Indie Rock the Vote

I got my mail-in ballot in the mail. I was expecting it by male, but a female package carrier slid it in my slot. Actually she jammed it in my slot with a door breaker-intoer that a S.W.A.T. team uses after she lined the slot with butter (and garlic, mmm). I picked it up off the floor, pulled a baguette out of my back pocket that I magically enhanced to hold ridiculously large items in and commenced in putting these two edible items together and devoured the deliciously wholesome and compelling snack. After I woke up from my snack nap on the doorway floor I licked the butter residue off and opened the envelope.
I pulled the ballot out of the envelope like it was one of those never-ending handkerchiefs out of the sleeve trick or the rare and elusive never-ending toilet paper roll out of the crotch zipper trick. Only this time it was the government that was the magician straying from their normal magic trick of taking the quarter from behind the ears without handing it to us at the end of the trick.
I cut off the paper with the machete I keep in my umbrella stand shaped like an umbrella. I didn’t have the patients to wait for it to pull all the way out, so I guess I won’t be voting for those judges nobody even knows anything about except for the felons in jail, on parole or probation who can’t vote for or against them anyway. I’m sure if they could vote they wouldn’t hold any grudges.
Before I got started on my ballot I thought I should make dinner so I shot the wild turkey that was in my garage, but then glass just shattered everywhere and I realized I shot the wrong wild turkey and licked my garage floor. I tackled the other wild turkey and ripped it’s head off, boiled its feathers off and dumped them on my roommate, degutted the turkey, stuffed it and slid it in the oven.
I grabbed my pencil, blue and black pen and stuck them in my right foot toes. I can write fast with my toes and I have more control with them if I have three writing utensils in-between. I worked hard into the night occasionally opening the oven door with my left foot to let the heat out and see if it was still cooking. My right hand held the grey booklet guide to all the amendments as my left hand held me up in my one armed handstand on top of my chair.
When I finished cooking my turkey I ate it and dumped the bones in the envelope with my ballot. I sealed the envelope with a tiny slop of turkey skin and my family crest stamp of large drunk Germans stuffing as many bratwursts in their mouths as possible.