The Terribles include 3 novels published since 1982, and gumbos two genres: The Christmas novel and The Washington novel. In The Terrible Twos, Dean Clift, a former model, ascends to the presidency after the death of his predecessor. Manipulated by the rich, he starts on the right but changes his politics after the First Lady's death and a visit from Saint Nicholas during “a dark night of the soul.” His enemies invoke the 25th amendment, which removes Clift from office after he makes a bizarre television appearance where he describes the visit and recites the Bill of Rights, which for his enemies is a communist doctrine. After his ouster, Jesse Hatch ascends to the presidency, but the power behind the throne is Rev. Clement-Jones, the most powerful man in the government because he knows Jesse Hatch’s secret and is blackmailing Hatch. Clement’s only threat is the head of the Sons of Odin, a white nationalist group that worships Norse Gods. Their candidate is Termite Control, a necrophiliac, who has suffered from Cotard’s syndrome since childhood. The Sons of Odin’s only reason for running for political office is to raise money for the group by selling Termite Control spray cans signed by Termite, his nickname taken from General Westmoreland’s description of the Vietnamese as “termites,” for $1000 each, but a scandal hits the Hatch administration and Termite’s numbers rise in the polls. He becomes a serious candidate, which requires a change in his image.
Termite Control was introduced in The Terrible Threes, which was published in 1989. The D’Roaches, a derisive term given to Termite Control’s party, was gaining in the polls, but all of the pundits agreed that this party, which was on the ballot in twelve states, didn’t have a chance. The American people weren’t that stupid to elect a white nationalist necrophiliac for president, or were they?
The following is a chapter from The Terrible Fives to be published next year by Baraka Books in Montreal.
Chapter 21
Termite Control was being interviewed, but instead of wearing the attire of a Viking Warrior, a horned helmet, and bear skins, he was wearing a suit. The moderator was introducing him.
“In one of the most astonishing developments in American history, the Jesse Hatch administration ended in scandal when the president exposed his chief of staff, Rev. Clement Jones, as a murderer. The revelation came when Hatch confessed that he was born with interchangeable genitalia, a triple hermaphrodite, and that Clement had been blackmailing him. This has led to an opening for Termite Control and candidates of the Odin party: men and women who worship the Norse god Odin.”
Nobody had given them a chance, but now they have a clear path to win the election, as a result of Rev. Jones being on the run and President Hatch negotiating a plea deal with the Attorney General. No longer were their critics dismissing Termite’s followers as D’Roaches. Nothing funny anymore.
The Speaker of the House, a thirty-year-old Blackfoot Indian from South Dakota, has become president. Initially, there was panic, but it decreased after he assured them he would not run for president. There are only a few months before election day. Termite’s only opposition in the election would be Kingsly Scabb, the former Vice President, and the father of a white hip-hop star, Ice Cream, whose murder of a Black intruder who knocked on his door in a stand-your-ground incident brought him fame and millions of donations.
(Actually, he murdered his son, Ice Cream, who thought it would be fun to show up to an awards ceremony in Blackface but couldn’t remove it. Now, he was being pursued by police for murdering himself. At large, he thought he’d be safe at his parent’s home, but because of his Blackface, his Dad mistook him for a home invader and shot him through the door.)
The moderator looked into the camera and heralded Termite Control as a breath of fresh air. The moderator of the daytime show introduced Termite. As he walked onto the set from the green room, where he’d been reading Mein Kampf, he was met by screams and feet stomping from the women in the audience. The interviewer noticed he was wearing a conventional suit. His scraggly beard was gone.
Interviewer: You’re wearing a suit.
Termite Control: Yes, we’ve decided to go mainstream. Our poll numbers have increased since President Hatch turned the tables on Rev. Jones.
Int: We see that. You’ve ordered that your followers put away their horned helmets, bear skin attire, battle axes, and beards. You’ve demanded that bonfires and pagan celebrations of the Winter Solstice end?
TC: That way we can broaden our appeal. All of them are required to dress like me. Black suits, white shirts and black ties.
Int: So much has changed. Vice President Hatch exposed Rev. Clement as a murderer of Admiral Matthews (who was about to reveal an operation, code name Two Birds, a plot to bomb New York and blame the attack on Nigeria). Clement is a man who put out a contract on his mother because of a dispute over who would inherit his late father’s Evangelical empire. But are you sure that the American public is ready to elect a man who—
TC: Sleeps with dead women?
Int: Necrophilia.
TC: Necrophilia is sweeping Europe. The youth branch of the Swedish Liberal People’s Party is advocating that Necrophilia be legalized. They argue that people should get to decide what happens to their bodies after they die, and not the Deep State. No one objects to someone who wants to bequeath their body to science, and what’s wrong with someone donating their body for another person’s pleasure? Isn’t it bad enough that the Deep State determines what you should do with your body when you’re alive, but then they have control over what you do with your body after death?
