"And another thing," Hubert Price said, staring into the camera with a well-practiced expression of righteous indignation. "If you want to come into this country, you need to do it legally, that's what these snowflake liberals don't understand. We love immigrants in this country… legal immigrants. The law is the most sacred thing there is, and it must be upheld at all cost. That's what this administration understands."

Herbert then clicked the space bar on his laptop, ending the livestream. His basement, which had been converted into a studio for his biweekly broadcast, was completely soundproof. As Herbert closed his laptop and began to shut off the lights that moments ago shone brightly on his makeup-covered face, the room didn't feel dead silent to him. To Herbert, the cheers of the hundreds of thousands of people listening to his broadcast echoed in his ears. Herbert had worked for Fox News until six months ago when they let him go because he was speaking the truth too much on air, and also got in the habit of accidentally brushing against the breasts of young blond interns a little too frequently.

As he shut his basement door, he took a moment to appreciate all he had accomplished. In the six months since he had been let go, he had a studio built inside his home and amassed enough listeners to surpass his salary at Fox threefold. He didn't need them, he thought, smiling to himself, as he walked into the kitchen to pour himself a celebratory glass of scotch. He never really liked scotch, but he had surmised it was what serious men drank by watching Mad Men. It also paired well with the painkillers that he would pop intermittently off camera.

Painkillers solved a massive problem in Hubert's life. Hubert, above all else, hated crime, but unfortunately, he also hated being sober. Alcohol only did so much to fill Huber's desire for freedom from his senses, and that's when he found painkillers. They were prescribed to him by a doctor, making them safe and healthy, even though the doctor would write the prescription to Hubert without asking him any questions about his health.

Now, Hubert was able to become as intoxicated as possible, without resorting to the lowlife narcotics of common street thugs. Hubert would often drive his jeep through downtown and see junkies who lived in tents, while thinking to himself, "Look at them, they not good like me. I'm good, good me."

His thoughts were jumbled because every time he would drive through downtown, he had taken enough painkillers to treat an NFL team for a full season.

Tonight, Hubert drank more than usual. He had a date with a woman who messaged him on Twitter. He took a long time discerning whether this was a real woman or another catfish. He had been tricked before, but it seemed like she was the real deal. She was blond, conservative, and didn't seem to have any children. If there was one thing Hubert hated more than abortion, it was women with children.

He tried to grab his keys off the counter, but they slipped out of his fingers and dropped to the ground. He was unable to find the coordination to pick them up on his first two attempts, stumbling and reaching for the counter so he didn't fall to the ground. 'Wow' he thought to himself, 'I'm a little tipsy, I better play it safe tonight'. He grabbed a Red Bull out of his massive fridge and headed to his jeep.

On the way to the young woman's house, he decided to engage in one of his favorite activities. He opened YouTube at a red light and played back his live stream from an hour before. His voice rang in his ear like a stranger's, and he did his best to remember what he had said, but most of it was a surprise to him. He had two college students write most of his monologues now. He skipped to the end of the broadcast, when he had a rare moment of speaking off the top of his head.

"Legal immigrants," he repeated to himself, speaking along to his own voice. He squinted to focus on his own words, and his grip on the steering wheel loosened. Suddenly, his senses slipped away. He was only vaguely aware of the abrupt jostling of his body, and the impact of his car skidding off the road and into a telephone pole. He began to regain consciousness when he felt a strong grip under his arm pits. Two paramedics dragged him from the wreckage.

"What happened?" He managed, as a paramedic used a bright flashlight to inspect his eyes.

"You were in a car accident, but it doesn't look like you're badly injured. There is a police officer here and he's going to ask you a few questions, ok?"

His vision was still blurred, but he saw a large, corpulent figure wandering in front of him. He had spent much of his time as a broadcaster praising police bravery, so there was a chance this officer might know who he is and let him go with a warning.

One time, Hubert was caught in a sting operation soliciting a sex worker. He maintained that he was following the woman back to her apartment to give her a stern talking to about her life choices and the virtue of Judeo-Christian values. When the arresting officer recognized Hubert, his story was accepted and the charges were dropped in exchange for a signed book and a free premium membership to his Patreon.

