A Narrative by Brooke Beck
Chapter 1: Marbles
“What was that?” Clyde asked aloud to no one. He had just been startled by a loud crash from somewhere within his small two-bedroom home. Clyde lived on a quiet street in Pennsylvania where he knew his neighbors – a break-in was unlikely. Leisurely, Clyde strode out of his bedroom where he had been folding laundry. He crossed a narrow hallway and turned into his living room.
“Marbles!” he exclaimed, nearly tripping over the 70-pound pit bull. Marbles didn’t move.
At first, Clyde thought nothing of Marbles’ motionlessness; she was a rather lazy girl, surprisingly sausage-like in physique. Clyde only became alarmed when he noticed the shattered vase at Marbles’ side and the puddle of drool forming on the carpet beneath her muzzle. As Clyde was inspecting Marbles’ breathing – which had an abnormally rapid, almost heaving quality to it – Marbles began to convulse.
Recognizing the signs of a seizure, Clyde hurriedly attempted to sweep the shards of broken glass away from Marbles with his socked foot, having minimal success. The pieces mostly just stuck to his sock and became deeper embedded in the bright red 70s-era carpet. Realizing his efforts were futile, Clyde settled on tucking his shirt under Marbles’ side so she wouldn’t come in contact with the glass.
As Marbles continued to shake, she bumped her football of a head on the end table from which the vase had fallen. Silently cursing his future in-laws for dumping their unwanted furniture at his house, Clyde picked up the table and hurled it across the living room toward his front door. It landed on the carpet a few feet away with a soft thud.
Marbles’ seizure probably only lasted for a minute or two, but it felt so much longer to Clyde. He hated watching her helpless and out of control. What broke his heart more was wondering how Marbles must feel, not understanding what was happening to her and why. Marbles’ vet had put her on phenobarbital two years ago – shortly after Clyde adopted her – to control her seizures, and while the medication significantly reduced the number of seizures Marbles was having, today must’ve been one of her Bad Days.
Though her seizure seemed to be over, Clyde continued to monitor Marbles. He waited to see if her breathing would slow down and return to normal, but it didn’t; it actually just became louder and raspier. She sounded a little bit like a V8 engine in the worst way. She didn’t get up off the floor and she barely blinked.
—
“I can’t talk right now sugar booger; I’m pulling into the vet’s office with Marbles. Something is wrong.” Clyde said to Dixie Ticonderoga, his girlfriend of eight years, as soon as he picked up her call. Dixie could hear what sounded like snoring in the background.
“Okay. See you tonight?” Dixie asked.
“Sure. See you ton-” Clyde began to respond. “Never mind. The damn vet’s office is closed for National Cheese Doodle Day. What am I supposed to do now?”
“I don’t know… maybe you could just bring her back home?” Dixie responded, absentmindedly. Clyde cared way too much about that dog.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m going to take her to the 24/7 clinic in Easton.” Clyde decided, turning his car out of the only emergency veterinary office in their county. Dixie could hear his tires screeching as Clyde pulled back onto the highway, presumably toward Easton, which was over two hours away from their small town.
“Okay.” Dixie said. She hung up the phone before Clyde could say goodbye.
—
By the time Clyde arrived at the 24/7 veterinary clinic in Easton, Marbles needed some help from a few technicians to even get inside. She didn’t want to walk on her own. Thankfully, a veterinarian was able to assess Marbles right away. Her breathing sounded like a straight-piped tractor trailer going downhill because she’d had a pulmonary edema – fluid in her lungs. The pair stayed overnight at the clinic so that Marbles could undergo oxygen therapy.
Chapter 2: Congressman Daniel Paul Thomas
Although Marbles had been doing much better after her oxygen therapy at the 24/7 emergency vet, Clyde couldn’t shake his feeling of unease. What would have happened if he had decided to just take Marbles home after finding the first vet closed for National Cheese Doodle Day? Could Clyde have lost her? How many other pet owners go through this very same issue?
When awful things happen to humans – cardiac events, body trauma, strokes – they’re whisked away to human hospitals where they receive prompt medical attention. Why couldn’t it be the same for animals?
—
“Whatcha doin?” Dixie asked.
