Hunting Legislators

Actual Story per KTVB, 01/13/09:
Legislators have been getting hit by cars so frequently of late, that the speed limit around the Capitol Building in Boise, Idaho is being lowered in order to protect lawmakers, several of whom have been hit crossing the street in front of the Capitol, by speeding motorists.
Not so actual story, per my sick and overactive imagination who has since had its TV privileges temporarily suspended (dateline, unknown):
“Hey everybody, look! I caught me a good one this time!” Family, friends, and neighbors gather around to admire the congressman strapped to the bed of a pickup.
“That’s awesome, Bill! You got yourself a 21-pointer, there for sure.”
“Twenty-one pointer? Wassat?” asks the little neighbor, who has ridden up on her tricycle to find out what all the fuss is about.
“Oh, that someone who has been serving in the legislature for 21 years, making laws and stuff, honey.” Whispers her father, who has chased her for blocks; he told his wife he was “concerned about traffic” and other safety matters, what with their daughter out navigating the world alone on that “damn tricycle.” His wife buying none of his story, guessing that someone in the neighborhood had brought down another congressman or woman and figured she’d leave him to chase the story, and their daughter.
“Hey, I thought those guys had a thing for term limits or something,” chimes in a high school boy, thinking he has so much to teach the adults, instead of realizing he may still have so much yet to learn.
“Well, yeah,” responds one of the onlookers, sneaking the boy a beer from a nearby cooler. “They all want term limits, til they get into office. Then they end up voting themselves pay raises instead, don’t ya, big guy?” At this, he turns and stares into the eyes of the panicking man tied to the bed of the pickup, and winks at him, walking away, still muttering about term limits.
“What’s going to happen to me?” Will you let me go now?” The 21-pointer in the truck almost shrieks as he asks, “What are you going to do?”
“Shhhh” a calm voice can just be heard, over the shouts of the growing crowd in the neighborhood, some yelling about term limits, some drunken fools yelling “Kill, kill.” “No, we aren’t going to kill you.” The man who had brought him down in the first place is the owner of the calm, quiet voice.
“But, we aren’t going to exactly let you off the hook, either. You promised something to these people here.” He holds his beer bottle in his hand, as he points first to himself, and then to the still gathering, but now quieter crowd. “We are the people of your district, sir. Are you ready to listen to us now?” Of course, the 21-pointer nods his head eagerly, and only flinches a little as the hunting knives are unsheathed, and cut him loose.
The rest of the evening is spent with the legislator and the people of his district sharing beers, BBQ, and ideas about far more than just term limits, but how to get the congressmen and women back out to neighborhoods to share ideas with the people that elected them, without having to knock them down and out to do it. The wee hours of the morning give rise not just to the sun, but to the 21-pointer’s rededication to the ties he knew he had to his red necked friends and neighbors, and had tried to forget along the way to social climbing and fundraising.
A little sore, and a lot hung over in the morning, it’s worth the experience in the long run. He’s the only congressman, come election season, not to run for re-election, but he’s also the only one who had enough money and support to do it if he’d wanted. But when he throws his support behind another nominee, the man wins by a landslide; even though he had once run over a congressman outside the Capitol Building.