When Hubert saw the breathalyzer, he realized this wasn't going to be so easy.

"Blow into this, please." The officer said matter-of-factly.

"Well, I believe I'm in my rights to refuse a breathalyzer." He said in his snarky broadcasting voice. The officer shook his head solemnly before taking out his handcuffs.

“The Supreme Court just waived that right,” The officer said, "you're coming with me.”

"Hey!" Hubert screamed, "What are you doing, you can't arrest me!" But it was no use.

Two more officers flanked him and wrenched his arms behind his back. The suddenness of their handling of him sent a jolt of pain through his arm, causing him to yelp and spasm.

"He’s resisting!" One of the officers yelled.

"I'm not! I'm not! I would never resist. I hate resisting!" He protested, as he was carried into the back of a cruiser, and the door slammed behind him.

He was left sitting in the interrogation room for over an hour before his lawyer showed up. That lawyer was Ralph Murrow, arguably the greatest lawyer in the country. He was in constant demand. In one high-profile case, Ralph defended Hubert when he said, on air, that people should "Kill Bernie Sanders" Ralph argued that the word “kill” is subjective, and the case was thrown out.

Finally, the door to the interrogation room creaked open, and Ralph slid through. He was a thin, balding man who wore thick glasses which were secretly non-prescription.

"Ralph, sorry for the late call." Hubert said, reaching to shake Ralph’s hand before remembering his hands were cuffed to the desk.

"It's ok, how are you holding up?" Ralph replied, taking the seat next to him.

"Good now that you're here. I think it would look bad if we went after the cops for police brutality, so I think we should just try and get this whole thing thrown out."

Ralph sighed, "It’s not going to be that easy, I'm assuming you haven't heard the new addendum to the drunk driving laws?"

Hubert shook his head no, and Ralph explained that evangelical lobbies, which were pushing for a total ban on drugs and alcohol, had convinced the administration to levy harsher punishments against drunk driving. When he finally got around to saying what that penalty was going to be, Hubert's mouth hung open in disbelief.

"The death penalty!?"

"Afraid so, they want to make an example of drunk drivers to deter future law breakers." Ralph stated.

"But...I follow the law! I love the law!" Hubert exclaimed.

"Well, law’s got you by the balls on this one, buddy."

“But,” Hubert stammered, “It doesn't make sense, the punishment doesn't match the crime.”

Ralph put his hand on Hubert's, which felt awkward because Hubert was in handcuffs.

“Listen, budd, I know it looks bad, but I think I can reduce your sentence to deportation.”

“Deportation!” Hubert screamed. “How can I get deported? I'm an American citizen.”

“But your great-great-grandfather wasn't, remember a year ago when you argued we should deport that college student with the sign that said "don't indiscriminately murder Palestinian Children” Well, the administration took that to heart. It’s called denaturalization. It's not great but I think it's a whole lot better than death.”

“So, they'd be sending me to…”

“That’s right, Scotland.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Hubert shouted, bashing his fists against the table.

“Calm down! Scotland isn't all bad, they have decent food, have you heard of Cullen Skink?”

“Just get me the death penalty.” Hubert said, with tears in his eyes.

He and Ralph spoke throughout the night, until an interrogator entered the room to join them. The questions were basic, following the new administration's interrogation protocol “Were you drinking tonight? How many drinks did you have? Do you accept Jesus Christ as your personal lord and savior? Do you agree to follow no other gods but the one true God?” And so on.

Finally, Hubert was led to his cell. He walked past a few police officers who were at their desks, filling out paperwork. One turned his head and quickly said, “Big fan.”

As the door slammed behind Hubert, he noticed that the officer was listening to his broadcast from earlier. The last thing he heard were his own words.

“The law is the most sacred thing there is, and it must be upheld at all cost. That's what this administration understands”

If you liked reading this, please like, share, comment, and consider joining the paid tier!

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit dandonohue.substack.com/subscribe