Ecocondriacs

The Dying Candidate

Brock Hilton stared at his personal physician bailfully.

He trusted his doctor's medical expertise completely,

but did not trust the life coach lessons that Timothy

Ziziziziziziziziziziziziz was the one who had about six months earlier delivered

the news to him about his congenital heart disease and how serious it really was.

He was also the same doctor whose complete silence had been purchased for quite a handsome fee.

When it came to raw physical stamina, Tilton was something of a draft horse, and that is why

deception on the point was even a possibility.

He didn't look like he was going to keel over any minute.

But Zizusius assured him that was coming up pretty soon.

Fitness is not the same thing as health, the doctor had just said. You can just be

stubborn for a little bit and maybe a little bit more, but that's it. The thing that it made this interesting on a broader scale was

that Tilton was the Democratic nominee for the presidency, and on some days his race against

Mike Pence looked like it was neck and neck, and other days it looked as though he had a better

than even chance. Other days Pence was ahead. This was according to their internal

polls as opposed to the public jokes that were good for nothing other than trying

to manipulate the public.

Anybody who believe the polls offered up for public consumption was as big a joke as the

polls were.

Anything could happen as Tilton well knew, and so he was resolved that one of the things that was not going to happen

...