The Fight for Life

At six feet nine inches tall, Monroe Culver dwarfed his opponent. This was the third and final debate before the general election. His black skin glistened under the lights and he showed no signs of sweating. His opponent was an anchor baby from Venezuela. Marcos Sandoval’s five foot eight frame remained slight against Culver. But he had spirit.

“This election isn’t about me. It isn’t about my family, friends, and those with whom I work. It is about the American people. It is about the way we live in this country and who we live for in Heaven. Now, my opponent claims to be an atheist. I believe in God totally. I am steadfast in my faith. The only way forward from the Godlessness is to not re-elect Mr. Culver to another term. I yield my time.”

The news anchor who moderated the debate shook her head to get hair from her eyes.

“Mr. President…your words….”

“Thanks, Carissa. I thank you all. Especially my opponent. In this country, we have rights. His parents fled from a place bereft of the basic individual rights that constitute a proper way of human existence. He’s right. I have no faith in the superstitious. I don’t believe in angels and demons or heaven or hell. I know they’re here on this Earth as metaphors and nothing else. I have weathered four years and not had one, not one, instance where I had to use my atheist stance for anything. It just is. When I’m re-elected president, I will make sure that believers and nonbelievers can continue to unify despite their differences. I know this to be true. Thank you, again.”

Sandoval cleared his throat.

“Senator Sandoval, what will you do about inner city violence?”

“Pray.”

“Mr. President?”

“Fight.”

“Thank you both for this debate.”