President Lieden, ankles crossed on the Oval Office desk, reading USA Today in paper form. Jennifer Psyop waits apprehensively. She must appear before the press in sixteen minutes. Vice President Dinah Parris sits on the edge of the couch looking at the president, who stopped in mid-sentence to look up something in the paper. He found it, then got distracted by something else, and on and on. Psyop in the chair she always sits in, the simple wooden grade school chair desk before the boss's wide oak platform. She may sit nowhere else in the office, per presidential order. During his inauguration, he'd said, twenty-one minutes into his speech on a very cold day, "This White House will respect the concept of seating arrangements." Forty-nine minutes into the speech, freshly minted President Lieden referenced Top Hat, starring Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, but he was talking actually about Top Gun, starring Val Kilmer and Tom Cruise.
At minute fifty he said, "The highway to the danger zone passes through Syria, Russia, the Middle East, Burma, Tokyo, Berlin, Yellowknife, Pittsburgh, Wilmington, yes, even my Wilmington! The way those two danced, she in heels and backwards, but it seems Fred was also going backwards sometimes, and he had to wear something tight around his neck, which reminds me, I've decided to stop wearing masks. I'm tired of them. I'm exempt from all mask mandates. That's my first executive order, I will sign it later this afternoon, before the balls where the air will smell of hair. Yellowknife, Pittsburgh, where was I? Yeah, I'm going off my notes, I've barely used that gizmo, that tell-uh, tell-uh, whatever it's called."
President Lieden: Holy-moly! (shoes off the desk, sitting up, looking at paper)
Psyop/Parris: What is it, Mr. President?!
President Lieden: Guy in North Dakota just won 245 million dollars. Lottery. He bought just one ticket, quote, the only ticket I ever bought, end quote. Harvey Watkins, that's his name, age fifty-one, an aluminum siding man. Jennifer.
Psyop: Yes, sir.
Lieden: Do you have time to get me some coffee, some good coffee, not that Star Trucks crap.
Psyop: You mean Star--
Lieden: I MEAN GOOD COFFEE! Aromatic, sensibly but firmly caffeinated, not too hot when you put the cup in my hand.
Psyop: I'm going to the press room in...fifteen minutes.
Lieden: Dinah!
Parris: Yes, Mr. President.
Lieden (digs in pocket, takes out a ten): Coffee. Get some. For me. If you don't have coffee with you next time you come in here don't come in here.
Parris: Mr. President, we were going to discuss the Brazilian deal.
Lieden: You'll get your Brazilian. Go get my coffee. I need to wake up. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know where I am. Something wore off. A needle in my arm would feel reassuring.
Psyop: I'm calling your doctor.
Lieden: Dinah, what don't you understand about going to get some coffee for me?
Parris: I'm concerned for your health, sir.
Lieden: Waiting to see if you'll be getting sworn in right here on this spot where I'm about to croak?
Parris: Mr. President--
Lieden: You're weak, Parris! We would've done better setting your husband up for the job. He's smarter than you, and pliable, just like you.
Parris: He's not interested in a political career.
Lieden: Oh, you think that! I have it on good authority your husband has accepted an invitation into the Ratfuck Bastards.
Parris: The what?
Lieden: They're the oligarchs who run the world.
Parris: That's just a bunch of made up stuff, there aren't grey eminences running the world behind the scenes.
Lieden: You think that's true just because you said it. Dinah, believe me, the Ratfuck Bastards are real, they've been monkeying with human destiny for twenty-three millennia.
Parris: Twenty-three--twenty-three thousand years?!
Lieden: What I said. I feel like someone's going to crunch my legs like they're celery because that's what they feel like. To retire, no more work, I'm feeling that's starting to look good.
Parris: Do you know the names of any Ratfuck Bastards?
Lieden: Dracula Deadface. Biff Jeezus.
Parris: I can see that.
Lieden: Chick Raney.
Parris: What?
Lieden: My former boss, Amare Bongo.
