Stu The Wise for President

I recently met a man by the name of Dergrosse Abbildungsmann who, I later learned, was a great German photographer. How did I know he was great? Well, another man I once met by the name of Vince told me, “You know the Germans make good stuff!”

Thus, I asked Heir Abbildungsmann to take my presidential portrait, which can now be seen on my Facebook and YouTube pages. I was so moved by the emotion which was so artistically captured in his expert work that I asked Heir Abbildungsmann to put into writing the process that went into taking this moving photo.

Ladies, gentlemen, and not-so-gentle men, I give you Dergrosse Abbildungsmann.

Dergrosse Abbildungsmann

I met Stu The Wise — or, as he prefers me to call him, The Next President of the United States, Stu The Wise — at a local mall. He was in my camera shop harassing customers, offering positions on his cabinet in exchange for professional photos of himself.

He was scaring off my customers, and so I asked him to please leave. At this point, he became enraged, screaming, “Do you know who I am?” and other such nonsense. I just wanted him out, and so I asked him what it was he wanted. After telling me he needed a professional photographer to take his “presidential portrait,” I agreed just to be rid of him. I didn’t care that the man seemed mentally unstable, believing so assuredly that he would win the presidency that he was already having his presidential portrait taken.

He insisted that the picture be taken in his shower because he was “cleaning up” in preparation to do the same to Washington. I had no idea what he was ranting about, so I just nodded my head and said, “Let’s get this over with.”

As we entered his bathroom, he began to strip naked. I asked him, “What are you doing?!”

He responded, “Getting ready for my presidential portrait of course!”

I nearly ran, but then thought to myself, Just do it and get out!

Once Stu The Wise was fully undressed, he stepped into the shower. I looked up and nearly fainted as the blood rushed from my head, visions of farmer tans dancing through my mind. I convinced him to wear a towel so as to provide the impression that he had just completed his shower and was now drying off, ready to storm Washington with his greatness.

“You think that will work?” Stu The Wise asked. I forced a smile and gave him a thumbs up, trying hard to look anywhere but where the sun obviously had never shined on his blindingly pale body.

As I prepared my equipment, I glanced up to see what seemed to be an oddly regal pose, Stu The Wise’s hand to his chin as if in deep thought. I quickly snapped a photo before realizing that he was watching himself urinate into the tub he was standing in. And with that, I handed him the memory card and ran out as fast as I could. Stu The Wise chased after me in his nakedness, screaming, “Would you like to be my Photography Czar?”

As I hurried to my car parked outside, Stu The Wise was still yelling from his porch. I felt sorry for his neighbors. Just then a police car came by. I waved down the officer and directed his sight to the crazed nude man on the porch. Strangely, as if he knew what might be and not wanting the vision to corrupt his mind, the officer floored the accelerator of his squad car, leaving behind nothing but the smell of burnt rubber as he fishtailed around a corner and out of sight.

I could only fathom what few sights could ever possibly cause a veteran police officer to react in such a way. Believing the officer may know something that I did not, I hurriedly jump into my own car and removed myself as quickly as I could, hoping to never cross paths with this Stu The Wise maniac again.

The gods, however, did not favor me, as two days hence I had the catastrophic misfortune of crossing his path yet again. With my life threatened, Stu The Wise forced me to pen this very story you now read.

I now plan to immediately pack up and leave to an unnamed foreign country in the hopes that I will never see Stu The Wise again and, that in the incredible off chance that he should become President, I will be safe from his tyranny. I, however, fear that I shall never be healed of the psychological scarring I now endure.

Good luck to all those who choose to stay in what was once a great country.