ANNAPOLIS — Maryland political observers finally solved one of the state’s great mysteries this week after Senate President Bill Ferguson appeared beside Gov. Wes “Lying” Moore and immediately began explaining why another expensive government trap was actually an exciting opportunity for residents to demonstrate personal growth.

Sources confirmed Ferguson is, in fact, Billy the Puppet.

Not like Billy the Puppet.

Billy the Puppet.

The little suit. The unnerving stare. The sudden appearances when Maryland taxpayers are already chained to something expensive.

It was right there the whole time.

“Hello, Maryland,” Ferguson reportedly said as a television flickered on inside a dark Annapolis basement.

“I want to play a game.”

Residents looked down and discovered their ankles had been chained to a property-tax bill, a utility statement, three new fees, a structural budget deficit, and something labeled simply:

LONG-TERM REVENUE ENHANCEMENT DEVICE.

Gov. Moore’s voice could then allegedly be heard from somewhere behind the wall.

“Bill, tell them about the opportunity.”

Ferguson’s jaw began moving.

“The governor believes Maryland families deserve an economy that leaves no one behind.”

A taxpayer raised his hand.

“Can you unlock the chain?”

“No.”

“Can you lower the cost of living?”

“No.”

“Can you stop creating new programs?”

The television abruptly went black.

The Annapolis Games

Investigators now believe Ferguson has been deployed for years whenever the Moore administration needs someone to explain that the latest policy hurting your wallet is actually helping you.

Unlike the movie version of Billy, however, Maryland Billy doesn’t arrive on a tricycle.

He arrives with a 1,400-page budget reconciliation package.

The traps are also considerably more bureaucratic.

THE ELECTRIC BILL TRAP

A Maryland resident wakes inside a room containing an enormous utility bill.

A television turns on.

Ferguson appears.

“Your electric rates are increasing.”

The resident screams.

“To escape, you must correctly identify which Maryland energy policy contributed to this.”

A timer begins counting down.

Every possible answer is labeled:

DONALD TRUMP.

THE BUSINESS OWNER TRAP

A small-business owner wakes chained to a desk covered in permits, taxes, labor mandates and regulatory paperwork.

Ferguson appears on a monitor.

“You have spent years complaining that Maryland is becoming expensive to operate in.”

“Yes!”

“To prove your commitment to Maryland, you must now pay even more.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Correct.”

A trapdoor opens beneath the business and deposits it in Virginia.

THE TAXPAYER GASLIGHT CHAMBER

Perhaps the cruelest game involves placing a Maryland taxpayer inside a room while state leaders repeatedly insist the state has a revenue problem.

The taxpayer is surrounded by billions of dollars in spending.

He points at it.

“What about that?”

Ferguson slowly turns toward the camera.

“There is no spending problem.”

The taxpayer points again.

“It’s literally right there.”

“There. Is. No. Spending. Problem.”

Behind Ferguson, Wes Moore reportedly works his mouth with one hand while signing another spending initiative with the other.

“I Want to Play a Game”

Political scientists say Ferguson’s transformation into Billy explains his most important function in Annapolis:

explaining the rules after residents have already been locked inside the trap.

Moore announces the grand vision.

The General Assembly builds the machinery.

Then Billy Ferguson appears on television to explain why the gears crushing your checking account represent historic progress.

One fictional legislative aide described the process:

“Governor Moore says, ‘We’re making Maryland more competitive.’”

“Then Bill appears and explains why competitiveness requires another tax.”

“Then everyone applauds.”

“Then Virginia gets another company.”

The aide stared silently into the distance.

“We’ve done this several times.”

The Puppet Master

Critics have long accused Ferguson of being too closely aligned with Moore.

That accusation now appears unfair.

A puppet cannot technically be “too closely aligned” with the ventriloquist whose hand is operating him.

Witnesses claim Moore stores Ferguson overnight inside a mahogany cabinet in the governor’s office beside ceremonial pens, unfinished presidential speeches and a folder labeled:

WAYS THIS IS SOMEONE ELSE’S FAULT.

Each morning, Moore reportedly opens the cabinet.

“Bill?”

“Yes, Governor?”

“Marylanders are angry about affordability again.”

Ferguson’s red spiral cheeks begin glowing.

“Shall I prepare the game?”

“Prepare the game.”

Maryland Residents Offered One Final Choice

Late Thursday, televisions across Maryland suddenly switched on.

Ferguson appeared in a dark room.

“Hello, Maryland.”

Residents groaned.

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

“For years you have complained about taxes, fees, electricity prices, housing costs and government spending.”

Behind him, a digital clock started ticking.

“You now have sixty seconds to escape.”

A resident shouted:

“How?”

Ferguson smiled.

“Move to Pennsylvania.”

The screen went black.

From a cardboard box behind a Royal Farms, I can only salute the craftsmanship.

Most governments merely take your money.

Maryland apparently decided taxpayers deserved production values.

Obviously. Bill Ferguson is not literally a murderous horror-movie puppet, although Annapolis budget hearings would become significantly more watchable if he arrived on a tiny tricycle.