“Ehhh…” Clyde scribbled away at a spiralbound notebook. “Trying to write a letter to this guy I found. Apparently, he’s the US Representative for our area. Congressman Daniel Paul Thomas.”
“Oh? What’s that for? I didn’t think you really cared about politics.” Dixie inquired.
“I guess I don’t, but I’ve really been thinking about what happened to Marbles. I had to drive her, what, like three hours away? What if she didn’t have three hours?” Clyde sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. This had become somewhat of a huge stressor for him. “I just want to see if there’s anything these guys can do, you know. It’s not fair. Why are there all of these corporate-run hospitals popping up and no veterinary clinics? If our dog is sick, are we just supposed to move closer to the city, so we know we’ll have better access to a 24/7 clinic?”
Dixie turned away from Clyde, having lost interest. Dixie was primarily motivated by survival – she just wanted to go to work, make enough money to live comfortably, and come home. She didn’t care much about extracurriculars, such as political activism. Besides, she had their wedding to plan. It’s not like Clyde was helping much.
“Just don’t get your hopes up about a response,” Dixie began. “I bet those guys just underpay some interns to come up with non-responses and call it ‘constituent engagement.’”
“Yeah…” Clyde muttered.
“Anyway. I’m going for a run.” Dixie said. She patted Clyde on the head and left, her Sketchers squeaking across the linoleum as she walked away.
Despite Dixie’s mildly discouraging (albeit probably true) words, Clyde signed his letter with his full name, cell phone number, social security number, and return address.
—
Congressman Thomas called Clyde’s cell about six days after Clyde mailed his letter. The call came in while Clyde was at work, much to the dismay of his boss, Rashida.
Rashida Zeigler was a classic micromanager. As the Administrative Manager of Administration at Business Unlimited, Ltd., Rashida was in the perfect position to delegate her managerial duties to those under her (employees such as Clyde) and then take credit for her employees’ hard work with upper management. Clyde was a known top-performer, so he was a favorite of Rashida’s – Clyde only wished that favoritism didn’t waver when it was time for his annual performance reviews. He hadn’t seen a raise in four years.
No one was sure what Rashida filled her days with, because it certainly wasn’t working. She’d once ordered Clyde to clean her office because their regular cleaning crew was off, but the weird thing was that her office appeared to have been unused – there were no folders, documents, sticky notes, or anything to indicate the work Rashida had been doing. The only things worth noting that he found were a jar of toenail clippings and a wad of cash.
The buzzing of Clyde’s phone startled him.
“Hello, I’m looking for a Mr. Shrinkle. Mr. Clyde Shrinkle.” A Southern accent asserted creamily from the other end of the phone.
“This is he. Who are you?” Clyde responded, taken aback. Not many people that Clyde interacted with had Southern accents.
Congressman Thomas was all business. “This is Congressman Daniel Paul Thomas. I received your letter, and I’m glad to hear that Marbles is doing better. I’m sorry you had to travel so far to find her help. Do you have time to chat?”
—
Dixie didn’t know what to say that evening when Clyde told her that not only had he heard back from Congressman Thomas himself, but that the Congressman wanted to introduce a bill which would create a new government agency dedicated to the oversight of veterinary medicine. More specifically, this agency would function like the current Department of Health and Human Services in that it would regulate quality standards in veterinary medicine while simultaneously ensuring better access to 24/7 veterinary clinics, especially for rural communities.
She supposed this was terrific news – but she couldn’t shake the anxiety she felt surrounding politics, and becoming involved in anything larger than the normal, quiet, everyday life she preferred for herself.
And the wedding! If Clyde barely wanted to contribute now, how would his new hobby of political activism take away from his time helping her? Dixie wasn’t sure what to say.
Instead of telling Clyde how she felt – that she was concerned about getting wrapped up in something so huge, and this close to their wedding – she simply said, “Okay.”
Chapter 3: The Agriculture Committee
Clyde paced around his hotel room, running his fingers through his hair obsessively. He flipped through his stack of cue cards again and again.
“Dude, who the hell is PeePaw?” Clyde’s coworker and best friend, Gregory Quelch, asked. Gregory had been referring to the heart tattoo on Clyde’s left bicep. It read “PeePaw” across the center in cursive lettering.
Clyde spun to face Gregory, who’d seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “I can’t talk about that right now, man. I’m freaking out. I can’t do this.”
