Agamemnon for President!

CHAPTER I: The Canvassing Begins

“Brrrrreh”, I mumbled, staring at the computer screen. My eyes seemed to immediately visualize the words on my iTunes window: “Animals As Leaders.” They, by the way, are a complex progressive metal band from the USA, but their genre wasn’t exactly why I was driven into thought. “What if it were to be true?!” The words echoed inside my head, as I gulped the last sip of tea from my mug. As further thoughts about this intriguing idea were just about to flood my imagination, there was a dissonant sound from my balcony; one of a flower pot falling to it’s death. Gazing towards the window, I noticed a pair of eyes staring at me constantly, like I was a tuna or something. “Agamemnon! You lousy oaf!” I yelled. “AV, my man!” he mewed, preparing to sit down at the crime scene. “It’s a beautiful day and that girl, your crush was..” “Quit stalling. Seriously,” I yelled. “This is the fourth flowerpot that has lost it’s life trying to bear the weight of your obese body frame!” “Tch tch tch tch,” he purred, as he continued to gently lick his paw. “You are privileged to have around you a potential leader,” he said. “Potential leader? Ha! More like a potential flower pot killer,” I sneered. “You have to vote for me, my man! You are a great orator and a worthwhile friend.” “Your symptoms indicate a severe case of infection,” I nodded. “You’ve been infected by the electoral virus.” I knew what the cat was thinking. “Your Masters degree isn’t a total waste then,” thought Agamemnon, as his expression changed into one of seriousness and concern.

CHAPTER II: Arrival Of The Opposition

“Greetings, human!” squeaked Samantha. “I see my fellow squirrels here have informed you about my motives before and after being elected Member of the Legislative Assembly.” “I was never good in social studies, Sam,” I replied. “But yes, I’m aware about your motives. Would you like some peanuts or some figs?” “Aren’t you a sweetheart, AV? You certainly know how to impress a woman.” Well yeah, I did blush. So what?! Samantha is, after all the rodent femme fatale of my locality. As I returned with a few peanuts, Agamemnon said, “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, squirrels belong inside cat guts, not inside parliaments.” As stupid as this sounds, I had to intervene before, umm, a brawl could break out. I felt like an imbecile trying to stop two sycophants who no matter how different in size had worn the same façade: one of nobility, magnanimity and munificence.  Slowly gathering my thoughts, I said, “Easy there, folks! We don’t want anyone getting hurt.” The ‘anyone’ I was referring to was clearly the poor lone flowerpot. “I’ll get you a new one,” smirked Agamemnon, clearly deciphering my euphemism.  “Oh Agamemnon! I’m sold!” I muttered sarcastically. “AV sees your motives, dumb cat brute,” screamed Samantha, munching her peanut. My head meanwhile was a swarm of questions. Whom should I support? How do I justify my volition even if I do make a decision? Whom should I trust: A narcissistic rodent or an obese cat? As the two parties were embroiled in a war of words, or rather, a war of squeaks, mews and purrs, a loud bark echoed from below. “I’m coming up good brother,” said an excited Monty. “Keep your strays away!” I yelled “They dirty the whole place!” By now, I was completely filled with sympathy for the pink organ locked inside my cranium.

CHAPTER III: The Agony Intensifies

Greeting my mother with a profusely wagging tail, Monty made his way into the balcony. “What movies would a father dog recommend to his pup to make him realize the importance of bones?” asked a jubilant Monty, who had made it a habit to commence his talks with unfunny jokes. “He didn’t really tell me,” I said impulsively. “The Bone Trilogy,” he blurted out. Monty and Samantha burst out laughing. I was listening to a dog use wisecracks. I’ll be damned! One could actually siphon out the embarrassment that I felt, emanating from the situation. “Though you have completely lost your mind, I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” I snarled, wiping off Samantha’s peanut shrapnel and Monty’s drool which had resulted from the vicious eruption of laughter. “Haha! You do know the dog actor in the movies, don’t you?” continued Monty. “What do I look like Monty?! The Mayor of Dogville? How on earth would I know the dog actor, or for that matter any dog actor?!” I yelled, cringing even more at the sheer disgust of having animal saliva on my face. “Mutt Damon”, retorted Monty, almost immediately after I finished speaking. There was an eerie silence for the following three seconds. Instinctively, I covered my face, anticipating another outburst of laughter and the subsequent spit shower. The laughter commenced again, much more vicious this time. Agamemnon, however, clearly unimpressed by the puerility of Monty’s words said, “Can we now get back to our business here, Bill Cosbys of the animal world?” That was probably the most honest thing to have been uttered by the cat. “Of course,” I agreed, with my face still covered by my palms. Monty began his canvassing process.

