Read Online Fag Hag (Robert Rodi Essentials) by Robert Rodi - Free Book Online

individual at the service of, and the mercy of, the state—this gun issue is just one example of that. But I also think that democracy in its purest form is mob rule, and democracy as it’s practiced today is a virtually worthless method of making cosmetic changes in a permanent government machine that is firmly entrenched in power and immune to the vagaries of the election booth—or the precepts of the Constitution, as we’ve seen repeatedly since Watergate.”
    Peter’s face had reddened. “So, what then? What kind of government?”
    “No kind of government. I’d like to live in an anarchist state, where everyone is responsible for his own backyard.”
    “Oh, yeah? What the hell would keep the country going, then?”
    “Trade.” He said it with the fervor of a priest invoking the Savior.
    “And who regulates trade?” Peter asked. By now the Romanos and Emily were looking on, a little alarmed by how heated the exchange had gotten.
    “Trade regulates itself. Or rather, we, as consumers, would regulate trade based on what we buy. Ideally, an educated and informed public would consume only quality goods and services, and trade would prosper because of that. I guess what I’m really talking about is a consumer-determined meritocracy.”
    At this point Sandy appeared at the table and tapped Natalie on the shoulder. “Honey, I’d like to have my picture taken with you and Calvin, what with you both looking so nice for a change. Shouldn’t take a moment.”
    Natalie excused herself and rose from her seat; Peter was so involved in his discussion with Lloyd that he barely noticed her go.
    The photo session turned out to be a trap. After one picture with her children, Sandy told the photographer, “Right, now one of me with just the bride and groom. Natalie, go stand over there by Hank.”
    Hank Bixby was off to one side, waiting like a puppy dog for Sandy. Natalie sighed in defeat, approached him, and said, “Hello again, Hank.”
    “Long time, no see,” he said, and he actually laughed at this lamest of jests. Natalie couldn’t believe her ears.
    “Perhaps you’d care to dance,” he said a moment later, and for the first time she noticed that the dance floor had been cleared and a band of what looked like Rastafarians had set up their instruments and were preparing to play.
    “Oh—well—thank you, Hank. Yes. Sure. Lovely.” She peered over her shoulder at Peter, who was now leaning across the table, speaking with great intensity to Lloyd Hood. She decided it was safe to leave him unattended.
    “Natalie, Hank,” called Sandy, “you two come and join us now.” Natalie felt like throttling her. By the time the shot had been taken, the band had started up. Calvin and Vera were summoned to open the dancing with a quick whirl through “their song,” Barbra Streisand’s treacly ditty about evergreens, which Natalie strongly suspected was solely Vera’s choice. Then the band kicked in with an old Four Tops tune, and Hank dragged Natalie onto the dance floor.
    The Four Tops segued into a Jackson 5 hit, and Hank, a truly terrible dancer, flapped his arms and twirled about, and showed no sign of tiring. Natalie felt the seams of her dress begin to strain and feared they might burst.
    The band then plunged into an old Temptations number, and Natalie thought, This will never end. Hank was leaping about like an acrobat; it was mortifying.
    Suddenly Peter appeared and tapped Hank on the shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?” Hank, sweaty and bewildered, had no choice but to bow out. He left the dance floor mopping his brow with a handkerchief.
    Peter took Natalie into his arms and gave her a spin. She shrieked with delight.
    “Finally ditched the right-wing reactionary pig?” she asked.
    “Who, Lloyd?” he said as she bumped his hips against hers in time to the music. “Interesting guy.”
    “Oh, Christ, Peter! He’s a Nazi!”
    He laughed, grabbing her by the waist for another twirl. “That’s a bit