Amidst the scattered chants of "Caesar, Caesar" and the mumbled murmurs of "what's all that dadburn racket at this unholy hour?", the Lamont mayor rode triumphantly thru the heart of town after returning a conquering hero from the blood-strewn battlefield over by the railroad tracks where an enemy older than the town itself lay gasping in defeat, late Friday. As was the custom in ancient Rome, when a commander returned after subduing a particularly nasty foe, oftentimes the citizens would rise up in gratitude and thanksgiving and bestow their highest honor on the brave warrior who saved them from the clutches of a bloodthirsty nemesis. Such was the case after news swept the town of the outrageous success of the mosquito spraying that was done under the watchful eye of the Mayor - ah, I mean Caesar - as the mosquitoes were routed and sent back to the stinking swamps that spawned them (although John Sypher did all the actual work and Kynda Browning from Tekoa was the brains behind the operation)."Dang, is that another parade? Haven't we had enough parades this year? What are we celebrating this time? What, is the Mayor's bald spot growing at a less alarming rate than previously observed??" said a local farm wife who needs to be fed to the lions or banished to the salt mines or something. "And what is the Mayor doing on that contraption, anyway? That just looks stupid!!" she said while clutching her tattered bathrobe tightly to her throat. "I moved to Lamont for the peace and quiet - I had no idea this place was going to turn into the parade capitol of the doggone world. I need my beauty sleep, dang it!" she said with outrageous levels of understatement, drawing enthusiastic nods of approval from all those within earshot.
"Hey, that picture ain't of our Mayor. That guy in the picture looks all regal and warlike and our mayor is the spitting image of Danny DeVito - only not so handsome" said a town retiree taking time out from his garden where he pretends to be out of earshot from his wife's incessant nagging. "Heck, our mayor could barely see over the edge of that thing, which would appropriately put him right at eye level with the business end of them horses!" he chuckled. "Heck, I'd gladly elect him Caesar just to see that. I am not sure I could tell the difference between the two!" he mused before being cast into irons to spend the rest of his days chained to an oar on an imperial war galley. "And ain't it just like him to go celebrating himself when other people did all the work? I could see them Tekoa people getting a fancy parade or whatever the heck this is supposed to be - but not that glory grabber!" he said while turning his bad ear towards his house where his wife was hollering at him to take out the trash before having him rub lotion on her corns. "Quick, act like we are in the middle of an important and interesting conversation!!" pleaded the desperate man. "I just can't go in there to rub lotion on her feet no more. A man has to have some dignity, for Pete's sake!" he said despairingly. "Wow, this here parade is pretty interesting after all. We should make the Mayor a Caesar every day - at least until them corns go away " he said hopefully.
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