#Trumpkara

[trumpkara]

Chapter Twelve: It's a hard cock life

"Harv Finevoice? Yeah I seen him. Surprised to hear he was crowing down here in beantown but he's been headlining in the Fat Pussy Club down Sixth every night this week. Sounds like he could use some practice though, heh."

90s Kid didn't respond, just nodded, slipping the bum the requested hit of GONZO. Finally... it had taken months but he finally had a real lead.

A pink convertible stuffed with models skidded past 90s Kid, all of them wooping and cheering for his attention. He shot them a quick hang loose and motioned with his head to send them on their way. There wasn't the time... the real work had finally begun.

[trumpkara]

Jacob's Ladder Arc Chapter Eleven: You can't go home, but you also can't go to Chicago

90s Kid awoke with a start. These motel beds were murder on his back, fortunately the pile of bodacious babes he found himself on was much more comfortable.

"Come back to bed, Chollo" one of them mumbled into the pillow as he heaved his considerable size off the mattress.

"Sorry babe-o-rama, Daddy's got work to do." 90's kid shot her a hang loose sign and then gargled with Pepsi MAX. The answering machine beeped and played the message that had been left for him at 4 AM.

"90S KID, WHEN I PUT YOU IN CHARGE OF FINDING HARVEY, I DID SO ASSUMING YOU'D ACTUALLY GET IT DONE EVENTUALLY"

He spat out the Pepsi MAX in the sink and rubbed his eyes, there was no mistaking Linkara's voice.

"DO YOU THINK THE SOLUTION WE CAME UP WITH WAS A PERMENANT ONE, HMMM? DO YOU THINK I CAN CONTINUE TO WIN HEARTS AND MINDS ACROSS AMERICA LIKE THIS? I HAVE TO ASSUME YOU DON'T, BUT MAYBE YOU DO."

It had been 4 months since Harvey had disappeared. Linkara was light on the details, but they had gotten the gist. Finevoice was a certified GONZOhead, a MIA one at that. They had been making do with a cardboard cut out of Frank Sinatra to keep up appearances, but without their head of marketing (not to say anything of Harvey's smart brains and fine voice) the campaign was floundering.

"LISTEN. I NEED HIM HERE. I NEED YOU HERE TOO. BUT UNFORTUNATELY I DON'T SEEM TO BE GETTING WHAT I WANT THESE DAYS. YOU'RE BACK IN CHICAGO BECAUSE HARV WAS SEEN BODDING AROUND THE GUTTERS. MAKE THAT RUMOUR TRUE. FIND HIM. LINKARA OUT."

The stress of the campaign was getting to Linkara, even Alison Pregger was beginning to notice. He was irritable, quick to anger, and was constantly nitpicking everything. Then again, maybe he was just being Linkara. Still, they needed Harvey if they were going to win, there was no doubt about that.

90s Kid waddled to the motel window, careful not to step on any girls, and marvelled at the skyline.

Beantown. 90s Kid never liked Beantown. Whole place felt too... modern. No place for a kid from the 90s, nor a lounge singer, nor a 2000s internet reviewer. This wasn't home. He draped his favourite TMNT Secret of the Ooze shirt over his podge. It was time to work.

[trumpkara]

Chapter Ten: The Great Plans of Reviewers and Men

The curtain rises on a melancholy October eve. The crooks have long gone home with their winnings and even the GONZOheads and drifted into slumber. Yet two souls remain awake in the dark of the night.

One of them is our Linkara.

"W-who's there?" He yelled into the abyss, the only response a mocking echo of his question.

"I'm not afraid you know!" he yelled, louder this time. "You've broken into the room of the future president of the United USA, you're in SO much trouble!"

"My Liege..."

The voice was soft like a whisper, but each word vibrated the room with its deep vibrato.

"My Liege..."

Two red orbs faded in the darkness, illuminating Linkara's face in a hellish glow.

"You have done well so far, but the path you walk has many hurdles ready and waiting. Steel your soul, harden your heart, and you may make it to the promised day."

Linkara twisted a finger in his ear and it made a loud squeaking noise. "Buddy, speak up! You're making about as much sense as Rob Seinfeld right now!"

The red orbs began to fade back away.

"Lavello. Lavello. Icaro volava con ali intrise di sangue, mio ​​signore..."

And then they were gone completely, and in their place stood the intruder. A silhouette he recognized all too well... Harvey Finevoice. His eyes wild and his demeanor frantic.

"Harv?" Linkara said, calling him that for the first time in his life. "What are you doing here? Your room is across the road in the Motel 6."

Harvey stumbled into the room, his movements erratic. "I need to talk to you, Linkara," he said, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. "Why won’t you sleep with me? Is it... is it because I'm a man? That's it right?"

Linkara was taken aback by the sudden outburst. He had never seen Harvey like this. "Harvey, it's not about that. You know Linkara likes the girls AND the fellas. I would take you for a spin, but I'm sorry... there's someone else I love. I love her all too deeply. You know that's why my marriage fell apart."

Harvey grunted something unintelligible and spat on the carpet.

Linkara's mind drifted, even in this situation he couldn't help it when he thought of her. "She has.... Oh Harv, her hands are white and soft like ivory... and her eyes? The deepest green I've ever seen."

Harvey’s face twisted with rage and hurt. "You're lying! You're just making excuses! Every chica on this blue marble wants this body, so WHY DON'T YOU?"

