I did not know why I was there, I didn’t like him, I certainly hadn’t voted for him. I did not know what Hychukka was. Why should I be interested?
I knew why I was there, I wanted to visit the famous house, I wanted to see him in the flesh even though I hated his guts, I wanted to see him light all the candles on the Hychukka tree on the first day of the Hychukka religious holiday. I searched for the word Hychukka on the internet, no Dick and Harry for me.
Everyone was dressed up, music played, the TV cameras were there, he entered the room and he greeted everybody. A uniformed footman gave him a lighted taper, he walked over to the tree and stretched out his arm to light the first candle.
A sheet of flame hid his bright orange countenance, he fell into the tree and the decorative glass balls exploded.
The footmen hastily opened all the doors opening onto the garden and the guests quickly exited out onto the lawn.
I was questioned for hours, it was not pleasant. Why did I mix hydrangea into the president’s orange pancake make-up? Why did I fill the glass balls on the tree with hydrangea? They knew that I was the culprit, I must have been, I had a book about hydrangea in my pocket.
I had always wanted to grow hydrangeas, but what had that got to do with the president?
The flames had burnt through his face and his hair and his head. His head had turned black. All his fans and supporters hated him now, he was all black and they were all racists through and through, that is true.
I woke and found Friday wrapped all around me. “That was a hard one!” I bet she knows the difference between hydrangea and hydrazine.