


Election Night
November 5th

"It is now just after midnight here on the east coast and we can now confirm that Virginia Governor Michael Norman will be the 45th President of the United States. The key swing states of Ohio and Minnesota have been called for Norman and the Democratic stronghold of California has been called in his favor. This pushes him to 286 electoral college votes compared to the 251 votes Vice-President Hayes is projected to have. This news comes on top of the news from earlier tonight, that of course the stunning shift in power in the House of Representatives. For the first time in eight years the Republicans are back in control of the House after the Democrats lose their slim majority. As many as forty seats are gained by Republicans, giving them a clear majority in the House. How the new Congress and the new president will work together remains to be seen, but the news at this hour is that Michael Norman will be the next President of the United States."

House of Representatives Opening Session
January 3rd

Four hundred and thirty-five newly elected members of the House mingled and waited for the opening session to begin. Many of them were old hands at this, either long time congressmen or veterans at the state level, and many more were newcomers to the whole thing. Regardless of their seniority, everyone buzzed excitedly at the prospect that lay ahead. Legislative battles, late night bull sessions, and showdowns with the White House would come later. Now was the time for optimism of what might be.

"Members of the House," the Clerk of the House said from her seat just below the speaker's chair. "Welcome to the opening session of the 114th Congress. As is our tradition, voting will now commence on the new Speaker of the House. One they are elected, congressmen will be sworn in and this session will be opened. Let the voting commence."

Tommy clutched his M4 carbine awkwardly to his small frame. It was not made for him, and it was heavy. His joints ached, but he had to keep going. He could feel the warmth of his own breath as it passed the tip of his nose. It was early November, and the forest floor was coated with damp, brown leaves. He took each step quietly. Tommy was good at being quiet - being a dwarf meant he weighed much less than the average man. Occasionally, his stubby legs would scraped hard against the crackling leaves, or he would start wheezing so loud that he had to stop, but at least his foot-falls were gentle.

He heard the sharp crack of an automatic rifle's report. duhduhduh. It sent his heart beating. He squinted and scanned the treeline. Brown. Brown. Brown. A camouflage pattern brought to life, fading into the morning fog.

duhduhduh duhduhduh Were they getting closer. He listened, and heard voices made faint distance and muffled by the cold humidity.

Tommy moved slower now, prowling catlike in the overpriced camo poncho that he wore over his clothes. He listened. He watched. He waited.

The snapping of a twig caused him to jerk his head. He saw movement, and there it was. A buck, out of the woods so suddenly that Tommy wondered at how he had not seen it coming. He leveled his gun. The animal stared at him, but it did not move. How did it not understand what was happening here? It was time to take the shot. Tommy took a deep breath, and slowly began to press down on the trigger...

Vwhoom, they came over a hill suddenly. A John Deer Gator loaded with drunk politicians. "Fack..." Tommy jumped, and he fired. The deer ran, and Tommy lost control of the rifle. He fell back on his ass, and the loud burst from his gun cut a branch from a thin undergrowth tree.

The other men laughed. Tommy felt moisture soaking into his clothes, and he did not know why he ever did this. They helped him into the back of the Gator, and he sat beside the stinking, bleeding corpse of a young buck that had been shot into two halves.

---

After a day of it, they set up in a field, where the sun was going down and the crackle of a campfire kept them warm. This he liked - sitting down, and enjoying the ghostly sight of twilight as it settled over the countryside and cloaked everything behind the woodline in darkness. The smell of fire, the feeling of the cold air, that creeping knowledge that everything behind your back was an open wilderness hiding in the dark, this was his natural place. Naturally. The towelheads had their desert, the colored's had their jungles, and a white man of Gallic ancestry had the woods.

They had ported with them a 57 inch Plasma TV and hooked it up to a gas-powered generator. The generator's clunking buzz annoyed Tommy in some profound way he could hardly understand, but he kept it to himself. Here, surrounded by cousins and uncles, in-law's and brothers, they watched as election results poured in.