Int: But most people find such practices that you advocate disgusting.
TC: We operate on a 3-day rule.
Int: Meaning?
TC. No sex with a dear departed one after three days following their deaths.
Int. Tell us about the rally.
TC. Our next campaign rally will be launched next week. Thousands of Necrophiliacs are expected to attend.
INT: Thank you, Termite Control.
The moderator shook his hand. Termite exited the stage to thunderous applause. Some audience members wore caps and T-shirts with printed pictures of Termite’s autographed spray can.
During the panel discussion after the interview, instead of condemning a situation where a Necrophiliac could become president of the United States, liberal columnists for The New York Exegesis, who file their copy from dinner parties, made excuses for the followers of Termite Control who threatened to close the borders, expel American-born citizens no matter how many generations their ancestors dwelled here, and occupy Black neighborhoods with the army. He’d promised that those among his followers who’d been agitating that Hitler’s birthday be recognized and MLK’s be dropped because of the notorious hotel tape would get their wish. He said that under his administration, all of the Confederate statues taken down would be put back up.
Another famous dinner party columnist chimed in. “For years, people had dismissed the Amerikaner party as a place where members of the Odin cult, men who gained pounds while living in the gazebos of their parents' homes, staring at iPhones and thumbing through social media all day while subsisting on Slurpies. Not anymore. They’re being taken seriously now. They’ve cleaned up now that they’ve entered the mainstream. I welcome this new image. Termite Control gives hope to those who have lost hope.”
Following the interview, panelists discussed what Termite had said. The question was why a man who admits to sleeping with dead women was gaining in the polls and, now that the Clement/Hatch administration had collapsed, had a clear path to the presidency.
A plump Black woman with big cheeks led the discussion. “I think the country is at a tipping point. A man who sleeps with dead people might become president.”
A panelist answered the question. “But he has moderated his views, don’t you think? He says that he and his followers have a three-day rule. No sleeping with the dead after three days of their death. And he makes a point. Some people sign their cadavers over to medical research. What’s wrong with someone signing their cadaver to be used for pleasure?”
Another panelist said: “And he’s gotten rid of the horns and the bear coat. He’s promised to get rid of that robot that goes around beating up people and the ghost of the SS soldier Heinrich, the one who stored on Reagan’s Air Force One on his return from laying a wreath at the grave of the Nazi dead at Bitburg.”
Five year old Chelsea Clinton wrote, “Dear Mr. President, I have seen the Sound of Music. The Nazi don’t look very nice people. Please don’t go to their cemetery.”
One columnist blamed the rise of Termite on what he called the Brahman Left, who were always protesting whatever. College students who make up the democratic party. This only alienates the Reagan coalition of the 1980’s, whose resentments and grievances have been ignored. They’re also losing among Black Latino, and Asian American working class voters. He said that Termite Control is the perfect vehicle for their grievances. The columnists' argument held that the elites of which they were members were responsible for the popularity of Termite Control, who promised to spray can their enemies.
Another columnist who had a bug up his ass about Black people blamed Termite’s ascendency on the culture of white Americans being replaced, which was a dog whistle about Hip Hop. The moderator asked if any fiction writer could make up what had happened in the last week. The coming out of President Jesse Hatch. The search for Rev. Jones wanted for murder.
Another panelist chimed in. Now that Rev. Clement-Jones was exposed as a corrupt criminal who enticed his followers into believing that the Rapture had begun because one of his advisors, Bob Krantz, had ascended, something made up as more evidence was coming forth.
In a briefing, Termite’s spokesperson, Vixen, said the ascension was staged for Clement to hold on to power.
Another Yale-educated panelist blamed the support for Termite on the unraveling of American morality that occurred during the 1960s.
Termite and his campaign workers were watching from his headquarters. They were giving one another the hi-five over the sane washing of his campaign by East Coast, whose world was about forty blocks of Manhattan. His chief aides, Gut Bomb and Meso Thelioma, were knocking down some strong whiskey.
Now the front runner for the presidency, Termite leaned back in his chair with his hands supporting his head. Nobody thought he had a chance, and he was now the front runner. The perks. A billionaire with ties to Silicon Valley had lent him a plane as big as Air Force One. He was being courted by lobbyists, and the most important, in his eyes, were the lobbyists for morticians.
According to Business Insider, their industry was suffering from “Rising costs, declining demand, and government scrutiny.” More people were choosing cremation. “Their historic business of preserving a body, displaying it and then overseeing its burial is collapsing.” The morticians had instructed Termite that, as far as they were concerned, all D.C. mortuaries were open houses for Termite, no matter how late they were at night. In return, he’d have to promise to end cremation.
2025