Linkara got out of bed and into his fluffy slippers and yellow ranger bathrobe; his concern growing as he took in Harvey’s dilated pupils and jittery movements, and taces of green goo bubbleing in his mouth. "Harvey, have you been GONZOING?"

Harvey’s eyes flashed with defiance. "So what? So what if I have? I’ve always used them to help me sing. The stress of you rejecting me just made me double the dose."

"Are you KIDDING me Harv? You're a GONZOhead? You think you coulda told me that BEFORE you joined my campaign? This is gonna be a scandal!"

Harvey shook his head violently, stumbling backward. "I don’t need help! I need you, Linkara. You’ll see. You’ll be mine."

With that, Harvey turned and like a weeble wobble stumbled out of the room but didn't fall down, leaving Linkara standing there, stunned and deeply troubled and wondering when he had actually offered to help.

"Ah well, a problem for Morning Linkara!" He screamed and flopped back into bed. As he finally drifted off to sweet lady slumber. In it his worries seemed far away. He sat on a throne made of roses, finally President of the United USA. In front of him there were a seas of loyal followers. All wearing his iconic hat, and none of whom would take GONZO or pursue him homosexually. He was... so happy.

Then someone screamed.

It was distant at first, one of the fedora fighters. Then another screamed, closer this time.

Then another. Then many, many more.

One by one they burst into flames, and writhed and crackled before his feet.

"Oh my Goddess, what is happening??" Linkara yelled, jumping to his feet as his crown fell too his ten little piggies. The flames grew upon each other until all his could see was fire and death. He tried to back away from the heat, but he fell into his throne once again. It took a second to register the stabbing pain he now felt, but it hit him like a wave. The roses had all grown thornes and now tied him to his seat.

"Why is this happening?? Why??" He yelled to the skies, now black with smoke.

A single charred skeleton approached him from the crowd. He wore cracked shades where his eyes onces were and an NSYNC cap tilted boyishly to the left.

"90s Kid?" He asked, hoping to be wrong.

"Dude, why are you crying? This is what you wanted!"

The flames enclosed Linkara, lapping at his feet. As they engulfed him, what remained of 90s Kid crumbled to ash.

"Ooof!"

He woke with a start, his heart pounding and his body drenched in sweat and sheets damped with haha well you know what. The nightmare had felt so real, the weight of it pressing down on him like a physical force. What could it all mean? What he wanted? In any case, he couldnt waste time writing it into his dream journal. He had to confront Harvey and address his issues head-on, not just for the sake of the campaign, but for the sake of their friendship?

At the breakest brunch bar, Linkara gathered unburnt 90s Kid and Allison Preggers and told them what had happened. No one had seen Harvey since last night and his GONZOing was a dark surprise.

"We need to find Harvey and get him help," 90s Kid said, his voice firm. "This is bigger than the campaign. It's about saving a friend."

Linkara shook his head, his resolve hardening. "You're wrong. We can't let him spiral out of control BECAUSE of the campaign. There is NOTHING bigger than that right now"

90s kid threw up on his shirt a little.

"Whatever you say, I guess you're the boss."

"That's right, I am. Now find him and sober him up.... we have work to do."

As they moved forward, Linkara grabbed a handful of dry corn flakes and munched on them. Corn flakes always made him feel better when a good friend went on a drug bender after being rejected romantically by him. Still, he couldn't help but feel something else should be on his mind as well. Something else he should be worried about, but he had forgotten to be. HMMMMMM. From another place, unseeable by mortal eyes, two red pupils observed Linkara going to town on more corn flakes.

Soon.

Soon it would all begin.

---

ON THE ROAD ARC: COMPLETE NEXT: JACOB'S LADDER ARC

[trumpkara]

Chapter Nine: The Calm Before the Storm

Linkara stared into his Tango Ice Blast, which had melted a little bit and let him see his reflection in a tiny puddle of Outrageous Orange. He knew running for President of the United USA would be tough, but he never dreamed it would be this hard three days after announcing his candidacy.

90s Kid and Harvey Finevoice had arranged a party to blow off some steam and restore the team's calm. They had booked out Linkara's favourite restaurant Applebee's, and had a cover band playing a medley of his favourite Pokemon and MLP songs. Any other day Linkara would be vibing his little socks off, having the time of his life. But a Trump shaped cloud hung over the reviewer's head, and memories of the past few days clanked in his skull.

"I mean, I'm not crazy right? I am better than that Orange joke, right?" He yelled at 90s Kid "I support LGBT rights, I made History of Power Rangers... what more do these FUCKERS want?"

Slamming his fist on the complimentary bowl of crackers, he noticed 90s Kid flinch.

Damn, not again.

"I'm sorry 90s Kid. You know I'm not an angry guy, just.... just its a lot" He said, brushing crumbs onto the floor. "I'm Linkara, this shouldn't be so hard, you know?"

"It's okay dude, no one ever said this was going to be easy" he replied, though avoiding eye contact. "At least you have us right? The dream team!"

Linkara looked over to Alison Pregger, who was in the middle of dancing with Harvey Finevoice to "Discord" by The Living Tombsone and cackling.

"Yeah right... the dream team..." he muttered.