“This whole thing was your idea!” Gregory exclaimed. “I drove out here for you because I know how much this means to you. My wife is already pissed at me for leaving her home with the kid for so long. Dixie and Rashida are waiting downstairs…” Gregory paused. “Now, you know I’ve been open with you that I don’t really support the whole centralized power thing. But if this is what you believe in, you’ve gotta go make your statement.”
Gregory was referring to the Congressional testimony Clyde was preparing to deliver that evening. Congressman Thomas had gotten the legislation in front of the United States House Committee on Agriculture – now, it was Clyde’s time to shine. Congressman Thomas had asked him to testify the importance of having some sort of governing body to ensure that all municipalities have better access to 24/7 veterinary clinics. The proposal specified that – under the new Department of Health and Veterinary Services (DHVS) – all municipalities with populations of 1000 people or more will have a fully staffed 24/7 veterinary clinic within a 60-mile radius.
“All right, man.” Clyde said.
Gregory gave Clyde a sensual kiss on the cheek and the two exited Clyde’s hotel room. They met up with Dixie and Rashida in the lobby. Dixie took Clyde’s hand the moment she saw him. It was clammy and unpleasant.
Admittedly, Dixie had been warming up to Clyde’s political activism over the past months. Seeing how much he loved Marbles – enough to put himself out into the world, despite his crippling social anxiety – made her love him more. Clyde had even agreed to begin training Marbles to “sit,” “stay,” and “deliver the rings slowly and gracefully” on command so that she could participate in their wedding.
“Let’s get this over with.” Rashida grunted. She had requested paid time off to “support” Clyde, and that was somewhat true. She wanted to support him in getting this legislation passed… or whatever… because it was distracting him from his work. A distracted worker is useless to her.
Dixie glared at Rashida. “Hon, are you ready?” She asked Clyde.
“Sure.” He responded.
Dixie gave Clyde’s hand a wet, reassuring squeeze, and the four exited the lobby toward Gregory’s brand new Dodge Challenger. No one thought to question why a father and self-proclaimed “family man” would put himself into debt over a two-door car.
—
“Dude, that killed!” Gregory exclaimed, once the four had exited the U.S. Capitol complex.
“You really think so?” Clyde responded, blushing.
Dixie interjected. “Oh my gosh, yes, you even had me tearing up. I don’t know how you weren’t bawling at that one part!”
“That was really something, Clyde. I’m happy for you.” Rashida said.
Clyde was grinning ear-to-ear. “Thanks, guys. Really.”
Chapter 4: Congressman Blem Smith & Mark Mazda-Honda
“Can you believe this shit, daddy?” said Congressman Blem Smith, as he shrugged out of his too-large suit jacket. “Mark briefed me on upcoming legislation before I left the office for the night. Some donut from Pennsylvania thinks we should have a government agency dedicated to veterinary oversight. Like anyone gives a crap. I have no idea how this didn’t die in committee.”
Congressman Smith’s father did not respond.
“I think we could leverage this in our favor, get me re-elected again. We’ll arrange a hit piece. Make it about taxes and wasting resources.” Congressman Smith continued, as he loosened his tie, kicked out of his loafers, and pulled his greasy hair from his man-bun. The residue from his unwashed hair coated his hands in a layer of oil, which he carefully wiped on his pants. “What do you say, daddy?”
Congressman Smith’s father remained silent.
“I knew we’d agree. Like father, like son!” Congressman Smith said, grinning. The remains of his lunch – a spinach salad with extra spinach, and a side of spinach – were evident in his teeth.
The Congressman knelt, tongue-kissed the Ziploc bag containing his late father’s ashes, and ambled toward his kitchen to pour himself a well-earned LaCroix before bed.
—
Congressman Smith called his ever-loyal assistant, Mark Mazda-Honda, into his office early the next morning. Usually, when the Congressman called Mark this early, it was to request Imodium or MiraLAX (sometimes both). Mark – who usually occupied a small 3’x3′ cubicle – just welcomed any opportunity to stretch his legs.
“Morning, Blem. Your usual?” Mark asked. The two were on a first-name basis now. It had only taken two years, three months, sixteen days, and 13.5 minutes of working together.
