Since his 1991 defeat of incumbent Richard Hackett and School Superintendent Willie Herenton, Prince Mongo has been a universally beloved figure in the city, having been elected to six consecutive terms with little opposition. After his inauguration ceremony at the apex of the newly christened Memphis Pyramid, Mongo set to work on his ambitious agenda, the first item of which was to demolish the newly christened Memphis Pyramid in a spectacular display of pyrotechnics and executive initiative. Work crews began construction on the city’s now iconic Upside Down Pyramid the very same day.
Once he had completed the month-long process of consolidating city and county government, the Mayor made good on a key campaign promise, rounding up newly redundant elected officials and flushing them down a novelty toilet constructed for the occasion. Eyewitnesses recall a surprisingly buoyant Mayor Bill Morris; a photo of his bewildered face swirling to the bottom of the bowl graced the cover of Time that month.
From the miles of roller coaster tracks that have replaced city streets, to the weekly garbage delivery, every facet of city life has been touched by Mongo’s visionary hand. City employees dressed in fiberglass insulation trundle down the sidewalks pushing enormous nitrous oxide foggers, elementary schools never want for shaving cream, and the city’s reputation as the unicorn capital of the world grows with every passing year.
It was an unseasonably cold day when the Memphis Press-Scimitar announced that the supreme Monarch of Zambodia was gravely ill, and that the exiled Mongo would at last be required to ascend to the throne. Rumors swirled about his abdication, but after conferring with his long-time advisor and ostrich Duke of Headinburrow, Mayor Mongo acquiesced in order to avoid an interplanetary war.
As the soon-to-be King Mongo processed down Beale Street in sleigh pulled by innumerable dachshunds, the streets overflowed with sorrowful tears, and also unattended sewage. His procession picked up speed as it neared the river, and at the banks he turned to blow kisses to the assembled masses. The crowds cheered with an unquenchable madness as his entire conveyance tumbled end over end into the Mississippi River and disappeared from view. Many reported seeing him ascend into a spacecraft shortly thereafter, but most were content with the spectacle of their Mayor’s final farewell, and departed to wait for their roller coaster home.
Robert Callahan is a Wiseguy and regular contributor to Fly on the Wall.