Building a better mouse trap

Satire by Allan McNew

After eating in a popular lunch spot just down the street from the Sacramento Capitol Building freelance journalist Ned Spinundspiel noticed a business next door with a small sign proclaiming “Institute for Political Integrity.” Needing to turn out a story in addition to being curious, Ned stepped inside.

There was a man working on a contraption which looked like a giant rat trap. He resembled “Doc Brown” (Christopher Lloyd), wild hair, white coat, four watches and all in the 1985 film “Back to the future.” He had a 60 watt light bulb in his lab coat pocket.

Ned introduced himself, then said “I was intrigued by your signage outside. Can you tell me about it?” The man introduced himself as Fester Adams and replied “We’ve worked long and hard at promoting political integrity in all the usual ways, phone calls, angry letters to the editor, eventually escalating to all the work and expense of lawsuits and recall drives. Then one Independence Day I woke up in the morning after having a dream in which the answer was so clear and simple, the only hard part was the chemistry, which took a few years to sort out. The next day I liquidated my life savings and rented this office space. At first I worked alone, but managed to attract funding and was able to hire a couple of my nephews.”

“How does your program work, and what does chemistry have to do with political integrity?” Ned asked. Fester replied “It’s easier to show you than explain.”

Fester retrieved a huge stack of bills held together with rubber bands from a drawer. Except for the top bill, which was a $100 note, it was comprised of paper which was matched in color and consistency of real money. This he tied on the trigger with some butcher string.

He then stepped over to a low geared electric motor mounted on the side of the rig, engaged the dogs on a shaft which was attached to the spring and turned the motor on. The trap u-bar moved up and back until it was nearly flush with the trap deck, whereupon Fester engaged a couple of safeties in case the trap sprung while he set the trigger bar. After that, Fester said “This happens fast” and released the safeties, backed the motor off enough to release the dogs, and sprayed a liquid on the stack of money on the trigger.

Almost immediately the door crashed open and a man wearing a suit and tie and clutching a half eaten sandwich burst into the room. He paused to sniff the room, then spotting the stack of bills he threw the sandwich to the side, ran forward and dived on the money like a football player recovering a fumbled ball.

The trap snapped on him. The legs kicked a couple times then became still.

“What the hell just happened?” Ned asked. Fester showed him the label on the sprayer: “Fresh Sex scent.”

“This setup is irresistible to most politicians, the kind who suck up your volunteer time and donations to their campaign then blow you off and screw you over after they’ve been elected, the sociopath narcissists who feel your pain until in office, then work overtime to add to it. I had to fine tune the scent so it lasted just long enough to attract them from next door one at a time.”

“I created some variations, a blend of ‘Communist Spy’ and ‘Fresh Sex’ would work well for, say, Eric Swalwell. ‘Communist Spy’ alone would probably be best for Diane Feinstein. Some respond best to ‘Page Boy’. The scent brings ‘em in, and the pile of money nails them. I’m getting ready to incorporate and sell shares in the business.”

Fester finished the sandwich after Ned left.

Early next morning Ned was checking his news feed from The Delta Worker’s Bee Telegraph-Journal and saw the columns next to each other respectively headlined “California no longer a one party state” and “Rash of bodies floating down the Sacramento River.”

Ned didn’t write a story about the Institute for Political Integrity’s rat trap, but years later found that Fester became rich and moved to Monaco. He took his light bulb and nephews with him.