Parris: Do tell!
Lieden: Mrs. Bongo.
Parris: Women can be in this club?
Lieden: Arms industry CEOs, Wall Street folks, hedge fund managers, world leaders, Bono, my wife.
Parris: You're in it, aren't you?
Lieden: No, never made it to that one. I was in a gang once, though. Our big rival in those days was Cornpop and his mean dudes. Rusty straight razors, boy they could cut you and walk away without a conscience. Fortunately, I never found out what would've happened in a rumble with Cornpop. His gang and my gang rumbled with other gangs. Sometimes my gang would pummel another gang, then that gang would fight Cornpop's gang a week later and get pummeled a second time.
Jennifer Psyop: Mr. President, Doctor Grauchi is here.
Grauchi (preparing a needle): Normally I would give this to you in two glasses of Strawberry Quik, but I see you're on the verge of giving up the ghost, so hastier measures are called for, wouldn't you agree, Madame Vice President?
Parris: I am only interested in the health and well-being of the leader of the free world.
Grauchi: There, Mr. President, why don't you go with this nice armed man to your bedroom. Mike, just take off his shoes and put a quilt over him. Vice President Parris, you nearly became President Parris. The president suffered a mistiming in his medication distribution. I take full responsibility, not that that means anything when a high-ranking official says it. Jennifer, are you not doing a press conference very soon?
Psyop: Yes. Madame Vice President, Doctor. (Exits).
Parris: That truly was a scare.
Grauchi: I see in your face the nervousness accompanying the realization of possible imminent elevation to a job you're not qualified for, like you're not qualified for the job you now have.
Parris: Your wry tongue belies the popular perception of you, Dr. Grauchi. I have a thick skin, fortunately.
Grauchi (laughs) No, you don't. Berating your employees implies a temper. Working for you, according to thirteen news articles I've read and enjoyed in the last four days alone, is like working for Cruella de Vil. Have you seen Cruella? I had to go. I'm an Emma Thompson completist.
Parris: I expect good work from my employees. When they fall short I get a little irritated. It goes with the job. I had to go to Munich and meet with Zelensky. My people failed to prepare me with the right information about this man. I had it on my cards to memorize that Zelensky was a professional wrestler. He overlooked that faux pas--turns out he's an actor, so there you go, a Ronald Reagan angle to spin onto this guy, everybody likes Reagan, but I had to do some acting too, pretending I care about Ukraine's struggle to not be in a tug of war between two major powers, one major power being the greatest of all time.
Grauchi: Ancient Rome, I think, was greater.
Parris: President Lieden, before his episode, enthused about a man who won the lottery.
Grauchi: Isn't that amazing? He's only bought the one ticket ever! I wonder what made him want to buy that ticket? A movie could be made about it. I'm picturing Judd Hirsch in the lead role.
Parris: I feel marginalized in this administration.
Grauchi: Quit.
Parris: Just quit?
Grauchi: Yes, don't even threaten it. Quit, clear out your stuff, retire to California, write a book, reemerge in two years, humbled by your experience as Vice President. Your popularity will rise, but if you stay in office, expect it to stay below 40.
Parris: I remember when you were at 89, now you're at 43.
Grauchi: I have my money. I have the friendship of Gil Bates. I and my family have our tickets for the ark. What do I need popularity for?
Parris: I'm not going to quit. From now on, I operate from my terms. I'll be more forceful in cabinet meetings. I'll turn up my laser focus to eleven. Dinah Parris, Veep!
Grauchi: Your next gaffe will simply confirm in the minds of news people and people in general how you're just an awkward shy little girl from Oakland, California. You don't know how to speak English, you guess at the words and somehow, when they come out wrong, you're apt to laugh uncontrollably, like there's a demon in your brain operating your motor functions.
Parris: Omicron spoiled your fun, didn't it? Vaccines less necessary? Are you feeling the pinch of disappointment, Tony?
Grauchi: I'm not concerned. Disease is always with us.
