Sheep in Men's Clothing

A Rand Paul Adventure Story

By Seth Short


Part One: A Dream Deferred


A mile below the surface of the Earth in Bowling Green, Kentucky, a cell phone began to ring. As its screen lit up and the table beneath it rattled with vibration, the phone beckoned for attention in just the way it had been programmed - by playing an audio recording of the United States Bill of Rights.


"Amendment One," it began "Congress shall make no laws respecting an establishment..."


As the ringtone continued to play out, the phone's owner, Senator Rand Paul, sat nearby in his barber’s chair. Behind him his personal assistant and part time hair stylist Thomas was removing the rolling curlers from Rand's hair. "Aren't you going to answer that?" Thomas asked eagerly. "You know how I hate to be bothered during my weekly perm Thomas." Rand replied, "And besides, it is just getting to the good part." As he finished his thought the ring-tone continued: "Amendment two: a well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state..." As he listened to the amendment he moved his hand towards the inside of his left thigh, feeling relief as he fondled the small 9mm pistol which he always kept in a holster firmly strapped around his upper leg. As the phone continued to read off the amendments Rand drifted to sleep and began to dream as he usually did while he was getting his perm.



He was standing on a flipped over Hyundai Sonata, surrounded by a mob composed entirely of white males ranging in age from their early twenties to late seventies; many of them were dressed in early American colonial garb. Behind them were miles of ash and rubble - the city formerly known as the District of Columbia. In front of them laid the last bastion of oppression and tyranny: The White House.


The sound of shotguns and assault weaponry with extended magazines being cocked echoed through the crowd. In the distance different loudspeakers were simultaneously blasting Radiohead's OK Computer and 2112 by Rush.


A strong breeze blew and Rand felt his American flag cape sway in the wind. Bald eagles glided above him.


At his word the men quickly knocked down the fencing and charged the White House lawn. "A well-armed militia indeed." Rand said to himself. As he watched the collapse of the Government, a single tear rolled down his cheek.


"Finished." Thomas said as he removed the final curler, snapping Rand out of his dream, "You were having the dream again weren't you?" he asked. Rand didn't reply, he just turned his head and stared introspectively at the portrait Ronald Reagan that hung on the wall nearby; Ronald’s darling face was smiling back thoughtfully. The phone was half way through the ninth amendment when the ringing finally ended. A few seconds later he received a text message.





Part Two: There Must Be Something in the Water


"Rand, something terrible is happening." Senator Mitch McConnell urgently yelled as he picked up the phone. He had a shortness of breath and as he spoke his fleshy gizzard could be heard flapping between syllables. "There has been a mass outbreak of some kind up here in Louisville, and I have reason to believe that this is only the beginning. I have reason to believe -" "Slow down Mitch." Rand interrupted, "Now just what exactly are we talking about here? What are the symptoms of this... outbreak?" "Don't get any bright ideas doctor Paul. This isn't the kind of thing you can solve by prescribing it a thicker set of lenses." Mitch snidely remarked. "Well we will just have to see about that!" Rand defensively remarked. "Thomas and I are heading to Louisville now, you can fill us in when we arrive."


Rand Paul’s helicopter flew north towards Jefferson County - home of Mitch McConnell and current setting for an outbreak of unknown consequence. It was a hot and muggy summer afternoon and Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow as he helmed the choppers controls. Rand looked out of the side window at the rolling green topography of his beautiful kingdom and then thought about how much he hated Louisville. "What's on your mind?" Thomas asked. He could always tell when Rand was troubled. "You know that I despise going to Louisville Thomas, it is full of minorities and hippies who don’t appreciate me. I've always lost the vote in Jefferson County and it hurts my feelings because I have tried so hard and done so much for them." Rand said. As he ranted he began balling his hands into strong fists, but then he noticed the bracelet that he always wore around his right wrist. "WWJGD" it read - "What Would John Galt Do". Rand always noticed his bracelet at just the right moment and as he exhaled he felt calm and content. He grinned as he recited his favorite John Galt quote from memory: “No one’s happiness but my own is in my power to achieve or destroy.”


