It was election time in the US of A, in the specific year of 2060. The sixty-ninth president was to be decided by his slash her people, when two old codgers met in the supermarket.

“Harland.”

“Ronald.”

“How’s your back holding up?” asked Ronald when he spied Harland holding a feeble hand to his spine.

“Pretty good, all things considered,” Harland shrugged. “They fixed me up something fierce, but it’s those restraining bolts, ya know, they tickle inside me.”

“You know that’s all in your damned head, Harland. Ya ain’t got no sense of touch inside your fool body.”

“Well, you can say a lot about President Jameson,” Harland joked, “but at least he didn’t fuck up our healthcare or I’d really be up shit creek with no paddle and a busted back!”

The two paused to share a healthy, deep laugh.

“It’s too bad he did fuck up so many other things,” Ronald recollected.

“But at least we know not to blame those blasted ponies,” Harland offered in counter. “If anything, they helped fix it.”

“I know, Harland, I know. Wasn’t one of your surgeons a unicorn?”

“That’s right, Ronald, and a fine job he did. I’m not even scarred!”

“Getting back to that other topic,” Ronald interrupted as he sized up a cucumber to perhaps purchase, “did you hear ‘bout this year’s election?”

“Afraid not. The missus doesn’t let me watch any news about it. And put that thing away, it’s no good. Get the other one.”

“There’s a pony running.”

“No shit!” Harland spat, tightening his grip on the shopping cart in surprise. “Republican or democrat?”

“Neither, far as I heard. I think she went on the record saying they were both, and I quote, ‘full of crap and creampuffs’.”

“Oh, that’s a good one, Ron. I should get some while I’m here anyway.”

“Crap?”

“That too. Anyway,” Harland joked, “who’re you gonna vote for? Republican, democrat, or pony?”

“I’ve lived long enough to be fucked up the ass by both, Harland. I’m with the pony.”

“So… you said ‘she’ earlier. A woman pony running for presidency,” Harland mused. “Jesus Christ naked on a runway, Ron. What is this world coming to?”

“We can only go up after the shit Jameson pulled,” Ronald offered. “What about you, then?”

Harland remained silent as he picked out some nice tomatoes. “I’m seriously considering the pony, to be honest. What’s her name again?”

Ronald took a turn in silence. “Ah, let me think… dammit.” He turned to a young man who incidentally passed to get some apples. “Hey, kid. Do you know the name of that one pony running for presidency?”

Steve pushed up his shades as he looked back at the old man. “Pudding Pop, sir. I’m considering a vote for her, actually. Is there anything else?”

“Nah, thanks kid.”

“Have a good day sir,” Steve nodded. He mumbled to himself as he returned to his own shopping, “Now what kind of apple did Sky ask for again…

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When Ronald got home with his groceries, he sat down at his heavily outdated (but still younger than he was) computer.

“What did that kid say again? Ah right. ‘Pudding Pop’,” he recalled as he entered the candidate’s name in the search field. “Blasted old age. I’m hardly over ninety and I can already feel my mind going. Now, if only I could remember to look into those memory implants they’d been writing about.”

Ronald was pretty fierce on using dark comedy to stave off the terror of early-onset old age.

“Senator Pudding Pop. There we go…”

Pudding Pop is expected to not get as many votes from the Equestrian populace because of her ancestry. Pudding Pop is a direct descendant of the infamous Chancellor Puddinghead, who was known for many ill-advised choices in the political arena of pre-Celestial Equestria. Even so, there are estimated to be plenty ponies who do not hold the sins of the father against Pudding Pop. In Texas, there is significant disagreement on the senator’s refusal to swear on the Bible, saying that she was raised Celestial and feels one’s “political capabilities should not be judged on some dusty old book.”[14]

“Well… that oughta be interesting,” Ronald mused. “Hell, even if this Pudding Pop is as nutty as this chancellor, she can’t do much worse than Jameson!”

------=======------

A few months later, Ronald sat in front of his TV (as old as his computer) and switched to the election news just in time to see a pretty young thing he couldn’t remember the name of stand in front of a CG state-by-state info display, in a tasteful black and blue ensemble.

“And winning by a landslide against current president Jonah Jameson and Senator Creed, Senator Pudding Pop takes Minnesota,” the young lady reported as behind her, a bar rose up that was mostly pink, with small bits in red and blue. “George, what does that mean for the overall election?”

The camera switched to a sharp-dressed, dark-coated unicorn stallion behind a desk, well-polished hooves resting on the ever-present little stack of papers. They didn’t even use those on the news, and hadn’t for years now, but they were tradition. Ronald suspected they only had the one set. It took a moment for him to notice that George didn’t have a pony-like name.

“Well, Linda, it means that in the grand scheme of things,” the stallion started with a silky-smooth voice, “it’s very likely that Senator Pudding Pop will win this election and succeed President Jameson.”

Ronald took a wild guess at what George’s cutie mark could be. Probably one of those old-school fancy-looking microphones, with a voice like that.

“It should be pretty interesting, though. Latest news has it that the senator, if elected, will compromise on the whole ‘swearing on the bible’ thing by instead using a copy of the Tenets of Celestia. We’ll see how that works out in the upcoming Texas tally.”

A picture of the two senators and sitting president appeared behind George with the caption “2060 ELECTIONAL RODEO – 8 HOURS REMAIN”. George turned around to look at the picture.

“Wow. How’d I miss that all this time? Pudding Pop looks like the Element of Laughter. That’s actually kinda scary.”

True enough, Pudding Pop came quite close – pink coat, darker pink mane. But her eyes were a deep purple, with an almost politically-appropriate predatory look to them. And the senator’s cutie mark, George knew, was completely off. Flashing his horn, the stallion pulled his cellphone out from behind his desk and held them in front of him. The camera view switched again, showing both hosts in frame just as Linda returned from the big display and sat down.

“Ah, there it is,” George announced. He swiped his horn from the phone’s screen to the image behind him, basically throwing whatever he’d looked up into the background and revealing three pink ponies in a row – Chancellor Puddinghead, Lady Pinkie Pie, and Senator Pudding Pop, all very clearly different when shown side by side.

“No need for alarm, ladies and gentlemen,” George joked as he wiped some nervous sweat from his brow.

With a comically exaggerated “bloop”, the images disappeared again. “Linda, what’s the status on Texas, if you have it?”

“They’re still tallying the votes, George.”

Linda turned directly to the camera, which duly, slowly zoomed in.

“I, for one, welcome our equine overlords.”

Author's Note

Thanks to JunkyardDog for QC.

Names: The old codgers are named after Ronald McDonald and Colonel Harland Sanders. The 62nd president is named by Warmaisach, and the other guy by JunkyardDog.

And yes, the subplots are interconnected.