The party lasted long into the night, and Linkara was the last to leave. As he crossed the wet Applebee's parking lot he looked at the wineos and heroin addicts scattered around him. In the corner a man spasmed and vibrated against a lamppost, another GONZOhead if ever he saw one.

They needed him, he thought. They needed him to save them from Trump. But would they vote? Of course they wouldnt vote. "Someone else will". It didn't matter how often he tweeted about it, some people couldn't be helped.

A small tug pulled on his brown pant. It was one of the wineos crawling out of the gutter.

"Ya got any change? Change?" He rasped in dry voice.

Linkara didn't know what happened next. It all just went... red. Next thing he knew he was lying back in the hotel bed nursing his sore knuckles.

He knew a guy who used to ask for change once. He used to ask for a lot of things. And Linkara ALWAYS gave it to him, like a good boy. But when it came time to get something back? To film in a warehouse sans supervision? Well, no dice.

"Not this time" he muttered under his breath. "No one's going to underestimate me ever again."

He took a deep breath to regain calm, and finally get some sleep, when he heard it. The door creaking open.

He was no longer alone.

[trumpkara]

Chapter Eight: Who could it be now?

The campaign trail had taken Linkara to a charming small town in Fargo. It was the kind of place where everyone knew each other, and the local coffee shop served as the heart of the community. Linkara had planned a visit to the shop, hoping to connect with voters on a more personal level and show them his dedication to their concerns and his latest thoughts on the new Spider-man comic book.

The coffee shop, a cozy establishment called "Bean There, Bean That," was bustling with activity when Linkara and his team arrived - only momentarily getting stuck trying to enter the doorway all at once. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sound of cheerful chatter, creating a welcoming atmosphere. Linkara greeted the patrons with warm smiles and handshakes, engaging in friendly conversations and listening to their stories. Someone muttered "Dont give him a latte!" but Linkara was able to suppress his rage and ignore it.

He was in the middle of a discussion with an elderly couple about the importance of affordable healthcare when the door swung open with a loud jingle. The room fell silent.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

In retrospect it was only a matter of time before they came across one another.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Each step pounded the ground, bringing the visitor closer to the fated encounter.

Thump. Thump.

He stopped. A wrinkled hand ran through wispy blonde hair and a dry voice greeted me.

"Well, well. If it isn't by biggest fan!"

Donald Trump's presence was magnetic, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

Linkara’s heart sank into his stomach and he felt it gurgle. He had heard rumors that the former president was in town, but he hadn’t expected a confrontation, not now, not when things were finally getting back on track after that bitch Nostalgic Chick threw him to the wolves. Trump’s expression was a mix of smugness and disdain as he eyed up Linkara, a milkshake in his hand.

“Look who it is,” Trump said loudly, drawing the attention of the entire coffee shop. “The fedora-wearing burp-munch himself.”

Linkara stood his ground, trying to maintain his composure. “Mr. Trump, I’m here to talk to the people about important issues. If you have something constructive to add, I’m all ears.”

Trump sneered, stepping closer. “Constructive? Ears? How about this?”

Without warning, Trump dumped the milkshake over Linkara’s head. Sticky goo trickled past the brim of his fedora and got into the shoes his Nana had bought him for his campaign. The crowd gasped in shock. Linkara felt a mix of humiliation and anger, his fists clenching at his sides.

Trump laughed, the sound harsh and mocking. “You think you can run this country? You’re a joke. Go back to reviewing comics, burpmunch.”

Linkara wiped the milkshake from his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He looked around the room, seeing the mixture of outrage and pity on the faces of the patrons. He knew he had to respond, but he also knew that losing his temper would only make things worse. Not this time. Not.... this time....

“Mr. Trump,” Linkara said, his voice as calm as he could muster, “you may think that bullying and insults make you strong, but they only show your weakness. I’m here to offer real solutions and to listen to the concerns of everyday Americans. That’s what leadership looks like.”

Trump’s smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. “Keep dreaming, kid. You’ll never make it.”

With that, Trump turned and left the coffee shop, his supporters following him out. He turned in the entrance before exiting.

"By the way" He sneered "Ive watched every episode of History of Power Rangers. With. Adblock. On."

The door jingled as he left.

90s Kid rushed to Linkara’s side, offering him a napkin. “Are you okay?”

Linkara nodded. “I’m fine. Let’s get back to what we came here for.”

As they left the coffee shop, Harvey clapped Linkara on the back. “You handled that like a champ. Trump’s just scared because he knows you’re a real threat.”

"Okay Harvey" Linkara replied, and did a little jog to catch up to 90s Kid.

Harvey hung back a little, watching him joke and guffaw with 90s Kid. When did he.... When did Linkara get so far away?

[trumpkara]

Chapter Seven: Thrice bitten, a little shy

The aftermath of the heated interview was chaotic. Media outlets dissected every word of Linkara’s outburst, and social media buzzed with reactions. CNN ran with the headline "Angry Reviewer tears apart Female reporter like a box of tissues", while NYT went with the gentler "Man in hat is bad". His supporters defended him fiercely, as they always had in the face of trolls, but detractors were equally, annoyingly vocal. It was clear that Linkara needed to address the situation head-on if he was to salvage his campaign.

The team convened early the next morning in a small conference room at their hotel. Harvey, 90's Kid, Allison Pregger, and a few other key members huddled around a table strewn with laptops, notes, and half-empty coffee cups and a few hip flasks for good measure.