They rooted for the Republican Candidate, Hayes, in the same way they would be cheering for football when Thanksgiving came around. The Presidency hardly effected the North Missouri political machine, and Tommy knew he had his office in the bag. There had been no democrat to run against him - only a libertarian supported by a renegade faction of Tea Partiers and anti-Pollaxes voters.

"Do you think Marty is going to give a speech?" The properly slushed Rolan Pollaxes slurred. He was the mayor of Bethany, and Tommy's eldest cousin. Rolan thought he was important because his town had a Wal-Mart.

"Dear Hillbillies" Rolan put on a whiny, mocking voice. "I should not have lost. If I was Congressman, we would smoke weed every day and never ever pay a tax for anything again."

Everyone laughed. Even Tommy. It wasn't that funny, but Tommy had drank enough that just hearing everyone else laugh was enough. Martin Woolcruncher had been a threat early on, but he had fallen deep enough into the Tea Party to scare away many of those moderates who might have voted for him only to spite the Pollaxes. There was very little money in this district. Many knew, deep down, that the far-reaching threats he made toward government spending would mean less welfare for them. For a someone up here, their opposition to welfare ended where the city began. It was those minorities and their welfare queens that caused the problems. But nobody could make a living in these small towns without a little bit of help from the government.

"Damn, there goes Ohio." someone else said. "Looks like it is going to be Norman."

"That is good." Tommy squeaked. "Lets hope he does something to piss off our people. Then all I'll have to do to get reelected the next time is bitch about the president."

Everyone laughed. Tommy laughed.

"You'll be in office long enough to be a senator!"

"That's not how it works, Flan." Tommy answered. Flan Pollaxes was his great uncle. Even at seventy two, he didn't seem that competent.

"Well..." he thought. "Maybe you'll be in there long enough that i'll become the Assessor!"

Everybody laughed. "If Great Grandpa Ulysses retired." Tommy said. "He won't die, but he might retire..."

"Pfff." Flan answered. "He's already in that old folks home in Grant City. Can't think straight, but they just keep voting him in!"

Everybody laughed. It was true.

---3 months later

Around him, old men buzzed. The House was full of activity, as most of the congressmen flocked in hoping to make their faces known. Tommy had mingled for a while, but he had grown bored of it. Most politicians weren't sure how to react to a man half their height, and talking to them tired him too. He settled down in his seat. It smelled like stale paint, and it was horribly uncomfortable. People didn't fight over these seats to feel comfortable. A fifteen dollar lawn-chair would have sufficed better for that purpose alone.

"Members of the House," he heard the Clerk of the House say across the hall "Welcome to the opening session of the 114th Congress. As is our tradition, voting will now commence on the new Speaker of the House. One they are elected, congressmen will be sworn in and this session will be opened. Let the voting commence."

"Jesus..." Tommy muttered under his breath. He decided to wait for a few minutes. He pulled out his phone and looked at his recent texts. None. He had been anticipating something from a guy in Sweden selling an old ancient Gallic Helmet. He looked over pictures of it again. Good shape. Impressive. Much more interesting than this.

But this was how he got the money. And he was expected to be here.

November 5
Hawaii County, Hawaii

Bridget lay back in her wicker recliner; the white paint was faded and chipping. She closed her eyes and felt as the sun mercilessly beat against her skin as the waves pound onto the beach. The wind wavered between the smells of fruit - pineapple, mango, coconut - and the subtle odor of the sea breeze. A cool current drifts shapelessly across her form, drawing goosebumps along in its wake. Her soft rhythmic breathing was being silhouetted against a crimson Hawaiian sunset. The robust curves of maternity made themselves apparent, concealed none by a bathing suit that would send a nun into an anaphylactic fit.

The soft, lulling tropical aura was broken by the sound of sand being shuffled underfoot.

A gruff masculine voice called out, “Hey there, Senator.”

Bridget strained to look over her shoulder at the sound of the voice, knowing full well who owned it. She smiles a bit and turned about to look out over the ocean, “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, husband."

“Yeah, you too.”

