Young Bernie Sanders walked into the office of his close personal friend, Martin Luther King Jr.
“Hey Martin,” started Bernie, “I have an idea for a speech.”
“Well all of your ideas are golden, Bernie. From our long, in-depth personal relationship I’ve grown to see you as not only a partner, but a son.”
“Thank you,” screeched Young Bernie Sanders, “But onto my speech.”
“Let’s hear it,” said Dr. Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. to his best friend and surrogate son, Bernie Sanders.
“Well Martin,” began Bernie, “It starts with you saying ‘I Have A Dream’….”
“Get a job, Bernie!” screamed Bernie Sanders’ father, Bernard II.
“You don’t understand, dad!” scoffed Young Bernie Sanders.
Bernard II laughed, “What is it I don’t understand? You’ve failed at everything you’ve ever tried because you don’t really try. You just start and beg the government to finish for you. That’s not how things work! Now ever since you cheesed your way through college, all you do is hang out in the basement and write rape fanfiction!”
“PARENTS JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND!” yelled Bernie as he balled his tiny hands into fists and punched the wall.
“Here’s you schmear, sir,” said the cafe worker as she handed Young Bernie Sanders his bagel.
“But I’m not done my crossword!” screamed Bernie.
“Sorry, sir. Not a lot of people in the cafe today. We got to your order straight-away. You’re welcome to stay and enjoy your bagel and your crossword simultaneously.”
“NO!” bellowed Bernie at the absolute top of his lungs, “This is total garbage! I bring the crossword to do while I wait for the schmear! Now that I have the schmear I don’t need the crossword!”
Bernie dramatically threw the bagel and the crossword in the trash.
“I’m sorry sir,” continued the worker, “But we made the bagel too fast. This isn’t the USSR, we don’t have bread lines here.”
“What’d you just say?” yawped Bernie.
“Bread lines. They’re where you wait in line for hours and maybe get bread or, in this case, a bagel.”
Bernie looked at his crossword strewn about the trash and, with tears streaming down his face, shrieked, “It sounds so beautiful.”
Dr. Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. burst into Young Bernie Sanders’ parents basement where Bernie lived and screamed, “Bernie, we have a problem!”
“What’s that bro?” asked Bernie lackadaisically. Bernie was exhausted because he’d spent the morning thinking about maybe applying for a job.
“I just got word of a young teenage corrupt warhawk living in Chicago, Illinois. She’s a Goldwater Girl and, even now, accepts cash bribes and calls them speaking fees.”
“That’s disgusting!” screamed Bernie. He felt physically ill.
“Snap out of it, Bernie!” yelled Martin Luther King Jr., “That’s not all.”
Bernie’s face went grey.
“We have word,” continued Martin, “That she, a moderate Republican, is going to one day try and join the Democratic Party so she can destroy it from the inside out.”
Bernie screamed and fell to the floor. He could not imagine a person so evil.
“Who could be so evil?!” screamed an inconsolable Bernie Sanders.
“Well,” intimated Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. through gritted teeth, “Her name is Hilary.”
“What are you doing with your life?!” screamed Bernard II at his son, Young Bernie Sanders.
“I’m dreaming, dad!”
“Dreaming doesn’t pay the bills!”
“In the future, people won’t pay bills! The government will fax them all the money and then we’ll go to our damn cafes and do our damn crosswords while we wait for hours and then maybe get a bagel.”
“That’s crazy Bernie. If people don’t have to work and if they’ve already had breakfast, what’ll they do with their day? Your system doesn’t work!”
“Au contraire,” scoffed Bernie, demonstrating his mastery of the French language, “They’ll spend the rest of the day in someone’s basement vaping marijuana from their electronic cigarettes.”
A single tear rolled down Bernard II’s cheek. Bernie’s future was everything he had ever wanted but had been too afraid to ask for. Bernard II realized it was too late to hope for a better future and continued screaming, “Electronic cigarettes? That’s an insane idea. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“If I was in charge,” hollered a misty-eyed Bernie Sanders as he looked off into the distance, “We’d call it vaping.”
Bernie Sanders was thinking hard about assembling a deck and congratulating himself on a job well done. He’d paid a neighbourhood street urchin to put down one support beam and decided that that was enough.
“Good job Bernie,” howled Bernie to Bernie.
Just then his only client, his uncle Larry, walked up.
“Not to be rude there,” started Larry Sanders, “But you’ve been workin’ on this for two years there Bernie. This isn’t much of a deck.”
Bernie Sanders was furious. He threw all of his tools into the trash. He started jumping up and down and screaming, “THIS IS ALL YOU NEED!”
“I’m sorry Bernie, but I’m gonna have to look somewhere else. This, this isn’t a deck.”
Bernie went red in the face and kept on screaming, “You millionaires and billionaires are all the same. Trying to take advantage of the 99%.”
Larry worked part-time at a gas station. Bernie knew this.
“Stop, Larry!” screamed Bernie as he sprinted, crying, into the forest. He ran for hours until he came to a clearing and noticed a hooded figure.
“You know,” began the hooded figure as he took off his hood to reveal that he was, in fact, Jesus Christ, “I wasn’t a very good carpenter, either.”
“But Jesus, skill doesn’t matter!” cried Bernie, “Everyone should be whatever they feel like doing in the morning!”
Jesus laughed and whispered, “Oh I agree, Bernie. That’s why I said nearly exactly that in the bible. You know, you’re the most Christ-like candidate.”
“I’m an atheist,” growled Bernie.
“I feel like that’s an untenable position. I mean, I’m Jesus Christ and I’ve appeared to you. That’s gotta do something.”
“Facts are a tool of the 1%” screamed Bernie.
“We’re getting off topic,” continued Jesus Christ, “I came to you because someone needs help.”
“What? I’m doing fine.”
“You’re doing great, Bernie. No notes. There’s nothing wrong with spending all of your time unemployed and writing rape fanfiction. It doesn’t matter that you’ve never had a real job, that you’re bad at everything, that your political views suggest that you’ve never read a real book in your entire life. None of that matters. You’re doing great.”
“Thanks Jesus,” roared Bernie.
“It’s not you that needs help.”
“Who is it, Jesus?”
“It’s America, Bernie.”
Jesus continued, “When I founded this country in 1776 I knew it had the potential to be the greatest country in the history of America. Only problem is that millionaires and billionaires exploited the 99% to corrupt my vision. I need you to set things right, Bernie. To continue my work.”
“Work? I’m not big on work,” yawped Bernie.
“Well it’s government work,” responded Jesus, “You show up for four hours every other day.”
“That’s slavery!” screamed Bernie.
“Please, Bernie,” begged Jesus Christ, “America needs you. You’re the only one who can save it.”
Just then, Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. appeared from behind a bush and said, “Please do as he says Bernie. Go into politics. You’re the only one who can continue our work. Your work, really. I’ve just been the face of the civil rights movement—you’re the one who deserves all the credit.”
“Fine,” yelled Bernie, “But only if I can launder campaign money back to my family and close friends.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” winked Jesus as he disappeared into a puff of smoke.
Just then, all of the birds in the kingdom gently descended upon Young Bernie Sanders and carried him to the Legislature where he was immediately appointed Mayor of Burlington, beginning his amazing political career.
The rest is history.