“We need to get ahead of this dude,” 90s Kid said, his tone urgent but calm and panicky. “An apology video might help humanize you and show that you’re willing to admit when you’ve made a mistakes dude.”

Harvey nodded in agreement. “We can frame it as a passionate moment that got out of hand kid, emphasize your dedication to the cause. Just be sincere and honest.”

He smiled at Linkara, who silently turned away in response. The rest of the team noticed, but none were brave enough to address it.

Linkara sighed, running a hand through under his fedora. “Alright. Let’s do it. I’ll own up to it and explain where I was coming from.”

It wasn't a tactic he was used to taking, but his life was on the line here.

No. The whole country was on the line.

They quickly set up a small recording space in the hotel room, a simple backdrop with the campaign’s slogan, “Write a Better Tomorrow,” prominently displayed. The camera was positioned to capture Linkara in a flattering light, and Harvey adjusted the microphone by spit cleaning it.

Linkara sat down, taking a deep breath as he prepared to address the nation. He glanced at 90s Kid, who gave him an encouraging hang loose sign. Harvey counted down, and the camera started rolling.

“Hello and welcome to atop the fourth wa- oops, force of habit!,” Linkara began, the joke landing like a lead balloon. “I-I, uh, I wanted to take a moment to address what happened during my recent interview. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I reacted in a way that wasn’t appropriate. For that, I am truly sorry.”

He paused, gathering his thoughts. “My passion for improvement and holding comics accountable has always been a driving force in my life. Many people were happy enough seeing a woman in a battle bikini and say "Not my problem!" or look at Frank Miller and say "I like some of his stuff". It was only through my passion that I put a stop to all that. However, I understand that there’s a time and place for everything, and I should have maintained my composure. I want to assure you all that my commitment to this campaign and to making a positive change remains unwavering.”

As he continued, Linkara felt a sense of relief. The words flowed naturally, and he could see from the team’s reactions that he was striking the right tone. He was just about to wrap up when it happened—"In future I will make sure to-"

No.

A loud, involuntary burp escaped his lips, cutting through the air and reverberating off the walls. It must have lasted only a few seconds, but to Linkara his gastronomical biff would not end, echoing in his head over and over and over.

Beads of sweat started to collect under his fedora, and he clapped a hand over his mouth, his face flushing a deep crimson. Harvey and 90s Kid exchanged shocked glances, while Allison Pregger stifled a laugh.

Linkara tried to recover, but the damage was done. “I… I apologize for that. I’m truly sorry.”

Harvey quickly ended the recording, and the room erupted into a mix of laughter and disbelief.

“Oh my God,” Linkara groaned, burying his face in his hands. “That couldn’t have gone worse.”

90s Kid patted his shoulder, trying to suppress her own laughter. “It was an honest mistake. We can edit it out and try again.”

But it was too late, the recording was live. The campaign’s media team, who had been monitoring the live stream, reported that the clip had already gone viral. The hashtag #BurpGate was trending, and memes were spreading like wildfire.

The public reaction was a mixed bag. Some found it endearing and humanizing, while others saw it as further proof of Linkara’s unprofessionalism. The campaign’s detractors seized the opportunity to mock him, and late-night talk shows had a field day with the incident, with Jimmy Kimmel in particular doing a 40 minute "Linkara eats beans" sketch during his show.

As the days wore on, the situation only seemed to escalate. A small but vocal group of protesters gathered outside the hotel, chanting slogans and making themselves burp into megaphones while Linkara tried to sleep. Watching from a window, he felt a familiar knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach.

“This is getting out of hand kid,” Harvey said, pacing the room. “We need to address this head-on, before it spirals any further.”

90s Kid nodded in agreement. “We should hold a press conference dude, show that you’re taking this seriously and not shying away from the issue.”

"Are you kidding me?" Linkara spat, "That exactly what you said last time!"

Linkara took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. “Fine. Alright. Let’s do it.”

The team quickly organized a press conference in the hotel’s Kidz Fun Zone. Reporters packed the space, their cameras and microphones ready to capture every moment. Linkara stepped up to the podium, his expression resolute.

“Good afternoon,” he began, his voice calm and measured. “I want to address the events of the past few days, including the unfortunate moment during my apology video. I understand that it was an embarrassing slip-up, and I take full responsibility for it. I apologize to anyone who was hurt by my actions.”

He paused, looking directly into the cameras. “I am committed to this campaign and to the values we stand for. ‘Believe in Better’ is not just a slogan—it’s a promise. A promise that we can improve, learn from our mistakes, and keep pushing forward. I am here to listen, to learn, and to lead with integrity.”

As Linkara left the podium, Harvey and 90s Kid met him with relieved smiles. “You did it,” Harvey said. “This will blow over, you'll see. We’ll come out stronger for it. Trust me.”

Alison Pregger nodded. “People need to see.”

"Sure, whatever you say Finevoice" Linkara muttered and pushed past him. He didnt want to apologise in the first place, what a mess this had become.

"My Goddess. What else could go wrong?"

[trumpkara]

Chapter Six: The Grass isn't always Greener if you want it to be Blue

The campaign had been gaining momentum, and with increased visibility came increased scrutiny. Linkara had expected it. Running for president meant every aspect of his life would be under a microscope. But he was ready to face it all, this was nothing compared to piloting his spaceship and moving apartment while shipping out high quality episodes of Atop the Fourth Wall—until the moment he wasn't.