“No, no,” Congressman Smith began as he twirled at an end of his lank hair. “So, I’d been thinking… I hear you’ve got quite an audience for that podcast of yours.”
Mark shrugged. “A few thousand listeners.”
The Congressman leaned back in his chair, stroking a beard which he didn’t have. “That’s interesting. Someone ought to explain to the public why this veterinary bureaucracy deal you were telling me about yesterday is a terrible idea.”
Mark heard Congressman Smith’s message loud and clear.
—
“Dude, have you seen this?” Gregory asked, shoving his phone in Clyde’s face.
“What? No. What is that?” answered Clyde. He could barely see anything aside from Gregory’s fat fingers, one of which was missing – the result of an unfortunate lawnmowing incident some years ago. Gregory couldn’t talk about it without tearing up.
Gregory handed Clyde the phone, which was covered in greasy fingerprints. “Sorry for the scrum. My kid likes to watch Blippi on there before school. Dude’s never heard of soap. Anyway. Some podcaster made this – Mark Mazda-Honda, or whatever. It’s about your bill, man. He’s saying it’ll raise taxes.”
Clyde watched all 40 minutes of Mark Mazda-Honda’s podcast in silence. By the end, he felt like he was going to vomit. It was difficult to be angry because Mark had stated that he fundamentally agreed with Clyde – that animals should have better access to medical care – but that a government agency given power over all veterinary clinics within the US would be an abuse of power and national resources. Mark proposed something like an award of grant money to independent clinics instead.
Clyde took the remainder of the day off from work. Surprisingly, Rashida didn’t seem to mind.
Chapter 5: The House Vote
Clyde couldn’t sleep after having watched Mark Mazda-Honda’s podcast. He just couldn’t fathom how after all this work – for him, and especially Congressman Thomas – some kid with a curly undercut could tear them down. It was an insult to what they’d spent over a year building. Congressman Thomas had jeopardized his re-election for this. For Clyde, for Marbles, and for animals nationwide.
After hours of rolling around and being unable to sleep, Clyde got out of bed and cracked open his laptop. Going against his better judgement, he logged onto TikTok to see what the public response was to Mark’s podcast.
The very first clip on Clyde’s feed was a woman explaining why the arguments made by Mark had been so weak that they made her want to support Clyde’s bill. This brightened Clyde’s mood just a little, but he thought it must be a one-off.
The next clip was by a veterinary association; they had made a compilation of every time Mark had paused, or said “uhhh” or “ummm,” and the caption read “When you can’t remember the talking points your boss fed you.” Not understanding what this meant, Clyde searched the comments. Apparently, Mark was employed as a legislative aide to Congressman Blem Smith. What a stupid name.
Clyde spent the next hour searching through the hashtag #DHVS – which he learned was now trending. From what Clyde could gather, supporters of the bill had done some sleuthing in response to Mark’s podcast episode. Not only had they uncovered the details of his employment for the US House of Representatives, but they had also made Mark Mazda-Honda the face of the very issue he opposed. In attempting to make a hit piece against Clyde’s bill, Mark had made it more popular among the general public. Social media users everywhere were sharing stories similar to Clyde’s.
Unable to believe his eyes, Clyde showed Marbles a few of the posts. She didn’t have much to say, but she seemed pretty chuffed.
—
“I swear, there’s something wrong with that kid, daddy.” Congressman Smith grumbled. Like Clyde, the Congressman was finding it difficult to sleep. He was curled up under his kitchen table kneading at his late father’s ashes. “I had indirectly hinted that he should use his podcast to tear down the bill. Make me look good, you know? But he can’t even do that right. All these tree-hugger hippies want this bill to happen. They’re making me look stupid. They’ve doxxed Mark. They’ve found me. I’m not going to win the election again. I have no other life skills which would qualify me for a job anywhere else. He’s so fired, daddy!”
—
By the time Clyde’s bill finally reached the House floor, half of Congress believed it was about dogs, and the other half believed it was about cows, thanks to the widespread media coverage and misinformation following Mark Mazda-Honda’s podcast.
Mark had been fired from his position as a legislative aide to Congressman Blem Smith, as promised. He’d attempted to have the Congressman investigated for ethics violations, but nothing could be proven. The Congressman had only implied that Mark should dedicate an episode of his podcast to the DHVS bill.