A short time later, the helicopter slowly descended onto the rooftop helipad of the large antebellum era McConnell estate. As they exited the copter, Mitch greeted them. "It is spreading through the water supply." he said, "It has spread through most of Jefferson county, but we believe it is curable. We have to act fast though." Rand wore a distressed look on his face as he asked "But what are the symptoms Mitch? You still haven't told me." "I think it's best you see for yourself." Mitch replied, "We have a subject down in the lab that we've been running some tests on. Follow me."


Rand and Thomas followed Mitch into an elevator destined for the lowest level of his compound. "This is the basement," Mitch gestured as they were stepping out of the elevator into a long corridor with glass windows on each side, "where we conduct our many various scientific experiments. Additionally, the basement is also home to my extensive amphibian habitat, which you will see on your right." Rand and Thomas peered through the glass. There was a large landscape partially covered in water. Freshwater turtles and frogs of every size, shape, and color were moseying aimlessly inside of their controlled home. "I've learned a lot from these animals." Mitch said, "It was them who initially convinced me to run for public office in 1984." Rand had no idea what McConnell was talking about, but nodded his head and smiled anyways. The glass windows on the opposite wall displayed a laboratory filled with men and women in lab coats surrounded by beakers and high-tech medical and scientific equipment. Mitch led the group into the lab.


"I have only the best working for me here." Mitch said as he led them through the lab, "I carefully inspect every resume myself. I never hire anyone who attended a public school. You can't trust those kids - they have been brainwashed!" Rand nodded in complete agreement. "Ah here we are." Mitch said, opening a door labeled Test Room 01. Inside they were greeted by a horrific scene. There was a man secured into a chair who was drooling profusely as he watched a television screen which was tuned to CNN. Along the man's exposed lower legs and lower arms were patches of fuzzy white hair. When the man in the chair saw them he opened his mouth to talk, but the only sound to exit his mouth was "Baaah! Baaaaah!"

"So it finally has happened, just as we predicted." Rand said. "The democrats have somehow begun turning the people into literal sheep." "Here at the lab we are calling them sheeple." Mitch added, "But your observation is precisely correct. It is obviously part of their scheme to convert the mass population into mindless and complacent voters who will endlessly re-elect liberals into office. We have acquired information that it is being spread through the city water supply - it is just a matter of time before the entire county is infected. We need to act fast, our studies suggest that after a span of twenty-four hours the symptoms may be irreversible." “And if the entire voting population has been turned into sheeple, kiss the Grand Old Party Goodbye.” Rand said. “That’s right,” McConnell confirmed, “I’m up for re-election later this year and I sure as hell don’t plan on returning to work in the private sector.”

Rand quickly shot a concerned look at Mitch. "You haven't become infected yourself have you?" he asked. Mitch quickly responded: "Of course not. I have Fiji water shipped to the property by the truckload every week. My water lines have been completely disconnected from the city for decades. Everyone knows that city water contains dangerous chemicals such as fluoride." "Of course." Rand said relieved, "I have the same setup for my underground bunker, but you understand that I had to ask just to be sure that you were still one of us." Mitch replied “Don’t worry Rand, I’m still as sharp as ever, and I even have a plan! Watch this.” He reached to the table nearby and grabbed a can of RC cola which he proceeded to snap open and pour onto the sheep-man’s face. As the cold and sticky beverage covered the man’s body he began screaming and convulsing wildly, passing out shortly afterwards. “I was always more of a Coca-Cola man as well.” Thomas joked in an attempt to break the tension, but Mitch did not laugh. “What the hell just happened there?” Rand yelled expectantly. “It is rather elementary Rand,” Mitch said, “This man has just been cured of his ailments. I will explain it all.”