Parris: When I'm president, do you want your current job and all its perks?
Grauchi: I will probably be living on Mars by the time the worn out American people elect you president, but I wouldn't count on that happening. Even President Lieden can muster a degree of charm, he's well-liked by some voters. You, Madame Vice President, are not well liked at all. You're the losing lottery ticket. You're the gas bill. You're a broken pipe under a kitchen sink. You're three days of rain and flooded basements. You're a missile going off in a child's face. You're a slave master, holding prisoners back from their justly earned releases so you can use them as wildfire fighters. I'm not condemning you, bear in mind. My crimes dwarf yours. If you repeat that, I'll admit it. I'm untouchable, Ms. Psyop said it in a press conference. There are no circumstances under which Dr. Grauchi would ever be fired by President Lieden, end quote. That was good to hear, cleared my doubts about releasing what Gil and I have planned for the next pandemic.
Parris: Tell me more. The next one.
Grauchi: Night Sickness. Nights will be terrible if you have this illness, but in daytime you'll feel fine.
Parris: Get all your living done in the day.
Grauchi: Yes, but people work in the day. You do, for instance.
Parris: I want time to enjoy my day! If I'm going to be sick at night, I can't get anything done, in pleasure or work, during that time. Did you have someone invent this?
Grauchi: Sure.
Parris: It sounds unpleasant.
Grauchi: Of course it's unpleasant, but did you get used to Covid-19?
Parris: Yes.
Grauchi: You'll get used to Night Sickness. Thing is, though, we're expecting it, tragically, to kill 70 percent of the human race during the first year.
Parris: Let's see, that's seven out of ten people, worldwide? Or focused on certain heavily populated areas? I mean, it seems unfair to depopulate some remote county in Montana.
Grauchi: Asia will be devastated, Africa too, and the United States, unfortunately will be run so incompetently, on purpose per the wishes of Ratfuck Bastards--
Parris: Are you a Ratfuck Bastard?
Grauchi: No, but then, maybe I am? When asked, a Ratfuck Bastard never admits she or he is a Ratfuck Bastard.
Parris: You were saying something about incompetent leadership per the Night Sickness?
Grauchi: Per incompetence in leadership, expected to continue, especially if you're in charge--
Parris: I'm ignoring your put-downs.
Grauchi: --but even if you're not and you're semi-retired to California, writing your book, sipping tea with Cassandra Blade, taking advice from the dumbest political strategist ever, America will lose between 60 and 80 percent of her population. When you have the Night Sickness, your chances at surviving it are thirty-seven to one, so a lot of people aren't going to be able to bury themselves. Burials, burnings, will occupy humanity for several years.
Parris: You cleared the funding for this atrocious thing?
Grauchi: Yes. Gain of function research. Some men are into Blondes, I'm into steering taxpayer dollars towards the manufacturing of viruses that shouldn't exist.
Parris: When does it go into the population?
Grauchi: The summer of 2025, maybe Fourth of July.
Parris: Just don't do it on my birthday. I feel sorry for people with September 11 birthdays.
Grauchi: This will be much worse than September 11.
White House Press Room, Jennifer Psyop has been speaking for five minutes. Positive statements about the administration's infrastructure plans, the economy booms, our hearts, thoughts, prayers, and military support are with the people of Ukraine, there are no Nazis there, President Lieden has never been more in command of his faculties, he's playing 3D chess while President Putout plays ordinary chess.
Psyop: Irene?
Reporter: As a long time chess player, Jennifer, I can assure you that regular chess is complicated enough without bringing 3D chess into it. Do you know anyone who plays 3D chess?
Psyop: I know a gotcha question when I hear one (laughter in the room). Isabel?
Reporter: According to a Pentagon source, Space Force will become more involved in the war in Ukraine. My source hinted at fake alien abduction scenarios carried out on Russian troops. Is there anything to this?
Psyop: I will not comment on ongoing operations in Ukraine, whether real or mere rumor. Illya?
