Chapter16
Mid-summer arrived with its usual spectacular Colorado weather. The 97,434 required votes was only fifty shy in mid-July. Three weeks remained to have petitions signed and submitted to the Secretary of State's Office. Jeanette, having taken a few rare days off, and registering herself to become an official circulator, agreed to canvass with Mac one day. When she arrived that morning at his place Mac was sitting at the computer checking out the Facebook page. "Hey, check this one out."
He was referring to one of today's petition responses. Jeanette read aloud, "You fucking food fascist scum! I'll bar-b-q yer ass and feed it to my dog! You homo! Now quit botherin me! I was just headin out the door for a Double Whopper with cheese and to stock up on my Tootsie Rolls, you anti-Moon Pie fuck!" They both busted out laughing. "Maybe we'll knock at this person's door today Mac."
"Let's hope so. If it's a guy I think he'll much more prefer your rear end."
"Nobody messes with this food fascist, now let's go. When I was registering, I found out that Colorado has yet to allow electronic petition signatures. I figured you all were trying to make a strong point hoofing it."
"I'm sure the state will allow this sometime in the near future when better authenticating can be done, or whatever magic they have in stored for us."
Off the two went south on Alameda Parkway onto Bear Creek Boulevard and left onto West Yale Avenue, a very nice area intimating nothing suggesting hatred of food fascists.
"Did you by chance leave a warm and gracious message on our Facebook page recently?" asked Mac.
"What the hell are talking about boy?"
"Oh, just something referring to a strange type of barbecue and stocking up on junk food."
"Do I look like I eat junk, you punk!" screamed the rather large, white haired, bespectacled, aging man with cane in hand, displaying two, maybe three, hard earned chins. "Sir, with all due respect, we didn't mean to offend you in any way. We, being legally registered and exercising our rights, just wanted you to take a quick look at what is being proposed," Jeanette did her best to calm the moment.
"I already know what you're proposing. You're proposing more government, bigger government; more intrusive, bigger government telling me what I can and can't do. Do I look like some blue Democrat progressive son of a bitch pig! Now get the hell off my property before I call the police!"
"Go eat some pasta, fatso!" certain that he borrowed a line from Dirty Harry Callahan, Mac couldn't help himself.
"Mac!" cried Jeanette.
"What the hell did you just say, you little sumbitch turd!"
"I believe I just told you politely to shove it up your ass, old man. You drew first blood." "You little fucker punk! You and sugar breeches here come pounding on my front door, spreading your garbage, and your punk ass has got the balls to tell me I drew first blood? You little punk! If I was just ten years younger I'd step outside and kick your pussy ass!"
"You mean barbecue it, don't you old man!"
"You jerks are always trying to change this thing or make that thing better when nothin needs fixin or changin. Why don't you find somethin constructive to do; and why the hell do you keep bringin up barbecues for, boy? You gotta be some kind of weirdo or somethin, bringing up barbecues out of the blue. You're one fine lookin woman, what the hell you wanna be seen with jerk off here for?"
"Mac, I swear if you say one more word, I'll kick your ass! Please, don't say anything, let's quietly