Once Upon a Time in Ellay

Once upon a time in the mythical village of Ellay there lived a man named Joe who was not running for mayor.

This was unusual because everyone else was, including 30,000 women and 15,000 men.

That roughly consisted of 18,000 Hispanics, 12,000 Asians, 7,000 blacks, 5,000 whites and 3,000 Others.

Among them were a smattering of feminists, cowboys, poets, actors, hookers, housewives, television journalists and an unfrocked Marine.

It was a wide-open race because no one was very bright or interesting and therefore no one was favored.

The campaign was the high point of a tradition that began in 1993 when a record 52 people declared their candidacies for the office.

Every year since then the number had doubled until this year, when it was supposed to include every qualified adult in the village.

That was cause for celebration and everyone was looking forward to it.

When the deadline for filing had come and gone, the village clerk went down the list of participants and discovered that it did indeed include the entire population.

Except for one.

When the clerk announced that their dream of full participation had not been achieved, a great moaning went up.

Who, they wanted to know, was the one person depriving them of their fulfillment?

The village clerk shook her head. “It’s Joe,” she said.

Fame is thrust upon those who stand out, and because he did not want to stand out, Joe stood out.

Members of the media, all of whom were declared candidates, rushed to his home on the edge of town, where Joe lived with his wife, a Born Again Feminist.

Joe had lived in the village all of his life and was known as a peculiar sort because he was content to be what he was, never seeking wealth or power, never complaining and never picking fights with his neighbors.

Everyone knew him because he was the village plumber and had, at one time or another, stopped their leaks or repaired their broken pipes.

Crowds followed the media to Joe’s place when it was learned he was the only person in Ellay not running for mayor.

They gathered around his modest home to such an extent that the village constable, who was running as a Recovering Other, was called to keep the peace.

Joe’s wife appeared at the doorway when she heard the shouts of the multitudes and said her husband was not interested in talking to anyone unless their faucet was dripping or their toilet was stopped up.

“We want to know why he isn’t running for mayor,” said a reporter who was running on the Pro-Sexual Harassment Ticket.

Mrs. Joe went back inside the house and returned in a few moments. “He says he doesn’t want to be mayor,” she said. “He says go away.”

The crowd wasn’t satisfied. A chant went up, Joe, Joe, Joe, Joe . . . It rattled windows and bent trees and sent small animals scurrying for cover.

And it finally brought Joe to the door.

He spoke in a very calm and deliberate manner, as though he were discussing a customer’s overflow valve.

“This is a village in chaos,” he said. “It is corrupt, inept, shortsighted and uncaring. And that’s just within the Village Council.”

“So what,” a woman in the crowd (a Gender Separationist) shouted. “Every village has its traditions!”

That was true. But outside the Village Council it was worse. Council members, at least, did not kill each other.

Murder had increased threefold in Ellay since the old, easy days. And as if crime were not enough, poverty had risen sharply too.

“There is fear and stupidity everywhere,” Joe said.

“What’s that got to do with not running?” an anti-Other demanded.

Joe replied very quietly so that you had to lean forward to hear, “I might win. And who wants to be mayor of all that?”

A hush fell over the crowd. No one had thought of it before. Sure, someone always won, but it was usually a person who wasn’t all that bothered by chaos.

The crowd members dispersed in silence, and one by one withdrew from the race. By election day, there was only one candidate left, a mentally retarded stable hand who won by default.

Everyone wanted to write in the name of the one man wise enough not to want to be mayor, but Joe said even if he won, he wouldn’t serve.

So Ellay, in that strange and remarkable year, ended up with the kind of mayor it always had, but at least nothing had changed. The people went on living with crime and poverty and stupidity as usual.

And Joe went on unclogging sinks and unplugging toilets and lived happily ever after. The End.