Reporter: There's talk in Congress of a bill making the blue of the American flag Ukrainian flag-blue and the white stripes and stars Ukrainian flag-yellow. I, a man of Kyiv, would be overwhelmed by the beauty of such a flag. Does the president want this or will he veto it?
Psyop: The president supports the people of Ukraine, he likes their flag, he has a small Ukraine flag along with the American flag sticking out of a stand on his desk. He likes talking about and gazing at Ukraine's flag. I believe it's certain the president will not veto in this case. Intelligence Operative?
Reporter: The Russian Army has imploded. Zelensky meets with Beyoncé to plan a victory parade in Kyiv. Jennifer Lopez's agent has been in touch with Zelensky's posse, it could be that Ben Affleck's lady love angles for a concert, a fundraiser perhaps, for the embattled but soon to be victorious people of Ukraine, for they will, of course, win this war, while Russia will have to do without Lopez and Beyonce gracing that land anytime soon. How come we didn't know the Russians have a crap army? What makes them so fearsome if they're a crap army?
Psyop: I cannot speak to your remarks about Beyonce and Jennifer Lopez, but the war grinds along. It's a marathon, not a sprint. We need to nourish that war with our weapons. The strategy, if you haven't already figured it out, is to export weapons into Ukraine, billions of dollars worth, feed into it weapons, keep the war going forever, or until twenty or so years go by, wrecking Russia's economy, sapping it, taking away China's Russkie ally, an Eastern European threat we need no longer worry about.
Moe Lieden walks out, chipper, smiling, it's like when Dean Martin would surprise walk onto The Tonight Show while Johnny Carson was interviewing Joey Bishop. Reporters begin shouting "Mr. President!" which isn't a question. Lieden leans in on Psyop, head submerged in her red hair. He seems to be telling her something right into her ear, his mouth is that close. She nods, says okay, shifting of press butts, photographs--will they be censored? Photoshopped to make it look like Moe Lieden is simply informing his subordinate she shouldn't talk so candidly about government's ongoing operations, except his visible boner in khakis sings "I'm a Crazy Old Man," new hit by H.O. Bradsby, Nashville's new taste. Psyop smiles tightly with a closed mouth, Lieden backs away, front of his trousers seeming to hang on a coat peg. Psyop yields the podium, stands stage left.
Lieden: (grinning) She's something, isn't she? (clapping). Everybody, let's hear it for Jennifer! Put palms together, people, let me hear those palms. Faster. Yeah, get it out. Applaud! That's how much they love you, Jennifer! I love you, Jennifer! Platonically! Oh, I wish I could say more but there's too many people in the room! Even I know not to confess affection in front of a roomful of hostile entities who will not hesitate to print, upload, photograph, my love as I express it sans embarrassment. (Leans in to the microphone, does his low quiet voice thing). The last time I was here, I shit this stage, now nothing's coming out of me except total honesty. (speaking normally) I'm a romantic, still, after all these years. Mother Lieden was right. "Morris," she said. "Do something with high speed rail. I read about it in my Ray Bradbury, or was it my Francis Truffaut, you know, that movie of his, Fahrenheit four five one. High speed rail. That's your future. So it shouldn't surprise you, because I did what's called a spoiler. I'm proposing the investment of 1.7 billion dollars in a high speed rail system for Washington, Arlington, Langley, Quantico, Wilmington, and Scranton. I feel that moment now when the guy who says "Gentlemen, start your engines," except there are women in that profession, I think there were women in racing cars in the olden times back when I was a child. A child, it's so strange to think of little Moe Lieden, two years old, doesn't know what the hell is going on. Little Moe, you're gonna rule the world. Somebody should've said that to me because it's true. My dreams are coming true. This war with Russia is making neoconservatives and neoliberals alike cum in their trousers. I was with one of the top generals, the Army guy, General Best. Bomb and I were talking about the six and a half billion in weapons shipments to Ukraine, how good that is for our friends on K Street, for Goldman Sachs, it's just the best way to make money hand over fist. I never understood that expression. But General Best groaned like a college kid and shot off in his army greens, horribly embarrassed, but we were fine with it. Bomb says more people cum inside the Pentagon than in any other building in the world. Can't confirm it but maybe it's true. You've got questions! Gregory.
