Boo!

It is time once again, goblins and ghouls, to offer up some frightening political horror stories for both sides of the aisle. As in years past, we have brewed up a witches' cauldron of fearful spine-tingling tales to scare the pants right off you, no matter where you dwell on the political spectrum.

And, as promised, there will be pumpkins! We have carved two jack o'lanterns to fit each chilling tale, although we do admit that the second one was rather hard to think up an actual image for (we went with California, although upon reflection maybe we should have carved a train... or a snarling dog's face...).

As I've stated for the past few years, these days it is actually kind of hard to dream up scenarios that are both more frightening and more outlandish than what we now see on a regular basis from Washington D.C. But we did our best, so please sit back, ignore the sound of chains clanking and banshees screaming, and peruse this year's terrible tales.

Republican Nightmare -- The Curse

Speaker of the House Mike Johnson makes it through his first few weeks mainly by keeping his caucus happy by passing all sorts of far-right bills (that will go nowhere in the Senate). But then the budget deadline nears.

Johnson passes a continuing resolution to keep the government open until January, however to please his hardliners (and himself) he adds in a clause that will outlaw all gay people. Not gay sexual practices, mind you, but just being gay... or bisexual, or trans, or queer. It would become a federal crime punishable by five years in prison to even have non-heterosexual thoughts. Or to possess any sort of rainbow flag, for good measure. He announces his measure will come up for a vote as the very first order of business the following day.

Late that night (around midnight), unseen by any except a lone Capitol Hill policeman, a withered crone dressed in black holds a dark ritual on the Capitol steps. She mumbles various incantations and at the climax of her rite ominously points her crooked finger at the building, while making a hammering motion with her other hand. Satisfied, she then picks up her candles, incense, herbs and various potions, and disappears into the night.

The next day, Democrats howl in reaction to Johnson's bill, as it comfortably passes with only Republican votes. Centrist Republicans in swing districts all vote for it, explaining: "Don't worry, it's just a 'messaging' bill to make Johnson happy... they'll fix it in the Senate...."

Chuck Schumer wastes no time in doing so, stripping out the obnoxious and offensive clause, and then the Senate passes a clean supplemental to keep the government open. Schumer sends it back to the House.

Johnson refuses to put the Senate bill on the House floor for a vote. The centrists in his own party beg him to, but he states: "That was a good bill we passed and it will be the only budget bill we pass, period. If the Senate doesn't like it, then they are responsible for the government shutting down!"

One of the centrists immediately files a "motion to vacate the chair," and Johnson is unceremoniously voted out, with every Democrat voting against him together with 15 Republicans who fear for their re-election chances.

The clock is ticking. The GOP conference immediately sequesters itself behind closed doors and holds a nomination vote for speaker. Tom Emmer easily wins.

The House reconvenes to vote, but Emmer falls short of the majority needed to become speaker. Another impasse faces the House.

So Emmer walks over and has a chat with Hakeem Jeffries. Nobody knows what they discuss, but when the House assembles again, ten Democrats vote: "Present," which allows Emmer to become speaker even without the Chaos Caucus votes.

Emmer then immediately puts the Senate bill up for a vote. It easily passes with all Democrats voting for it as well as the swing district Republicans. A shutdown is averted, at the last possible moment.

Emmer then -- before anyone else can get a word in edgewise -- immediately proposes a big rule change. He first attempts to get the "motion to vacate" rule changed so that it takes a majority of the majority to support such a motion before it is valid. This fails, unfortunately. So instead, he proposes a change in the way the speaker is elected. As long as the nominee gets a majority of whichever caucus is currently in control of the House, they will automatically become speaker with no floor vote necessary. This means as long as some Republican has the support of most of his or her fellow caucus-members, he or she can become speaker without having to get a majority of the whole chamber to support them. This passes with a surprising number of Republican votes, since many of them are sick of the whole circus they've had to endure over the speaker's chair.

