Candidate for the office of mayor, Will Meinen, caused a stir recently by heckling minors at a local family entertainment center. The self-proclaimed ‘Mayor of the Future,’ arrived at the popular host of children’s parties on Saturday as doors were opening. After eating several plates of reheated food from the buffet, the 30-year-old aspiring politician commandeered the air hockey table from 5-year-old twins Steve and Stephen.

“The boys sulked over to our table and said they were done playing,” explained Alice Becker, mother of the twins. “I asked who won and they said ‘some guy wearing a tie like daddy wears but with pink on it told us to get bent.’ I looked over my shoulder and a man with trendy glasses was yelling ‘weak sauce!’ at a little boy.”

Ally, who was initially extremely excited to be spending her sixth birthday in a big party, sat in tears as she and her parents watched Mr. Meinen hold court at the air hockey table for more than two hours.

“He insisted you put quarters on the ledge to hold your place in line, like it was a pool table at a bar,” said Ally’s dad, Ron Pershing. “You think he’d take it easy on the kids but instead played like his life depended on it. The closest he got to losing was the result of a Herculean effort by Ally’s older brother Aden. Maybe ‘Davidian’ would be more accurate. What an asshole. A very well-dressed asshole.”

The ire of management was finally raised when Meinen moved from air hockey to “Dance, Dance Revolution,” where his taunting became more abusive and vulgar.

“I ignored parent complaints about Mr. Meinen because, well, he looked like someone with a Master’s degree in Library Sciences who longed to play Quidditch— the flying kind,” said manager Doug Steinhoff. “I just couldn’t imagine him being that much of a threat. But after witnessing him sweat through his blazer at the Revolution machine and then tell a cute kid with pigtails that she ‘danced like a girl who couldn’t sell cookies’ I had to confront the guy.”

Not all of the staff was offended by Meinen’s behavior. Several expressed jealousy and vicarious satisfaction.

“It was awesome watching that guy with the pocket square put kids in their place,” said teenage employee Mike Brandice who works the prize counter. “Snot-nosed little brats. They run around screaming at the top of their lungs with cake frosting smeared on their grubby little faces like they own the place. My favorite was when he beat a kid at “Mortal Combat” and told him that the only reason he was conceived was because his mom mixed Chardonnay with her ludes.”

When Steinhoff confronted Mr. Meinen to see if he had been drinking alcohol, the young political upstart responded that he had probably been poisoned by the poor excuse for food, but otherwise felt grand. He was then asked to leave the premises without further delay.

Mr. Meinen, who had a stuffed panda bear under his arm and was wearing over-sized sunglasses from the prize counter, complied, but not before informing everyone in the establishment that they were a bunch of drones, softened by the nanny state. 

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