Bridget’s husband, Ronald, is a tall caucasian man of roughly six foot, he has a scraggly beard and unkempt hair that makes him resemble a castaway more than the spouse of a U.S. congresswoman. He bent over, planting a kiss on her lips before standing up beside her. His hand rubbed idly over her shoulder.

“Let’s get inside. It’s about to start.”

“Yeah, alright,” she sighed as she stumbled to her feet with the help of her mate. She smiled and kissed him softly and followed him into their humble abode - a ninety by ninety foot bungalow, central heating, running water, the works. The two settled down on a wide wicker couch, painted white like the recliner but in considerably better condition. A large bulky television, dating back at least twenty years, rested on an even more dated cabinet. It screened updates on the presidential election. The two watched as result after result poured out of the television screen, though they were much more focused on mundane flirting than the election. At the end, when the results were in and Norman had assumed the throne of the most powerful man on Earth, the two had already retired to the bedroom to do the horizontal bop.

The morning haze masked most recollection of the events that had transpired the last night, though a quick glance at the news channel made the election results evident. The familiar scent of cheeseburger wafted throughout the bungalow; accompanied by the sounds of a muffled stereo.

Cheeseburger in Paradise.

---

December 26
Honolulu International Airport, Honolulu, Hawaii

After a brief farewell rendezvous, Bridget was finally on her way to catch her 9:00 A.M congressional flight from Honolulu to Washington. She flashed her congressional I.D. to the men at the airport security and walked idly down the terminal to her gate; as expected, she was the first - and only - congressman on the 9:00 A.M. The Representative looked around the first-class cabin of the airliner. It was fairly spacious, as spacious as an airplane could be. The seats reclined and were surprisingly comfortable; she had almost forgotten the feel of luxury that came with living and working in Washington. Beside her was an empty seat, likely reserved by one of the other congressmen who had planned on flying out on one of the other flights that they had booked.

Bridget felt her body being pushed back into the seat gently by the force of the plane taking off. The muffle roar of the engines could be heard, even here. When the captain announced that the plane was stable she reclined her seat as far back as it could go and closed her eyes in a futile attempt to relax. She was far too eager to get back into the chamber.

Coming to the realization that her attempts to sleep were in vain, Bridget sat up and focused her attention on the in-flight movie, Gone With the Wind - an unfortunate title to be playing on an airliner. The movie was little more entertaining than the dead-silent flight and by the end waitstaff were journeying the aisles with dishes stacked on carts; a full two course lunch was placed in front of her - chicken marsala and angel hair pasta accompanied with a full bottle of California red, which she stowed away for later. After her meal, she soon fell back into the sleep that had so easily eluded her before until she was jostled by the battle-cries of economy class, who were applauding the plane's safe landing on the tarmac of Ronald Reagan National Airport.

---

December 26
Ronald Reagan National Airport, Washington D.C.

At the gate her congressional aide Neil O’Conner, a spritely young man in his mid-twenties with closely cropped hair that gives off a business casual look. He holds a sign in large Sharpie letters - Melika. As he sees her stumble off the plane, suffering from a dreadful case of jet lag. The two walk for a short while before Neil speaks up,

“Welcome back to Washington, rep.”

“Yeah, it’s good to be back.”

“You’ve got a pile of bill propositions stacked up, they’re on your desk.”

“And you have a bottle of wine, on me.”

“You’re not going to- oh, yeah.”

Bridget hands him the pilfered bottle of wine and holds one arm under her stomach and one hand above it.

“My bags?”

“Gerald is getting them now.”

“Good, good.”

“I booked you a suite at The Hay-Adams.”

“Alright, I’ll be in the office tomorrow.”

They had reached her taxi by now, the bags were almost finished being loaded up. Bridget slipped into the backseat of the cab as Neil held it open for her, she waved out the window as the car sped off to the Hay-Adams. Her room was modest for a 5-star suite. It resembled a studio apartment, the king-size bed overlooked a small ensemble of living chairs arranged around a television set. The bathroom was even more compact than at her home on the Big Island. But it was more than enough for a woman of modest taste.