The day had been packed with events, culminating in a prime-time interview on one of the major news networks. Linkara had been prepping with Harvey and 90s Kid, going over potential questions and refining his answers. They knew this was a crucial opportunity to reach a broader audience.

The studio was buzzing with activity when Linkara arrived. Bright lights, bustling crew members, and the deafening hum of live broadcast energy filled the air. Linkara took a deep breath as he settled into his seat, adjusting his hat and magic gun. He was ready.

The anchor, a sharp-eyed woman named The Nostalgic Chick, greeted him with a professional smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Kind words were exchanged. Are you enjoying the campaign? Oh that's good! Nice weather today huh? Yes I imagine the hat helps a lot in the rain. No I havent heard of Frank Miller. Oh that's interesting. Yeah. Yeah. Batman? Uh-huh. Right. Okay.

Then it was time. As the cameras rolled, her demeanor shifted, becoming more assertive.

"Welcome, Linkara," she began, her tone cool and measured. "You’ve been making headlines with your unconventional campaign. But before we dive into your political platform, I’d like to address your past. Specifically, your history of angry comic book reviews. Some have described them as overly aggressive and unprofessional. Do you think that’s the kind of temperament we need in a president?"

Linkara’s smile faltered slightly. He had anticipated this question, but the sharpness in her tone caught him off guard. "Chick, I’ve always believed in being passionate about my work. My reviews were a way to express that passion and connect with my audience. They were never intended to be taken as a reflection of my character, but rather a critique of the material."

Chick leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "But don’t you think that kind of behavior—yelling, mocking—could be seen as a lack of control? How can voters trust someone who has a history of losing their temper over something as trivial as a comic book?"

"W-Well, I-"

"And you're so unqualified! How do you propose to fix the unemployment chasm? Or the countrywide GONZO epidemic?"

Linkara felt a flush of irritation rise in him, his cheeks burning. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. "Chick, those reviews were a form of entertainment, a way to engage with a community that shares my love for comics. It’s important to separate that from how I conduct myself in serious matters. My campaign is built on respect, integrity, respect and the belief in a better future. You know that."

Chick didn’t relent, his words bounced off her like flies on a window. "But isn’t it hypocritical to preach about respect and integrity when you’ve built a reputation on tearing things down? How do you reconcile that with your message?"

Linkara had never been good at maintaining his cool. He never suffered fools, even if they had something worthwhile to say.

"I..." He bit his lip. "I..."

"Oh no" said Alison Preggers.

"This is bad" Muttered Harvey. He knew Linkara. He knew him all too well.

The frustration boiled over, and before he could stop himself, Linkara leaned forward, his voice rising. "Enough! You’re taking something completely out of context! My reviews were about holding media accountable, about demanding better from the stories we consume. Yes, they were passionate, sometimes angry, hysterical at times, but they came from a place of wanting improvement! And if you can’t see the difference between entertainment and real-life values, then you’re missing the point entirely! YOU STUPID CANKER SORE OF A DISGRACE OF A REPORTER!"

The room went silent. The air crackled with tension. Chick stared at him, momentarily taken aback by his outburst. A small trail of drool tickled down the side of her mouth but she was too in shock to wipe. Linkara’s heart pounded in his chest, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. He had let his emotions get the best of him. Again.

Chick quickly regained her composure, her expression a mixture of triumph and professionalism. "Thank you for your honesty, Linkara. I think the voters will have a lot to consider after this." She smirk wryly, a veritable facet pouring out the corner of her mouth.

The interview wrapped up, and Linkara left the studio alone, his mind racing faster than what flash can do. He knew he had made a mistake. Harvey and 90s Kid were waiting for him outside, their faces reflecting a mix of concern and sympathy.

"That was rough kid," Harvey said, attempting to clap a hand on Linkara’s shoulder before he flinched away. "... B-but you handled it as best as you could."

Linkara sighed, rubbing his temples. "I lost my cool. That’s exactly what I didn’t want to happen."

90s Kid stepped forward, his expression firm. "It’s not the end of the world. Yes, it was a tough moment, but you spoke your truth dude. Now we need to focus on damage control and reminding people of who you really are. A radical bro!"

As he lay in bed that night, Linkara reflected on the day’s events. He felt a mix of regret and determination, knowing that his journey was far from over. The road ahead was still long and uncertain, but he was ready to face it, one step at a time. On step. At. A. Time.

[trumpkara]

Chapter Five: You Know Me Better Than That

The campaign trail had been relentless, but rewarding. Each day brought new challenges and triumphs, and Linkara’s team had grown closer, bonded by their shared mission. The new slogan, "Believe in Better," was resonating with people, and their campaign events were drawing larger and more enthusiastic crowds.

One evening, after a particularly successful rally in St. Louis, the team gathered in their hotel suite to celebrate. They laughed and talked, sharing stories and strategizing for the days ahead. The atmosphere was relaxed and jovial, a welcome respite from the usual stress of the campaign.

Linkara sat on a couch, sipping a glass of water, his thoughts drifting to the faces he had seen at the rally. Harvey plopped down beside him, holding a glass of whiskey. He leaned back, looking uncharacteristically contemplative.

"Great job today kiddo," Harvey said, clinking his glass against Linkara’s glass eye. "You’re really making a difference out there."