Nearby on a table were several test tube vials full of liquids varying in color and consistency. Mitch continued, “When we tested the tap water from the city supply, we found an uncommon chemical that was completely foreign to us. We isolated it and extracted it from the water and then ran some tests.” We found out two important facts: first, that it is the product of two genetically modified organic compounds, and second that it can be completely broken down within the human body by one simple thing - high fructose corn syrup.” “It all makes so much sense now.” Rand said, as dots began to connect themselves within his brain. “Dems fought to rid the country of GMO’s because they had discovered the true power of genetic foods and wanted to keep it all to themselves. Then they rolled out all of those bogus healthy diet initiatives as a means to eliminate the only threat to their plan - healthy and all natural high fructose corn syrup.” “Indeed my young Senator,” Mitch proudly admitted, “Now, about that plan - we already know how to counteract the chemical, just leave that up to me. What I need you and Thomas to do is to get inside the downtown pumping station. There are multiple sources that a water distribution facility that can pull from, and my guess is that whoever is behind this has switched the pump to pull from some hidden aquifer or reservoir that is loaded with this poisoned water. You two need to get in there and switch the source location back to the Ohio River. Got it? Good.”

Part Three: The Shepherds of Men


Half an hour later, an 18-wheeler hauling 7,000 gallons of concentrated high fructose corn syrup barreled north through the streets of downtown Louisville with no regard for motor or pedestrian traffic. “Get on the sidewalk and get a job tree hugger!” Mitch angrily yelled from behind the wheel as he nearly side-swiped a bicyclist. Chaos and a thick cloud of exhaust was left in his wake, but it was all small potatoes compared to the looming problem at hand. As the truck accelerated up 4th Street Rand and Thomas gazed out of the passenger window into the bars and restaurants. “It looks like it has already hit here too.” Rand said as he saw the glazed over eyes and drunken expressions on a group of college aged boys who were walking on all fours outside of the T.G.I. Fridays. “Probably,” Mitch said “But I wouldn’t be so sure. The 4th Street crowd commonly acts this way. Quit being distracted and get ready, we are quickly approaching the river. Set the timer for 90 seconds and activate it.” “Are you sure you want to do this?” Asked Rand. “It is the only way.” Mitch responded “As long as you two do your part, we will all be fine.” Rand did as he was instructed and activated the timer which was attached to a detonator and a small bundle of explosives, then placed it on the dashboard. The truck was cruising at 60 miles per hour now and was just a few blocks away from the Ohio River. “See you on the other side.” Rand said to Mitch as him and Thomas began to embrace each other tightly. “Godspeed.” Mitch replied to them both. At that moment Rand activated the ejector seat that shot himself and Thomas through the open roof of the cabin. With deployed parachutes, they floated in the direction of the Louisville Municipal Pumping station and watched the semi-truck continue at full speed into the distance. “Let’s hurry.” Rand said, “We haven’t much time.”

In his rear-view mirror McConnell saw the tiny silhouettes of Rand and Thomas land and start into a quick sprint. “You can do this Mitch.” He thought to himself, “Just remember your training.” The semi-truck tanker of high fructose corn syrup was now just feet away from the Ohio River. As it the truck passed over the bank, Mitch took in a deep breath, completely filling his neck pouch with oxygen, just as the frogs had taught him years ago; he could hold his breath for twenty minutes if he needed to.  He grasped the explosives tightly in his hand and checked the clock, it was still counting down: 29, 28, 27…”

As the truck went airborne and crashed through the surface of the water, Mitch remained totally still. When the cab was completely submerged he opened the door and swam around to the rear end sinking tanker. He placed the detonator on the hull’s weak spot and again saw the time counting down: 11, 10, 9… With the explosive secured, he quickly sprawled his limbs out straight in every direction and began flapping them backwards in unison, a technique he learned by watching the Sea Turtles in his aquarium. Many swimmers through history had attempted to emulate the swimming style of the Sea Turtle but none had ever succeeded - none except for Mitch McConnell, because to merely swim like a turtle wasn’t enough, you had to become the turtle both mentally and physically. “They would proud if they could see me now.” Mitch thought to himself as he effortlessly glided to the surface. When he pulled himself onto the dry bank, there was bright flash and a large explosion at the bed of the river - his part of the plan had gone off without a hitch. He watched with glee as the Ohio became filled with the sweet nectar of freedom. “The water supply will once again be safe, and more delicious than ever.” He thought to himself, “I hope Rand and Thomas find that switch.”