The bellhop brought her bags up the suite and deposited them beside the bed. She thanked him and tipped him graciously before falling back onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling. After a short time she rolled over to her side and looked out the window over the White House lawn before falling back into a dinner-less sleep.

---

January 3
House Chamber, Washington D.C.

After a week of menial housekeeping work, the day finally came for the first session of the House. As she stepped into the chamber, she found it nearly empty except for a few representatives from California and one from Iowa. Within the next hour the floor was flooded with commotion as fresh-faced representatives and familiar faces filled the chamber - some literally tripping over each other. She looked on with bemusement until the Clerk started off the procession.

“…Let the voting commence.”

She sighed and looked down at her desk. A slip of paper and a fountain pen were provided for the ballot - knowing full well the futility of her vote against the republican majority she picks up the pen and inks on it ’Present'.

"After much speculation since election night, the House of Representatives has its Speaker. Marcellus Kahnt, in his sixth term as the lone congressman from North Dakota, was elected Speaker of the House this morning with a vote that fell mostly along party line. Kahnt is seen as a compromise candidate among the different Republican factions. More of a Tea Party member in ideals, but pragmatic enough to get deals done. And of course the big question at hand is how a House led by Kahnt will work with President-Elect Norman and his campaign pledges that drastically conflict with most of the House Member's ideologies."

Inauguration Day
January 21st

"Our time is now, our goals are clear, and our purpose is true. The voters have put their trust in myself, Vice-President Reed, and Congress to guide this nation into days of even brighter prosperity. For all of us recently elected, we were not elected to be something but to do something. We cannot have our government slowed by legislative gridlock and partisan politics. We must all rise above that, this is why I am challenging Congress and my new administration to pass a tax reform bill within the first one hundred days of this new Congress. Tax reform was one of the major issues of my campaign, and I promised to make those that make the most in their country will give back their fair share. Together we will bridge the income inequality gap and restore the middle class."

Excerpt from President Norman's Inaugural Address

November 5th,

"Americans and North Dakotans, it is my purpose to make perfectly clear how honored and humbled I am that you have selected me to be your representative in Washington. I take it as my sacred oath to be worthy of the continued trust you have placed in me.

There is no small amount of people deserving of my greatest thanks. My staff, who've been working on 8 hours of sleep per week since October in our busy little Fargo office. My gracious wife, for being willing to let me subject us both to the strains of the campaign for the seventh time.

I have already spoken with Mr. Gregs...

[Interrupted by a chorus of booing]

Now now, we're supposed to be the "Peace Garden" state! As I was saying, he was exceptionally gracious and while he and I had some disagreement about the means, he and I had the same goal, that of a happier and prosperous republic, and the very fact that he would put his life on hold for a year in defense of his values is commendable.

Now in the coming days, I will return to Washington to continue to fight for North Dakotans. I will make good on the commitments I've made. It is my sincere hope and goal that North Dakota will continue to lead the nation in job-creation and middle class growth.

Thank you, and God Bless ND!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The afternoon ofJanuary 3rd.

Marcellus recieved the gavel from the old speaker with pride. After a few words of gratitude, he banged the gavel ceremoniously and called the session to order. They pushed through a few meaningless bills by voice vote and before they knew it, the day ended.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"O'NEAL: I'm Nick O'Neal and thanks for watching us tonight. Republican Unification! That is the subject of this evening's memorandum.

Over the past few years, the new Tea Party movement has conflicted with, the establishment. It is, or should I say, was believed that this divide lead to low Republican turnout and Norman's election. 'Memorandum' believes this divide has recently been patched.

In a rare example of the hardliners in intraparty skirmishes being set aside and cooler heads prevailing, a certain Congressman Kahnt of North Dakota was elected. Mr. Kahnt, while an ardent conservative, appears to have deliberately avoided open association with the Tea Party label. This appears to have paid dividends.

In the end, 'Memorandum' believes that the durability of this reconciliation depends on how well Speaker Kahnt walks the fence.

