He went home and proceeded to get profoundly drunk. It was three in the morning and he was on his sixth glass of bourbon when there was a knock at the door. He stumbled over to rip it open and glare drunkenly at the person on the other side, who happened to be the councilor for the seventh district who was holding a pair of bouquets in her arms and giving him a nervous smile.

“Idiots don’t generally get flowers.” He slurred the words at her and tried to remember her name. ...