Meanwhile, Rand and Thomas were running towards the front door of the pumping station, which was had oddly been left cracked open. “Whoever is behind this whole thing must be inside right now.” Rand cautioned, “Keep your wits about you.” Thomas nodded as he slowly pushed the door open. “Ew!” he yelled and coughed as the revolting scent from within hit him, “It smells like a rotting compost pile. It must be the organic product that is being used for the mind control passing through the system.” Rand agreed, as he pulled his shirt over his nose to percolate the stench. “Follow the scent Thomas; it will lead us right to them.” Thomas gagged and coughed as he led the way towards the top floor of the building. The aroma which reeked of kale and pickled cabbage became thicker and thicker with each step, until finally they reached the door of the control room. Inside they could hear a male and female voice. “I am going in alone.” Rand said to Thomas, placing a confident hand on his companion's shoulder. “By now they must be expecting us; you go around and find a way to create a distraction. I’ll take care of the rest.” Thomas nodded.

Inside of the room the masterminds of the dastardly plot stood unfazed as Rand entered. Behind them were the controls that Rand needed to reach. “Why am I not surprised to see you two here.” Rand said, acknowledging the villains, “Secretary of State Alison Lundergan Grimes and Attorney General Jack Conway.” “Rand, so nice to see you again,” Jack started condescendingly, “We were wondering how long it would take you to show up. Unfortunately it looks like you are too late. By midnight all of Jefferson County will be under our control. This time next week will have all of Kentucky obeying our every command.” “Are you still upset that I beat you in the Senate race?” Rand said, “The people have spoken Jack, and they chose me to represent them and this state.” “The people are feeble minded and ignorant.” Jack replied, “They don’t know what is good for them. Alison and I do, and when those people speak again this November they will choose her unanimously. My time as Attorney General will be over soon. You better cherish these next two years as Senator, because I assure you, they will be your last.” “That’s right.” Allison continued, “This red state will be blue in a matter of days, and within a few years the democrats will have complete control of the commonwealth. Just imagine the progress that we can create without the partisan bickering of the republicans - a gunless utopia with strict environmental laws and heavy regulation on big businesses.” “Not to mention high taxes!” Jack butted in prompting rabid laughter between him and Alison. Just the thought of living in such a hellhole made Rand’s stomach churn. Their laughter quickly died down and Alison reached behind her to grab something – it was a .223 Bushmaster XM15-E2S semiautomatic rifle – Rand recognized it immediately. “Do you know what this is Rand?” Alison asked threateningly. “Of course I do,” Rand answered, “It is the same model rifle that was photo-shopped into those pictures from the Sandy Hook hoax.” Alison was noticeably impressed. “You clearly realize the power of these guns Rand, so do we; that is why we have to stage these mass shootings every couple of months, So we can get the guns out of the citizens’ hands and into ours. We don’t want any of you tea-partiers getting brave and staging some sort of coup against the government.” “Now sit down.” Jack said sternly, “You still have a lot of time left in the Senate, and Alison and I just want to make sure you are going to cooperate with us through that time.” Alison pointed the Bushmaster at Rand, and he sat compliantly. Jack walked to a nearby shelf and popped the top off of a large jug that was labeled with skull and crossbones. Rand knew exactly what it was; they planned to turn him into a sheep-man who would obey their every order. His mind turned to gun strapped to his leg, but the thought of reaching into his pants to grab it while another man watched made him terribly uncomfortable. Like he did with most democrats – Rand reasonably assumed that Jack was a homosexual deviant. “What if when I reach towards my groin he gets turned on and tries to start making out with me?” Rand worried to himself as he realized what a major oversight he had made when deciding on his pistol holsters location. “I hope Thomas makes that distraction soon.”

