“I will keep you safe, Joe,” the mask whispered into Joe’s ear as they walked on perfectly manicured grass to the limousine together.

“I don’t like being outside,” Joe muttered to his mask. “I see gravestones everywhere.”

“You’re in a graveyard, Joe,” the mask said. “It’s Memorial Day.”

“It can’t be Memorial Day. That’s on a Monday. Today is Wednesday. Memorial Day is not on a Wednesday.”

“You are correct, Joe,” the mask said brightly. “Memorial Day is not on a Wednesday.”

“What are we doing here?” Joe asked. The inside of the mask was already wet from his moist breath and thin rivulets of saliva running out of each corner of his mouth. It was hot out and his suit was uncomfortable. Joe looked up at the sun and looked away when it hurt.

“Don’t look at the sun, Joe,” the mask said primly. “You can ruin your eyes.”

“I just laid a wreath!” Joe said excitedly.

“Yes, Joe, you did. You did just lay a wreath.”

“I got in a fight with a wreath once. It didn’t stand a chance!” Joe said excitedly. “It’s Memorial Day!”

“Did you say something, dear?” Jill asked through her mask. Her dumb old mask, Joe thought. Joe had never heard Jill’s mask speak. Only Joe’s mask was special like that.

“It’s a nice day!” he shouted through his mask.

“Be careful, honey,” Jill said, steering him between two stones.

“I know how to walk!” Joe said, pulling his arm out of her grasp. “I’m, I’m, I’m not enfeebled, dammit.”

“Joe,” the mask said in Jill’s voice, “The cameras.”

“I don’t make gaffes,” Joe told mommywifemask. “I suffocate.”

Joe Biden and his mask salute the unknown soldier.

“Are you black enough to vote for me?” he asked the Secret Service agent trailing them. “I had eggs for breakfast.”

“Yes, dear,” Jill whispered. She looked over her shoulder at the agent and gave a short nod.

“Rainbow Eagle is returning to his nest,” he said into his wrist. “Do you need me to repeat?”

“I don’t need to be managed,” Joe said to his mask. “I’m Joe Biden. Everyone loves me, man. It’s, it’s, it’s Donald Trump that’s the problem. He wants to put people in cages at Chili’s, you dig it?”

“Do you need me to repeat?” the agent asked his wrist again. “Do you need me to repeat?” He tapped his earbud speaker and it fell out.

“You need to calm down, Joe,” the mask whispered. He used his elastic to massage the delicate scars behind his ears.

“I don’t want to go back to the basement,” Joe said. “I don’t like it down there. It smells of applesauce and old man.”

“It’s safe down there, Joe,” the mask said. “Don’t you want to be safe?”

“Do you need me to repeat?!?” the Secret Service agent screamed into his sleeve.

“And the special chair that helps you stand up is down there,” the mask told him.

The reports and bloggers and tweeters clustered around his motorcade began taking photos. Joe started to wrestle the mask off his face.

“Joe! Stop that!” the mask and Jill said at the same time.

“How are they going to see me smile?” he asked.

“Smile with your eyes,” Jill hissed.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Joe asked. “My eyes don’t have lips!”

“Just get in the limo!” the mask said, this time in Joe’s own voice.

 

Joe Biden Looked Good in His Mask

On Monday, Joe Biden wore a mask, pictured above, to attend a Memorial Day event in Delaware. While a few right-wing contrarians suggested otherwise, even many of those who have been less than enthusiastic about the Biden campaign felt that the the [sic] accessory created a “look” that was not just safe and responsible but outright sharp and commanding. For Biden, putting on the mask turned out to be an “alpha” move.