Reporter: How will you counter Republicans obsessed with balancing the budget, entering an austerity era, cutting social programs, maybe ditching social security? The senators close to Minority Leader Groper Muzzle, the so-called "Team," make no bones about it. They will hamper your agenda every chance they get. That's their only job, a source inside the "Team" told me, on condition of anonymity due to the penalty of having a finger removed if he, or she, betrays secret talks of the "Team." You've seen the cartoon of Senator Muzzle in a leather apron, holding branch cutters, a lone bloody index finger on the floor before him?
Lieden: Son, I don't know what your question is.
Reporter: My point is, Muzzle and his group are an effective counter-force to your agenda. What will you do to overpower these obstructors?
Lieden: Nobody can accuse me of not running into danger as fast as I can. I head straight for it. I bring others with me. I don't want to be alone and in danger. I want others to feel the danger then we can all breathe in relief. That's the way to think about Ukraine. In a few weeks you'll be covering some volcano erupting. Gas?
Reporter: In Poland recently, our ambassador there, Orpis Deelmak, made a deal with the Polish government to offer military training and possible commissions to Ukrainian refugees willing and able to fight.
Lieden: Where did you hear that?
Reporter: There have been several articles about it.
Lieden: I think it's a lie.
Reporter: Since I have you here, what is our purpose in Ukraine?
Lieden: We're not in Ukraine.
Reporter: There are Americans there, Blackwater.
Lieden: It's not called Blackwater anymore. They change their name a lot because they do good humane work. They're called Mapletree. Is that it? Grok?
Reporter: How is it possible in these grim circumstances to feel sympathy for the Other? I mean the psychological Other. Can I tolerate the existence of some race some people don't like? You, Mr. President, exude the need to be helped. I saw you defecate on that stage. I also saw how you fell down. But I saw how you got back up and resumed talking. It didn't matter what you said after you took a dump in front of thirty people. No one paid attention, in fact, we're not sure you're not about to take down your pants and wave it around at Jennifer.
Lieden: That is not something I would do (low whispery voice) in public! (exact wrong time to grin, but he does it).
Jennifer Psyop (hurrying to the podium): I feel like I'm on Saturday Night Live.
Reporter: Jennifer, did you see it two nights ago?
Psyop: No Isaac, why?
Reporter: Trisha T. Howard did a perfect imitation of you, down to how you flip your hair from your eyes. It was you, it was absolutely you.
Psyop: The sincerest form of flattery and all that. Changing the subject--Mr. President? Do you need help finding your way back to your office? Mike? Escort the president to the Oval Office, please. Thank you. Iman?
Reporter: Bombing and military operations continue in Somalia while Putout attacks Ukraine. How is one worse than the other?
Psyop: I feel like I just heard you speaking Spanish. I know a little Spanish, but my imperfect knowledge of Spanish hampers my view, therefore, while I may get the gist of your question, I don't know why you would ask it, since the premise is a moral equivalency between the United States and Russia. There is no equality between the two nations, one is superior to the other, and if you have to ask which one, I will make a phone call after this press briefing. Within a day you'll be taken somewhere and questioned. That goes for all of you! We're in this together! We cannot fail. Our cause is better than theirs. Remember the hockey games, the "miracle on the ice"?
Reporter: That was the Soviet Union versus U.S.
Psyop: Irving, they were still Russians. Yellow and blue, people! And red, white, and blue!
Reporter: Those are the colors of the Russian flag, too.
Psyop: Feeling feisty, Igor? Want to be taken somewhere and questioned?
Reporter: Victory for Ukraine!
To be continued...
Vic Neptune
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