Before it can completely stop, Jeb Bush jumps out of his Suburban.
His convoy screeches to a halt and his aides remain seated, pale with alarm.
For America, they do not panic but chant instead:
“Sir please be careful! Sir please be careful! Sir please be careful!”
The ceremony continues until Jeb is done chasing all the air he can and finds his step. Chants of millennial hope can work like magic.
Unfazed, Jeb mumbles, “America needs a real risk taker.”
This was just loud enough so he can hear himself talk to his collarbone.
Nobody running for president has ever spoken so softly after escaping death so miraculously. Like vultures, reporters encircle him.
“Sir what if you had hurt yourself? Would you have suspended your campaign?”
“Isn’t it time to call it quits? Can you keep raising money?”
“If you quit the race, will you endorse Trump?”
Jeb would have his face hit the asphalt, split his ankles, and die with his foot in his mouth before endorsing Trump. He waves his hand like he is on cue, gathers his breath, places his hands firmly on his hips so he can’t jump anymore.
Careful so his nose doesn’t poke into any microphone, Jeb leans into a camera and declares to the American people:
“ I can’t help myself if I have so much Energy! I am always ready to serve, and to fight for this country, and gosh if I seem a little too eager to do my job, forgive me. God bless America, Really! ”
Jeb tells the truth, a lot of it. When he misses working out at the gym, and can’t bench press to episodes of Supergirl, he drinks seven cups of Cinderella Lattes. Each one is 28 ounces of steamed milk, seventeen teaspoons of cane sugar and one tiny unroasted, uncrushed espresso bean. Even when he is on the road, Jeb waits for the espresso bean to hit rock bottom in his cup, before gulping it all in one long shot. Sometimes when the warm milk floods his nostrils, Jeb gets jittery and plays with car locks and door handles because he can’t help himself.
Jeb clears away from the reporters and speeds towards a wheelchair bound octogenarian. His aides struggle to keep up.
Jeb can be very persuasive as he struggles to establish eye contact.
“Ma’am can I ask you who you’re gonna vote for?”
“ I haven’t decided yet.”
Jeb wants to hug this disabled grandmother.
“Would you vote for me? Please?”
“Would you change your mind if I gave you a kiss?”
Jeb Bush does not chase the wheelchair as it throttles away in full speed.
An angry crowd quickly yells: “Stop trying to kiss us Jeb!”
It’s a field day for reporters.
“Jeb don’t you think kissing for votes is too aggressive?”
Jeb smiles and calmly refutes the liberal media.
“No, Not at all and I can give you two reasons why. Ready? Okay here we go! Number one, my warm kisses are harmless and I can blow them out of my Hispanic mouth without fear, because they are not the kissey kissey kind that Trump and Cruz keep scaring you with. Number two, these kisses are soft because I am no blowhard. Ask my brother, he’ll tell you.”
It’s time for another Cinderella Latte.