Jack approached Rand and placed the jug on the table in the middle of the room. “Open up wide.” He said with a gleeful chuckle. Just then, Alison’s phone began to ring. “It’s from an unknown number Jack, D.C. area code.” “Answer it.” Conway responded, “We have time.” Alison answered call and put it on speaker-phone so that Jack could listen in. “Hello Mrs. Grimes.” A voice bellowed from the phone, “This is your supreme dictator, the anointed second coming of the lord, his infallible holiness, Barack Obama speaking.” Jack and Alison’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I heard about the scheme you hatched up with Mr. Conway.” Obama’s voice continued, “I’m very impressed. First thing tomorrow morning you two are flying to the White House and we are taking this thing national – maybe even worldwide. The age of small government,” Obama said enthusiastically as he paused for dramatic effect, “is over!” With mindless elation Jack and Alison locked in a euphoric embrace. “Thomas, you clever bastard.” Rand thought, as he realized that the call was merely a ruse. He let not a second go to waste - as they were distracted and had their guard down, Rand swiftly grabbed the jug and splashed the chemical solution all over the jubilant democrats. Jack Conway and Alison Lundergan Grimes screamed and writhed as they fell to the floor in agony. The effects of the chemical solution quickly began to take effect. With their incapacitation Rand quickly leaped over their sprawling bodies and flipped the switch, the pump station was once again pulling water from the Ohio River, which was now highly saturated with precious high fructose corn syrup.

Rand had helped save the day, and he knew it. While facing north-east in the direction of the Nation’s original capital city: Philadelphia, he placed his right hand over his heart and saluted with his left as he always did after a day of work well done. Moments later Thomas and Mitch rushed into the room. “We did it!” Rand said, giving Thomas a firm pat on the ass, “That was a great distraction.” “It is a miracle what you can do with smartphone apps these days.” Thomas said, blushing. “What are we going to do about these two?” Mitch said pointing to the two incapacitated sheeple formerly known as Grimes and Conway. The two liberals were lying on the floor drooling and muttering gibberish about social equality. Small white patches of wool-ish hair were sprouting from their skin in the spots that had been drenched more heavily by the chemicals. “We will cure them.” Rand said, to obvious shock of both Thomas and Mitch. He continued “Because we are better than them. We’ve foiled them before and we will again if we must. Even though this might be a difficult and thankless a job from time to time, we must always do the right thing in the face of adversity, even if that is having pity on your mortal enemy. Even if the people of this city have ignored us in previous elections, we still must do what is right. That is what the founding fathers would have wanted – true democracy.” Rand was glowing with a holy righteousness as he spoke. Mitch responded hesitantly “I don’t like this. I would love let them wallow in their filth, but perhaps forgiveness is what’s best. Thus saith the lord.” In that moment Thomas had an idea. “I’ll be back, in just a moment.” he yelled as he darted out door. He ran to the basement and got a diet Mr. Pibb from the break room soda machine and ran it back upstairs. “Thomas you think of everything!” Rand endearingly said as they all laughed amusingly, “You do the honors.” With that, Thomas opened the bottle and began pouring the fizzy beverage all over Alison and Jack, making sure to cover them completely. After a few minutes, they returned to normal, perfectly cured. “So you figured it out.” Jack said, disoriented and sticky with sugar, “And you foiled our plan. I’m betting that wasn’t Obama on the phone either.” “That’s right.” Rand said, “You were however right about one thing though. I do only have two more years in the Senate, because in 2016
I’m gonna be the president of this country!” Exhausted and overwrought with grief, Alison and Jack collapsed back onto the ground while the trio of conservative freedom fighters cheered and high-fived one another. “We’re letting you off with a warning this time.” Mitch said, “Don’t let there be a next time.” With that being said, the three of them left the pumping station with a spring in their steps.

On the roof of the McConnell estate Rand and Mitch shook hands with one another. “It’s been good working with you.” Rand said to Mitch, “Call me again if you ever need anything.” “And the same to you.” Mitch warmly replied. Thomas and Rand hopped into helicopter and took off, heading back south towards Bowling Green. “You know Thomas, we did a good thing today. It’s got me thinking - when I originally became a politician with a secret underground bunker, I had just three goals: to live on a plot where I didn’t have to pay property taxes, didn’t have to put up with any neighbors, and didn’t have to follow any invasive ordinances or building codes, but now I have a different outlook, we can do more. The people of this state may very well be sheep, but they are my sheep and I must protect them from the dangers of big government. I am Randall Howard Paul, son of three time presidential candidate Ronald Ernest Paul. I am President of the National Board of Ophthalmology and I am the Junior Senator of the Commonwealth of Kentucky. One day I will be the leader of the free world, but for now I must focus on my responsibilities here, and I will tend to my flock fearlessly, because I am Rand Paul: shepherd of man.”

The End?