"Thanks, Harvey," Linkara replied, smiling. "I couldn’t do it without you and the rest of the team."

Harvey nodded, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "You know, I’ve been in PR for a long time, for years I was my own agent. I’ve seen a lot of people come and go. But you… you’re different. You actually care. It’s inspiring."

Linkara felt a surge of warmth at Harvey’s words. "That means a lot, coming from you."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the sounds of the team’s laughter and conversation filling the room. Harvey shifted closer, his expression suddenly serious.

"Linkara," he began, his voice soft. "There’s something I need to tell you."

Linkara turned to look at him, his brow furrowed. "What is it, Harvey?"

Harvey took a deep breath, his eyes searching Linkara’s face. "I… I’ve been feeling something for a while now. And I don’t know how to say this without making things weird, but… I think I have feelings for you."

The words hung in the air for an eternity, a palpable tension settling between them. Linkara’s heart raced, caught completely off guard. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Harvey leaned in and pressed his lips to Linkara’s in a sudden, impulsive kiss.

For a split second, Linkara was frozen in shock, his mind struggling to process what was happening. Unfamiliar lips pressed against his, searching for something he couldn't return. Gently pulling back, Linkara's eyes were wide and his thoughts a jumble of emotions.

"Harvey," he said softly, his voice steady but kind. "I… I didn’t know you felt that way. But I don’t think I can reciprocate those feelings."

Harvey’s face fell, for a split second a mix of embarrassment and disappointment flashrf across his features. "I’m... Oh God, I'm sorry," he said quickly, standing up and stepping back. "I-I shouldn’t have… I just thought…"

Linkara stood as well, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Harvey’s shoulder. "It’s okay, Harvey. You don’t have to apologize. This doesn’t change anything between us."

It was a lie. They both knew it was a lie. But it was a comforting lie.

"Probably just a glass of old hooch too much huh?"

Harvey nodded, tears in his eyes. "Not the heavyweight I used ta be... I s'pose..." he muttered with a hollow chuckle.

The moment died away, and they rejoined the group. The party wore on, they watched some 80s crapfest Allison Preggers suggested but Linkara was too distracted by glances Harvey stole at him to riff much.

As he lay in bed that night, Linkara reflected on the day’s events. He knew that with his team by his side, he could face anything. They believed in better, and together, they would keep moving forward, one step at a time.... right?

[trumpkara]

Chapter Four: Is this all there is?

The bus ride back to headquarters in Minneapolis was long but filled with a quiet sense of accomplishment. Linkara had spent weeks crisscrossing the country, sharing his vision and listening to the stories of everyday Americans. His campaign was gaining traction, but it still needed a unifying element, something that could distill his message into a powerful rallying shriek, not unlike the Irish banshees of old.

[EDITORS NOTE: Linkara was sired by an ancient Banshee in the ruins of Loch Hata]

Linkara sat at the small table at the back of the bus, surrounded by his core team. 90s Kid was slamming away on his Windows 94, Harvey was reviewing the latest poll numbers, and Alison Pregger was scrolling through LakeCityQuietPills.com.

“We need a slogan dude,” 90s Kid said, not looking up from his screen. “Something that captures your vision and resonates with people. Like "I run the country so you dont have to!"”

Linkara nodded, leaning back in his seat, scratching his chinny chin with a big finger. “I’ve been pondering about that. It needs to be something simple yet profound, something that speaks to the heart of what we’re trying to achieve.”

Harvey looked up from his big paper. “How about ‘Stories Matter’? It ties into your background and emphasizes the importance of every individual’s narrative kid.”

Alison Pregger shook her head. “It’s good, but it’s not quite there. It feels too passive. We need something that feels active and forward-looking.” she said, finally getting her head to stop shaking.

Linkara rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of the moment. “What if we focus on the idea of building something together? This campaign isn’t just about me, kind of—it’s about all of us, creating a future where everyone’s voice is heard.”

90s Kid paused his typing and looked up. “Building… how about ‘We're Gonna Take You Back to the Past’? It’s inclusive and optimistic, and it speaks to the collective effort needed to bring about change.”

Linkara considered it, repeating the words in his mind. It was good, but it still felt a bit gay. He needed something more personal, something that tied back to his unique perspective.

“What if we combine that idea with the notion of comic books?” Linkara suggested. “We’re all part of this narrative, and together, we can shape it.”

Harvey snapped his fingers. “How about ‘See Our Future’? It’s active, it’s inclusive, and it ties into your background as a storyteller. Plus, it’s a call to action.”

Linkara shook his head, yet another stupid idea, good thing there was at least one writer in the room.

"'Write Our Future’. It’s perfect. It emphasizes the collective effort, the importance of each person’s story, and the idea that we have the power to shape what comes next.”

90s Kid typed the slogan into his machine and it made a big DING noise. “‘Write Our Future’. I like it. It’s strong, memorable, its strong, and it encapsulates everything we’re trying to achieve.”

Alison Pregger nodded in agreement. “It good.”

The official launch of the slogan was scheduled for a rally in Chicago, a city known for its vibrant cultural scene and diverse population and big bean. As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the city, a large crowd gathered, filling the park with a palpable sense of anticipation.

Linkara stood backstage, listening to the hum of the crowd. He felt a mix of nerves and excitement. This was a pivotal moment for his campaign, a chance to solidify his message and inspire people to join his movement.

