An so I did.

That year we made seventy-five thousan dollars before expenses an the bidness is gettin so big I got to hire more people to hep me run it. One person I get is ole Snake, the quarterback from the University. He is not too happy with his present job with the tinymight football team an so I put him to work with Curtis in charge of dredgin an spillway duties. Then I find out that Coach Fellers from the highschool is done retired an so I give him a job, along with his two goons who has also retired, workin on boats an docks.

Pretty soon the newspapers get wind of what is goin on an send a reporter down to interview me for a sort of "local boy makes good" story. It appears the nex Sunday, with a photo of me an Mama an Sue, an the headline say, "Certifiable Idiot Finds Future in Novel Marine Experiment."

Anyhow, not too long after that, Mama say to me that we need to get somebody to hep her with the bookkeepin part of the bidness an give some kind of advice on financial things on account of we is makin so much money. I done thought bout it a wile, an then I decided to get in touch with Mister Tribble, cause he had made a bunch of money in bidness before he retired. He was delighted I had called, he say, an will be on the nex plane down.

A week after he gets here, Mister Tribble say we got to set down an talk.

"Forrest," he say, "what you have done here is nothing short of remarkable, but you are at a point where you need to begin some serious financial planning."

I axed him what bout, an he say this: "Investments! Diversification! Look, as I see it, this next fiscal year you are going to have profits at about a hundred and ninety thousand dollars. The following year it will bear near a quarter of a million. With such profits you must reinvest them or the IRS will tax you into oblivion. Reinvestment is the very heart of American business!"

An so that's what we did.

Mister Tribble took charge of all that, an we formed a couple of corporations. One was "Gump's Shellfish Company." Another was called "Sue's Stuffed Crabs, Inc.," an another was "Mama's Crawfish Étouffée, Ltd."

Well, the quarter of a million become haf a million an the year followin that, a million, an so on, till after four more years we done become a five million dollar a year bidness. We got nearly three hundred employees now, includin The Turd an The Vegetable, whose rasslin days were over, an we got them loadin crates at the warehouse. We tried like hell to find po Dan, but he done vanished without a trace. We did find ole Mike, the rasslin promoter, an put him in charge of public relations an advertisin. At Mister Tribble's suggestion, Mike done even hired Raquel Welch to do some television ads for us—they dressed her up to look like a crab, an she dance aroun an say, "You ain't never had crabs till you try Sue's!"

Anyhow, things has gotten real big-time. We got a fleet of refrigerator trucks an a fleet of srimp, oyster an fishin boats. We got our own packin house, an a office buildin, an have invested heavily in real estate such as condominiums an shoppin centers an in oil an gas leases. We done hired ole Professor Quackenbush, the English teacher from up at Harvard University, who have been fired from his job for molestin a student, an made him a cook in Mama's étouffée operation. We also hired Colonel Gooch, who got drummed out of the Army after my Medal of Honor tour. Mister Tribble put him in charge of "covert activities."

Mama has gone an had us a big ole house built cause she say it ain't right for a corporate executive like me to be livin in no shack. Mama say Sue can stay on in the shack an keep an eye on things. Ever day now, I got to wear a suit an carry a briefcase like a lawyer. I got to go to meetins all the time an listen to a bunch of shit that sound like pygmie talk, an people be callin me "Mister Gump," an all. In Mobile, they done give me the keys to the city an axed me to be on the board of directors of the hospital an the symphony orchestra.

An then one day some people come by the office an say they want to run me for the United States Senate.

"You're an absolute natural," this one feller say. He is wearing a searsucker suit an smokin a big cigar. "A former star football player for Bear Bryant, a war hero, a famous astronaut and the confidant of Presidents—what more can you ask?!" he axe. Mister Claxton is his name.

"Look," I tell him, "I am just a idiot. I don't know nothin bout politics."

"Then you will fit in perfectly!" Mister Claxton say. "Listen, we need good men like you. Salt of the earth, I tell you! Salt of the earth!"

I did not like this idea any more than I like a lot of the other ideas people have for me, on account of other people's ideas are usually what get me into trouble. But sure enough, when I tole my mama, she get all teary-eyed an proud an say it would be the answer to all her dreams to see her boy be a United States Senator.

Well, the day come when we is to announce my candidacy. Mister Claxton an them others hired the auditorium up in Mobile an hauled me out on the stage in front of a crowd that paid fifty cents apiece to come listen to my shit. They begin with a lot of long-winded speeches an then it come my turn.

"My feller Americans," I begin. Mister Claxton an the others have writ me a speech to give an later they will be questions from the audience. TV cameras are rollin an flashbulbs are poppin an reporters are scribblin in their notebooks. I read the whole speech, which ain't very long an don't make much sense—but what do I know? I am jus a idiot.

When I am finished talkin, a lady from the newspaper stand up an look at her notepad.

"We are currently on the brink of nuclear disaster," she say, "the economy is in ruins, our nation is reviled throughout the world, lawlessness prevails in our cities, people starve of hunger every day, religion is gone from our homes, greed and avarice is rampant everywhere, our farmers are going broke, foreigners are invading our country and taking our jobs, our unions are corrupt, babies are dying in the ghettos, taxes are unfair, our schools are in chaos and famine, pestilence and war hang over us like a cloud—in view of all this, Mister Gump," she axe, "what, in your mind, is the most pressing issue of the moment?" The place was so quiet you coulda heard a pin drop.

"I got to pee," I says.

At this, the crowd went wile! People begun hollerin an cheerin an shoutin an wavin they hands in the air. From the back of the room somebody started chantin an pretty soon the whole auditorium was doin it.

"WE GOT TO PEE! WE GOT TO PEE! WE GOT TO PEE!" they was yellin.

My mama had been settin there behind me on the stage an she got up an come drug me away from the speaker's stand.

"You ought to be ashamed of yoursef," she say, "talkin like that in public."

"No, no!" Mister Claxton says. "It's perfect! They love it. This will be our campaign slogan!"

"What will?" Mama axed. Her eyes narrowed down to little beads.

"We Got to Pee!" Mister Claxton say. "Just listen to them! No one has ever had such a rapport with the common people!"

But mama ain't buyin none of it. "Whoever heard of anybody usin a campaign slogan like that!" she says. "It's vulgar an disgusting—besides, what does it mean?"

"It's a symbol," Mister Claxton says. "Just think, we'll have billboards and placards and bumper stickers made up. Take out television and radio ads. It's a stroke of genius, that's what it is. We Got to Pee is a symbol of riddance of the yoke of government oppression—of evacuation of all that is wrong with this country... It signifies frustration and impending relief!"

"What!" Mama axed suspiciously. "Is you lost your mind?"

"Forrest," Mister Claxton says, "you are on your way to Washington."