Turns out crowdsurfing your way up to a stage takes a long fucking time. OK, victory speech--let's fucking do this. Quaxelrod soars down from the balcony and lands gently on my shoulder. I stroke his downy fucking feathers and begin.
"FUCK YES CHICAGO! This has been a long fucking campaign. The other assholes didn't stand a chance, but they put up a good fight.
The motherfuckers that contested my residency, you've got some great days ahead of you, I fucking promise you that. But to the rest of you, I've talked with a fuck-ton of you and I've learned about your resiliency, about your spirit. I've learned that this is Chicago and that CHICAGO DOESN'T FUCKING QUIT, NOT FUCKING EVER.
I've slept in an igloo and I've slept in a crawlspace and I've slept under a bridge. But as long as I was asleep in Chicago, I didn't care. I've held the motherfucking pulsating heart of Chicago in my hands, and I know that it beats true. Through everything-- through assholes, through cockholes--I've had two things: The people of Chicago, and my fucking friends.
And sure, to save the fucking world I have to disappear into a time vortex tomorrow. But being mayor is about making hard decisions. But tomorrow is tomorrow, and TONIGHT'S A FUCKING PARTY. LET'S GO CHICAGO!"
And I dive into the crowd, and their hands hold me up, and together we are fucking one.