Harvey placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got this, kid. Just speak from the heart, like you always do.”

Linkara nodded, taking a deep breath and stared back into Harvey's swimmable blues. “Thanks, Harvey. Let’s do this.”

As he stepped onto the stage, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. He took a moment to soak in the energy, finally, he was getting the respect he deserved.

“Thank you, Beaners!” he began with a broad smile. "It's incredible to see so many of you here tonight. Your presence gives me hope and strengthens my belief that together, we can create a future where every voice is heard and every story matters."

"But this campaign is not just about my story. It's about your stories. It's about the stories of teachers and students, of workers and entrepreneurs, of families struggling to make ends meet and individuals fighting for their rights, and families fighting to teach about their rights to work. It's about you, and it's about me!"

The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers. Linkara felt a surge of confidence.

"And that brings me to the heart of why we are here tonight. We are not just here to campaign. We are here to make a promise to each other. A promise that we will work together, fight together, and dream together. We will not be passive participants in our future but active authors of our destiny!!"

The crowd went mental, hands started to glow bright red from all the applause and one guy yelled so loud he died. Linkara ran up and down the isle giving high fives like some mad life coach. Now and again he had to stop to catch his breath and fight off the fans trying to steal his hat.

Backstage Linkara dug into a pile of well earned crackers and dew.

"Uhhh dude?" 90s Kid approached him sheepishly "Great job out there!"

"I know!" Linkara beamed, face full of pride and crumbs.

"Just... you didn't mention to slogan"

"I-... oops!" Linkara chuckled "Oh well, maybe next time!"

This campaigning stuff was harder than it seemed!

[trumpkara]

Chapter Three: Welcome to Detroit

The response to Linkara's announcement was immediate and overwhelming. His email inbox, always a flurry of activity thanks to the "Email Jerk", was now flooded with messages of support, skepticism, and outright disbelief. Social media buzzed with reactions, from trending hashtags to heated debates. News sites were suddenly scrambling to report on the internet funny man who was upending the political sphere out of no where.

Linkara stood in the center of his studio, centering himself and practicing his Tai Chi as his late master had taught him. Reading through the comments on his announcement video, he took in the range of reactions. Harvey and 90s Kid flanked him, offering their own commentary and support.

“This one thinks you’re a genius kid,” Harvey said, pointing to a comment and leaving behind a greasy fingerprint smudge. “And this one thinks you’re absolutely crazy!”

Linkara chuckled. “Well, at least they’re talking about it. That’s a start.” Though he felt a twinge of annoyance at the latter comment.

90s Kid adjusted his shades, his expression serious. “We need to capitalize on this momentum dude. The media is going to want interviews, and we need to get you in front of as many people as possible.”

Harvey nodded in agreement. “We’ve got a few local news stations lined up for tomorrow kid, and I’m working on getting you on some national platforms. We need to craft a consistent message and stick to it, just like Frank always said.”

Linkara felt the weight of their words. This was no longer just an idea. If there was a time to go back, it had long passed. It was real, and the world was watching. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s do it.”

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. Linkara found himself thrust into a media frenzy, giving interviews and appearing on talk shows. Each appearance was an opportunity to share his vision, but also a test of his resolve and adaptability. Not to mention having to keep putting out episodes of his successful "Atop the Fourth Wall" show and moving into a new apartment.

His first major interview was with a local news station in Minneapolis. The studio was brightly lit, brighter then he ever lit his living room while yelling about comics. The cameras rolling as he sat across from the seasoned anchor.

“Welcome, Linkara,” she began with a warm smile. “Your announcement has certainly stirred up a lot of conversation. What made you decide to run for president?”

Linkara leaned forward, his voice steady. “I’ve always believed in the power of stories to change lives. Our country is facing a lot of challenges right now, and I think it’s time for a new perspective. I’m not a politician, but I am someone who cares deeply about our future. I want to bring honesty, creativity, and a focus on education to the forefront of our national conversation.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Okay.”

“I understand the concern,” Linkara replied. “But I believe that what we need now isn’t more career politicians. We need people who can connect with everyday Americans, who can bring fresh ideas and a willingness to listen. I’ve spent years engaging with a community that cares about storytelling and integrity, and I believe those skills can translate to effective leadership.”

She nodded again. “Alright.”

"For too long this country has been under the thumb of deplorable bastards. america needs a hero right now, and I have all the experience I need fighting evil. They will fall to my feet, and I will lead us into a glorious future."

She nodded again. “Okay.”

As the days turned into weeks, the campaign began to take shape. 90s Kid worked tirelessly to organize events, while Harvey continued to manage the media onslaught. Linkara found himself traveling across the country, meeting with supporters and listening to their stories. The work was tiring but satisfying, not unlike putting out acclaimed episodes of Atop the Fourth Wall while also having to move apartments.

One of the most memorable stops was in a small town in New York. The local community center was packed, the air buzzing with anticipation. Linkara stood at the front, his heart pounding as he looked out at the sea of faces all wearing his signature fedora, which had by now become an icon of his campaign. These were the people he wanted to represent, the stories he wanted to amplify.

“Thank you for being here,” he began, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.

After the event, Linkara spent hours talking with attendees, shaking hands, and posing for pictures, answering questions about the logistics of a Bat Credit Card. It was exhausting, but also invigorating. He felt a renewed sense of purpose with each interaction, each story shared.