But because the motion to vacate rule hasn't changed, the Chaos Caucus moves right away to kick Emmer out. Even though the same 10 Democrats abstain from voting, this passes with dozens of Republicans and all the rest of the Democrats voting to boot Emmer from the chair.

This leaves the GOP right back where they started from.

Because a moderate went down, this time around the Chaos Caucus nominates a fire-breathing MAGA maniac. She wins a majority of the caucus, and so Marjorie Taylor Greene becomes the next speaker. She announces she will be opening an investigation into the use of Jewish space lasers, much to the amusement of the political press. Late-night comics have an absolute field day....

This begins a cycle of Republican speakers getting deposed one after the other, each followed by another hapless speaker who is just as doomed. Centrists always draw the wrath of the extremists, and the extremists always go way too far for the centrists. The Republican Party is quite obviously broken, but because of the rule change they are able to avoid endless voting for the next speaker, each time it happens. The tenure of each successive speaker gets shorter and shorter, until it is usually measured in mere hours.

At some point, the Republicans just throw up their hands and institute a new system: they put all their members' names in a hat and draw them out one by one. The names are recorded in order, and that is the order they follow whenever another speaker goes down in flames. Nobody has to run for the office, they just go to the next name on the list.

A story starts spreading that the speaker's gavel is cursed. But most Republicans scoff at such a silly notion.

During this whole fiasco, Democrats can barely contain their glee. Campaigning for the 2024 election becomes a piece of cake -- all they have to do is point to the Republicans and say: "Do you really want more of that?!?"

Eventually, the Republicans burn through every single one of their members. With no names left on the "next to be speaker" list, they decide to settle once again for Kevin McCarthy. "Hey, at least he knows how to raise gobs of campaign cash!" they all tell themselves. McCarthy -- rather amazingly -- keeps the job for more than a few hours... then more than a few days... weeks... months. The chaos subsides, finally.

But the damage has been done. Next November, while Joe Biden waltzes to victory in the presidential race, Democrats flip a whopping 84 GOP seats in the House, cementing their majority beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Hakeem Jeffries, just to be on the safe side, orders the supposedly-cursed speaker's gavel to be replaced (with one made in America by Union labor, of course). He goes on to lead the House for many successful years, as the GOP gavel's curse has finally been broken.

Democratic Nightmare -- Golden Slate?

The Democrats, as expected, nominate Joe Biden to run for re-election to the presidency at their national convention next summer. Kamala Harris is named as the vice-presidential candidate as well.

Biden then announces he will be making a "whistle-stop" train tour of America, to kick off his campaign. The media loves the idea and (quite literally) goes along for the ride. A special "Presidential Express" train is rolled out by Biden's beloved Amtrak, and sets off from D.C.'s Union Station with a hearty: "All aboard!"

The train trip energizes Biden and provides some pizazz to his campaign. Stops are chosen at random, for security reasons. At each, a small crowd gathers around the last car on the train, where Biden appears on a little porch and addresses the populace. The consensus among those lucky enough to see the president at one of these stops is that he certainly appears to be having the time of his life.

The train gets to Delaware, and Biden gets off for a short visit to his home. When he returns, he has his dog Commander with him.

On the next leg of the journey, disaster strikes. When the Secret Service comes to escort Biden to the train's back porch for the next stop, Commander lunges at one of the agents. The agent stumbles and falls backwards, trying to avoid being savagely bitten. Unfortunately, he shoves the president while he's falling, and Joe Biden is bowled over in the fray. Biden's head slams backwards into the hard edge of the desk in his train's office, and he collapses to the floor.

He is rushed to the nearest hospital, but the damage has been done. The doctors pronounce him still alive, but in a vegetative state. He is transported by his Marine Corps One helicopter to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, where the Navy doctors confirm the sad diagnosis. Biden is alive, but only in a purely medical sense of the term. After scanning his brain multiple times, the doctors pronounce that he will never recover and will require machines to even be kept alive. His family is devastated, but because Biden is Catholic, they refuse to order the machines turned off. So Biden exists, but at the same time is gone forever.