Following his termination, Mark released a “tell-all” episode on his podcast. In it, he exposed Congressman Blem Smith for taking advantage of his position as Mark’s boss to push his own political agenda. He additionally exposed the gritty details of Congressman Smith’s over-the-counter medication abuse following his father’s passing. Mark even shared a personal anecdote about how the DHVS could have helped his own family’s cattle farm stay in business. Mark really was a country boy at heart.
By the end of the episode, Mark had completely backtracked everything he had said in the original hit piece.
This new episode of the podcast gained even more traction than the original, accumulating over 4 million views in just 24 hours. Mark might have lost his job as a legislative aide, but his podcast was doing better than ever.
—
The bill passed the House with bipartisan support. The only opposition was one sad, slimy Congressman. Congressman Smith resigned shortly thereafter.
—
Blem Smith was arrested for the murder of his father, US Congressman Lartholomew Shar’tavious Smith, less than a year after his resignation. A witness who had previously been unwilling to cooperate had finally given a full statement to police. The witness statement, combined with physical evidence placing Blem at his father’s estate on the evening of the murder, was enough to put Blem away for life.
Chapter 6: The Senate Vote, The Presidential Vote, & The Rest of It
The bill passed through the Senate seamlessly and the President of the United States signed it into law without fanfare. Thanks to Mark’s second podcast episode, the bill had become so popular that most politicians hadn’t even bothered to read it before voicing their full support.
Clyde, Dixie, Gregory, Rashida, Mark, and Congressman Thomas celebrated into the morning after receiving the news of it having been signed into law.
—
Rashida had completely changed her attitude towards Clyde – and everyone, really – following Clyde’s Congressional testimony. At work, Rashida had bumped up Clyde’s hourly rate to compensate for the four years he’d gone without raises and promoted him to Assistant to the Administrative Manager of Administration at Business Unlimited, Ltd.. She’d offered no explanation for this sudden change of heart, aside from valuing Clyde as an employee. She seemed to really mean it.
—
“Friends, Family, Coworkers, and Strangers, we are gathered here today to celebrate the love and commitment of Clyde Shrinkle and Dixie Ticonderoga.” Rashida announced, her eyes flooding with tears of genuine happiness.
Clyde and Dixie stood in front of Rashida, holding each other’s hands, beyond joyful that their day was finally here.
“The couple requested a brief ceremony. So let’s get right into the meat and potatoes…” Rashida continued, taking a moment to glance down at her script. “Clyde, do you take Dixie to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you love her, honor her, and cherish her, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” Clyde answered. His eyes remained locked on Dixie, who looked like she was about to explode in the best way.
Rashida turned to Dixie. “Dixie, do you take Clyde to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you love him, honor him, and cherish him, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” Dixie chirped. Her throat was exceedingly dry – a nervous trait of hers.
“Marbles!” Rashida called. “Deliver the rings slowly and gracefully!”
Marbles peeked around the corner of the backmost row of chairs. She was dressed in a little pink tutu – one Dixie had picked out. Gregory, her handler for the day, gave Marbles a soft pat on the back to send her off. Ever so delicately, Marbles strutted down the aisle with Clyde and Dixie’s rings dangling precariously from her rhinestone-bedazzled collar. When Marbles arrived at the altar, Rashida removed the bag carrying the couples’ rings, and Marbles took her spot at Clyde’s feet.
Rashida directed her attention back to Clyde. “Okay, Clyde, take this.” She gave Clyde Dixie’s ring. “Now, repeat after me. ‘Dixie, take this ring as a symbol of my love and commitment. With all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you.’”
Clyde did as he was told, and Dixie did the same when it was her turn.
“Short and sweet, guys, just like we said.” continued Rashida. “By the authority vested in me by the State of Pennsylvania, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Clyde, you may now kiss the bride!”
Clyde dipped Dixie down in an impressively long kiss, earning them some hoots and hollers from their small gathering of guests.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present to you for the very first time – Clyde and Dixie Shrinkle!” Rashida announced.
—
Among the fuss and ballyhoo of Clyde and Dixie’s wedding celebration, one voice carried over the music and squabble.
“So… did anyone actually read the bill?” Marbles asked.
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