“And together, we will reignite the promise of America. Thank you.”

Ted Cruz gave a short nod of the head, stepped down from his podium, and began his signature, lumbered shuffle backstage. Tens of mildly enthused people applauded upon his exit.

“You did your best, Teddy,” his wife Heidi stage-whispered, pulling him into an awkward, icy embrace. “Wasn’t Daddy good, girls?”

“Yes,” said Caroline and Catherine as they nodded in unison. They were Ted’s daughters, and their conditioning was progressing nicely.

“Well, we should grab some lunch,” Heidi said matter-of-factly. “There’s an Olive Garden around the corner. I know you like the breadsticks. Or—”

“What about some…birdseed?”

“BIG BIRD!” Caroline and Catherine exclaimed, running towards the bright, primrose-yellow bird that had appeared in the doorway.

“Look who it is!” said Ted, looking Bird Bird up and down. There he was – all eight feet and two inches of him. When the girls were done hugging the bird, Ted stepped in for his own embrace. After counting to five, he quickly let go. Five seconds – that was the appropriate timing for a hug between friends, he and Big Bird had decided. Ted was running for president now. He was under constant, vigilant surveillance, and every moment mattered.

“Hello Big Bird,” Heidi said curtly, pulling him into a stiff, one-armed hug. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, Ted noticed. They were flat and lifeless as ever. Could she know? Was it possible? Ted had always had his own suspicions about his wife’s fidelity – after all, she was far too pretty for his weak-chinned horribleness. But what if she suspected him? He’d taken every precaution, but what if that wasn’t enough?

“Daddy’s going to talk to Big Bird alone for a minute,” Ted told Caroline and Catherine. He leaned in to Heidi. “Want to bring them over to Olive Garden? I’ll meet you in a little bit.”

“Let’s go, girls,” Heidi said, leading the children towards the door. The girls waved goodbye as their mother pulled them away. In a moment, they were gone. Ted sighed and looked at Big Bird, a pained look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Bird Bird asked. “I was in the neighborhood and heard you were speaking, I just thought I’d drop by. You don’t think Heidi knows, do you? There’s no way—”

“We shouldn’t do this here,” Ted said, glancing sideways at the various campaign officials puttering around the backstage area. “We need to find somewhere more private.”

Ted shuffled out the door into the hallway, Big Bird following close behind. After walking for a bit, they turned a corner and came upon a small broom closet. “This is good,” Ted said. Looking both ways and seeing no one, he and Big Bird snuck inside, locking the door behind them.

Inside the closet, it was close quarters. Ted and Big Bird stood facing each other with their backs to the wall, almost touching. Big bird reached his wing out, but Ted slapped it down.

“We shouldn’t,” Ted started. “I mean, we can’t. We can’t keep meeting like this.”

“Why not?” said Big Bird. “No one in their right mind would suspect a thing. And life’s short, Ted. Too short. Aren’t you happy? Don’t I make you happy, Ted?” He leaned in, brushing his long yellow beak against Ted’s warm cheek.

Ted blushed. “Of course,” he whispered. “Of course you make me happy. But I’m running for the Republican nomination. What would happen if this got out? I’m running on an anti-gay platform, for god’s sake. What would my constituents do if they found out I was—” Ted paused, lowering his voice to a whisper, “—fucking a male bird?”

“Is that all this is to you?!” Big Bird said angrily, raising his voice. “Fucking? Because I think it’s something else. I think we’re a man and bird in love, goddamnit. We’re in goddamn love.”

Ted’s heart skipped a beat. A man and bird – in love? Was Big Bird really a giant anthropomorphic bird, as he claimed to be, or just a man in a bird costume? Ted still wasn’t sure.

“You love me?” Ted said. “You’ve never said that before.”

“Of course I do,” Big Bird sighed. “Nobody else could ever make me feel this way. I love you, Ted.”

“I love you too,” Ted whispered, his Cuban blood bubbling with passion. “I love you too.”

Big Bird grabbed Ted by his shirt collar, pulling him into a kiss. Bird Bird’s lips were nonexistent, and his beak was sharp and damp. They broke apart. Bird Bird began kissing his way down Ted’s neck, tickling it with his tongue. Ted liked this. Heidi never did this anymore.

Ted reached his hand behind Big Bird’s neck, and felt something small and metallic. “What is this, a zipper?” Ted asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Big Bird said. They kissed again, deeper than they ever had before. At last, they pulled apart.

“Listen,” Big Bird said. “I know it’s your career on the line. Hell, it’s your whole life. So just say the word, and we’ll stop. Tell me you never want to see me again. I can take it.”

“I don’t want that,” Ted breathed. “I’ve never wanted that.” He reached up and caressed Big Bird’s yellow, stupid face. Big Bird shuddered.

“Are you sure?” Big Bird asked softly.

“I’m sure,” Ted replied.

“I love you, Ted,” Big Bird said.

“Call me by my birth name,” Ted replied.

Big Bird leaned in. “Rafael,” he whispered. “Rafael Edward Cruz.”

Then they had sex, and it was gross. Obviously.