Back in Washington, Vice President Kamala Harris calls together the president's cabinet. They vote unanimously to declare Biden "unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office," in keeping with Section 4 of the Twenty-Fifth Amendment. A document stating this fact is drawn up and transmitted to the House speaker and Senate president pro tempore. Harris then becomes "Acting President Kamala Harris."

Because there is no hope for Biden's recovery, Harris then does a very controversial thing. She declares that the office of vice president cannot remain vacant in these uncertain times, and nominates the governor of California, Gavin Newsom, to the office. At the same time, Harris officially changes her place of residence to Washington D.C., to avoid the constitution's bar on both offices being held by people from the same state (much as Dick Cheney had to hastily change his official residence from Texas to Wyoming, when he was named George W. Bush's running mate).

Republicans loudly cry foul. They state that nowhere in the Constitution is there a provision for an "acting president" to make such a nomination. Harris points to Section 2 of the Twenty-Fifth Amendment, which reads:

Whenever there is a vacancy in the office of the Vice President, the President shall nominate a Vice President who shall take office upon confirmation by a majority vote of both Houses of Congress.

This doesn't apply, say the Republicans, since Harris is not "president" but merely "acting president." A court case is filed, but becomes hopelessly ensnarled in the glacial pace of the judicial system, with the presidential election mere months away.

However, Newsom does not actually become vice president. The Senate votes him in, but the Republican House refuses to even bring the issue to the floor. Newsom is left in Limbo. The vice president's office remains empty.

This isn't the vacancy that really matters, however.

As things stand, Joe Biden's name will still be on every state's ballot in November, since he was duly nominated by his party's national convention. But obviously, nobody is going to vote for someone in a vegetative state.

The Democratic National Committee meets to name a new candidate for president. The primaries are long over, so this will be a decision made in the fabled (and now completely smokeless) "smoke-filled back rooms."

Harris demands her name be put on the ballot. She has an excellent case to make, having been Biden's choice for veep (twice) and with her now sitting in the Oval Office as acting president for the country. However, there is a large faction of Democrats who just don't think Harris can win (against Donald Trump, who has won the Republican nomination with ease). So a few other names are proposed, until finally the anti-Harris faction settles on none other than Gavin Newsom.

The Democratic National Committee holds a secret-ballot vote. Unfortunately for them, this vote ends in an exact tie. Harris and Newsom both receive the same number of votes. A few more rounds of voting take place, but nobody changes their vote.

Even a proposal to make one of the candidates the presidential nominee and the other the veep nominee doesn't help, because the basic question remains: who will be on the top of the ticket?

Frustrated, the D.N.C. then moves to institute a new rule. In the event of a tie, a coin will be flipped between the two people to decide the matter. Because Harris has a higher office than Biden, she will get to call it.

An antique silver dollar is produced, and brought to the stage. Harris and Newsom stand like football captains at the start of a game, awaiting the result. The D.N.C. chair shows both of them the coin, and then asks Harris what her call will be.

She chooses heads. The coin is tossed high in the air, flipping over in a blur, and then hits the stage. When it comes to rest, the chair announces: "Tails!" in a loud voice.

But while both Harris and Newsom accept the result and run on the "Newsom/Harris" ticket, the rest of the Democratic party is hopelessly divided. Women, in particular, are incensed. To get this close to having a woman officially win the presidency but then to be denied again enrages a large faction of the party. Others cry: "Racism!" (although it's hard to figure how a coin could be racist).

This is worse than the schism between Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. The party is irreconcilably split, and while half the party gets behind Newsom in a big way, the other half is so bitter they just give up.

In November, Democratic turnout is down by more than 30 percent.

Donald Trump is easily elected to his second (non-consecutive) term as president.

Have a happy Hallowe'en everyone!

-- Chris Weigant

Follow Chris on Twitter: @ChrisWeigant