Back on the campaign bus, Linkara slumped into a seat, tired but satisfied. 90s Kid handed him a bottle of gatorade, his eyes twinkling with a mix of exhaustion and excitement.

“You did turbo rad out there,” he said. “People are really responding to you.”

Linkara smiled, taking a long drink. “Thanks, 90s Kid. I just hope I can live up to their expectations.”

Harvey, sitting across from them, leaned forward. “You’re doing more than that, Linkara. You’re giving them hope. And right now, that’s exactly what they need.”

As the bus rumbled down the highway, Linkara stared out the window, the landscape blurring into a tapestry of possibility. The road ahead was long and uncertain, but for the first time, he felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. He was not just a comic book reviewer anymore. He was a candidate for president, and he was determined to make a difference.

If only he knew just how true that was.

[trumpkara]

Chapter Two: To Those Few

The decision to run for president was made in the quiet of his studio, a promise to himself alone. But Linkara knew that announcing it to the world would be anything but. He spent the next few weeks in a whirlwind of preparation, reaching out to friends, family, his Nana, and trusted advisors. He needed a plan, a platform, and a team that believed in his vision. Believe in the great Linkara. This wasn't a whim or another flight of fancy - this would happen. He was certain.

Linkara's first call was to Harvey Finevoice, a longtime friend and occasional collaborator on his show. Harvey had a knack for public relations and a suave demeanor that contrasted sharply with Linkara’s earnestness, but there was no one he trusted more.

"Are you out of your mind kid?" Harvey screamed into the receiver "You’re a comic book reviewer, not a ding darn politician!"

"Exactly," Linkara replied, leaning forward earnestly. "I'm not a politician. I'm a regular guy. A guy who loves DC, Power Rangers, apple pie, the LGBT, and, most of all, this country. I believe it can be better. I think people are ready for someone different, someone who understands them."

Harvey sighed, rubbing his temples. "Okay kid, let's say I believe you. What’s your platform? What do you stand for?"

Linkara smirked his infamous smirk. He had spent sleepless nights thinking about that very question. "I stand for honesty, integrity, and the belief that everyone’s story matters. I stand for standing up for the little guy. I stand for making sure Frank Miller never gets work again. I want to promote creativity and the arts because they teach us empathy and critical thinking. And I want to ensure that everyone, no matter their background, has a chance to succeed."

Harvey took a swig of whiskey, weighing the sincerity in his words. "Alright kid," he finally said, "I’m in. But we need to do this right. We’ll need a campaign manager, a speechwriter, and a strategy."

Over the next few days, Harvey assembled a small but dedicated team. 90s Kid, an old friend with a background in political science and marketing, agreed to be his campaign manager. He was over the top but passionate, qualities Linkara desperately needed. Linkara also reached out to Alison Pregger and Phelous, other internet reviewers and a trusted allies.

With his team in place, Linkara scheduled the announcement. He had fat chance of getting on CNN or even the smallest of news sites. So he did what he always did, he talked to his fans. They decided on a live stream, a medium where he was comfortable and where his fans could interact directly for a small fee. The announcement would be held in his studio immediately after a Pokemon Red stream.

As the countdown to the live stream began, Linkara took a deep breath and looked around at the familiar faces of his friends and colleagues. They believed in him, and that gave him strength. He stepped in front of the camera, the bright lights illuminating his determined expression.

The Pokemon Red stream went to shit. He couldn't beat brock and he accidently released his starter.

"Oops, butterfingers" He laughed, after all, how could he possibly focus on a game right now?

"For years, I’ve reviewed comics, movies, and television shows, sharing my thoughts and opinions with all of you. I’ve always believed in the power of stories, in their ability to inspire, teach, and bring us together. Today, I’m here to share a new chapter in my story."

He paused, letting his words sink in. The live chat was already buzzing with speculation and excitement.

"I’ve watched the state of our country with growing concern," he continued. "I see division, fear, and a lack of understanding. I believe it’s time for a change, for a new voice to step forward. That’s why I’m announcing my candidacy for President of the United States."

The chat exploded with reactions, ranging from disbelief to enthusiastic support. Linkara raised his hand to calm the flurry of comments and they naturally obeyed.

"I know this sounds unconventional," he said with a smile. "But I’ve always been an unconventional guy. Just look at my robots! But I’m not a politician. I’m one of you. And together, we can make this country a place where every story is heard and respected."

He laid out his platform, speaking from the heart about his vision for education, the arts, and equal opportunities for all. He spoke of the need for honesty in leadership and the power of community. And most of all he directly addressed Trump.

"You've had your time in the spotlight Drumpf" he said with a smirk "Now, it's Linkara's turn"

As he concluded, Linkara looked directly into the camera, his expression resolute. "This campaign is not just about me. It’s about all of us. It’s about believing that we can be better, that we can do better. Join me in this journey, and let’s write the next chapter of America’s story together. Because I am a man... and together we will be MEN."

The stream ended, and the room erupted in applause. 90's kid slapped him on the back and knocked the wind out of him. Harvey Finevoice raised a glass in toast and tried to wink, accidentally blinking instead. Linkara felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He had taken the first step, and there was no turning back. The journey ahead would be challenging, but he was ready. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of purpose beyond the confines of his studio, the four walls that had contained him so long.

He was ready to take on the world.