CHAPTER IV: The Solution Lies In The ARSE (Allocation of Ranks According to Skill and Excellence)

“It’s silly for us to be fighting for positions when clearly, even the victor won’t be at peace,” said Samantha, who had finally recovered from her laughter episode. “We are all proficient in certain areas,” she continued “And it would be best that we fight for one another in our own separate ways.” A slight smile appeared on my face. “The other strays are sons of bitches,” growled Monty “They would never agree.” I thought to myself: “You do understand that dogs aren’t perturbed by that abuse, don’t you Monty?” Fearing that I might unknowingly give Monty an opportunity to say something stupid, I decided to remain silent. “I’ll convince the others,” said Agamemnon. He had the wonderful knack of convincing, confusing, criticizing and cursing people, each at the perfect situation. Besides, aided by his phenomenal English, the cat would manage to gather the support of the other animals. I knew this. “So,” I interjected. “Monty is obviously faithful, alert, has a keen sense of hearing and smell, and..” “And a sense of humor,” sneered Monty, delighted as always to have interrupted me. “You were saying,” shouted Agamemnon and Samantha together, clearly scorning Monty for his ill-timed words. “Thanks, guys,” I continued. “So Monty could easily take care of defense and security related affairs.” “Bravo!” the three animals screamed. “Samantha?” I asked. “Would you be in charge of food and agriculture? You squirrels know exactly how and where to keep food safe. Your strategy of storing eatables is indubitably the most efficient.” “If only everyone was as smart as you, AV!” said Samantha with a seductive smile; batting her eye lashes like a catty teenager who had just met her Prince Charming.  “Agamemnon could be president,” I quickly said, well aware of the repercussions. “Anarchy, chaos, apocalypse!” barked Monty. “It’s just unfair,” complained Samantha, as her smile vanished, making way for an expression filled with spite. “Would you at least hear me out?” I asked, calmly placing my palm over Samantha’s head. “Let the man talk!” beamed a visibly happy Agamemnon, quite stunned by the sudden importance I had given him. “Agamemnon is sly, shrewd, has the ability of getting his work done, is a good orator, is named after one of Greece’s greatest warlords, can..” “Fine,” interrupted Samantha, smiling weakly.  “Besides, Agamemnon is obese like every other President,” chuckled Monty, enjoying the fact that his humor had manifested itself into the situation. Or so it seems. “Damn I’m good!” I thought to myself, sensing how effortlessly and competently I had convinced the animals. In what can be described as an incredibly uncanny coincidence, we all yelled in unison: “Agamemnon for President!”

CHAPTER V: Discretion Is The Better Part Of Valor

The situation had eased out. I was relieved. The three animals were happy. As they were about to disperse, a hoard of critters approached the balcony. It was like something that had no end. The uninvited creatures were clearly unhappy about our unofficial ‘rally’. Amidst the crowd, I clearly identified the party members. Their identities were far too obvious. There was Gopal the Cricket (Chairman, BCCI – Board of Cricket Control India), Julia the Sparrow (Local Leader, CJS – Captain Jack Sparrow), Savitri Devi the Cockroach (Chief Secretary, CAB – Cockroaches Against Brooms) and Shiva the Pigeon (Party Leader, UAPP – United Alliance for Pooping on People). However, I wasn’t worried about them, as much as the rest of the crowd: the animal press. “Sir, does the cat get your support?” asked a certain rat news reporter. My eyes sparkled with glee as I watched Agamemnon’s deep eyes shut him up. But there were far too many questions arising from far too many reporters. “What are our contingencies, human?” screamed the newly arrived party members. “People, people,” I moaned, desperately trying to wipe off the lackadaisical, clueless expression from my face. “I have to attend to a matter that requires my most urgent attention.” “Don’t be an escapist, Mr. Vasudev”, remarked a Mynah from the press. “We hear that you’re canvassing for Monty as the Defense Minister, Samantha as the Food Minister, and most shockingly, Agamemnon as the president!” Sensing the complexity of the question and situation, I realized something. It was an act of bravery for me, to have made three animals nod to my political ideas, but no more. I would make a fool of myself if I were to delve deeper into the situation. The media can be ruthless. Sensing the opportune moment, I chuckled, “No further questions, ladies and gentlemen; I must now leave. I have to get my Voter’s ID done.” Agamemnon looked slyly and Samantha and Monty. The three then looked at me with a huge grin. As I waved at the audience, the three yelled: “Anup for President!”

~ PHOTO GALLERY ~

A dedicated Agamemnon overseeing an early morning Rat Kill Rally.
He was affected by Conjunctivitis at the time.

Monty doing what he does best (apart from cracking unfunny jokes). This, by the way, was the only time we could click a picture of him. He doesn't like the camera. This is also the only picture we have of him. He's a very attentive sleeper.

Agamemnon's deep eyes deter even the most persistent rat news reporters.
Pity he doesn't clean them very often.

Samantha (before her political days) as a super model.
(Face censored to protect Samantha's identity and to protect viewers from her hideous lips)