Here tonight for reaction is none other than Speaker Kahnt himself. Speaker Kahnt, I'd like to start by welcoming you and offering you my congratulations.

SPKR. KAHNT: My pleasure, Nick.

O'NEAL: So have you spoken with the president? Has he called to congratulate you?

SPKR. KAHNT: Indeed he has.

O'NEAL: And how was that?

SPKR. KAHNT: Very cordial. The President is a real gentleman, you know? We had a pleasant talk about what the next few years were going to look like.

O'NEAL: Did he eh, mention this tax reform bill he wants passed? Any more specifics?

SPKR. KAHNT: Not much more than you already know. I'm very pleased to tell you he didn't fax me a bill already written. He seems to want every step to be cooperative, at least for now. I look forward to working with him on it.

O'NEAL: But judging from the speech and the campaign promises, his idea and your idea of tax reform...don't exactly fit. I'm a simple man, Mr. Speaker. Going to be awful hard to cooperate with someone with a different goal than yours.

SPKR. KAHNT: I don't neccesarily agree with lowering income inequality for its own sake, but I do believe the sound policies I will present to the president in the next few days about reducing corporate welfare, ending some of the more patently absurd tax breaks and anticompetitive subsidies to big business along with lowering the corporate tax rate in a revenue-neutral way will level the playing field, promote growth, strengthen the economy, and small business along with the middle class."

January 21st
Cannon House Office Building, Washington D.C.

Bridget had propped her bare feet up on the desk of her Washington office to idly listen to the President’s inaugural speech over the television. She twirled a pen between her fingers. Her late-day trance was broken by the President’s address to congress:

“...I am challenging Congress and my new administration to pass a tax reform bill within the first one hundred days of this new Congress.”

Bridget held the pen still and clicked it a couple of times against the surface of her desk, “…tax reform, huh?”

She reached down, picked up her cellphone and sent out a message to all of her office staff: Tax reform, I want ideas on my desk within the week. Pay raise for whoever brings me the best solution.

She then leaned back in her chair and retreated into her daze for the rest of the inauguration before retreating to her White House suite and falling asleep next to a half-eaten plate of veal parmigiana.

—

January 22nd
Hay-Adams Hotel, Washington D.C.

She got an early start at twelve o’clock that day with a call from her aide, who after watching a recap of the Speaker’s interview on the Fox Nightly News with Nick O’ Neal, called her up proposing the speaker’s ideas for cutting corporate welfare, tax breaks, and anti-competitive subsidies. While lowering corporate taxes.

Bridget rubbed her eyes and yawned, “Yeah, alright…. how much do we spend on that corporate welfare?”

“Uh… hold on.”

After a short period and one google search later, Neil speaks up again, “One-hundred and fifty billion.”

Bridget blows a raspberry into the phone, “Alright, let’s cut it. Those other subsidies too. Is Ashley at the office?”

“Yeah… she’s uh… right here. Hold on.”

“Go for West.”

“Hey Ash, what’s our projected revenue for next fiscal year?”

“Uh… three trillion.”

“…and expenses minus corporate welfare and anti-competition subsides an~d… veteran’s benefits?”

“Three point one trillion.”

“Fuck… I need you to run some numbers.”

“Alright boss, what do you want to run?”

“I want you to mess with the income tax brackets until we’re in the green. Start from the top, no more than five-percent increase across the board.”

“Alright, hold up.”

“A long silence ensues as Ashley runs the numbers, “Alright, I rounded up the highest bracket to 40%, raised the next one to 36%, next to 35% and the next to 30%. That should put us in the green next year.”

“Alright, minor income tax increases. I think we’ve cracked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, put Neil and yourself down for a one-thousand pay increase each.”

“Sure thing, boss. Sounds good.”

“Put Yvette on the line.”

“Salut, Yvette here.”

“Hey, Yvette. I need you to draft a tax reform bill for the congress.”

“Oui, oui. What do you want?”

“Cut corporate welfare, anti-competition subsidies, and non-wounded veterans benefits and increase income tax brackets to 10, 15, 25, 30, 35, 36 and 40 percent.”