Tagged: politician

The Helicopter Flew Over the Sea

  • by jenpresidential sex saga
  • ushered into the presence of Thor himself
  • and the hissing of the flames
  • — and go away with it
  • the old house in which my father died

Tune In Next Time Part 32                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

The helicopter flew over the sea for an hour, and then over the land, and finally touched down on the lawn of the old house in which my father died. Some people call it the White House. I didn’t like to be reminded of the part my father played in the presidential sex saga scandal, and wondered why Mitzy brought me here, of all places. I wished I could take the helicopter’s controls — wrench them from the pilot’s hands if I must! — and go away with it to some other location.

I looked at Mitzy for an explanation. Perhaps we were here to destroy the damn place, and the hissing of the flames would sing me to sleep tonight. My hopes were dashed when Mitzy said, “And now he will be ushered into the presence of Thor himself!”

Thor was, of course, my brother. He had been vice-president until the whole sex scandal forced our mother from office. I wondered many times if he orchestrated the imbroglio that resulted in our father’s death. I hoped I would survive this encounter. Tessa was the furthest thing from my mind, which, as it turns out, was a mistake.

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Chauncey Knew

  • by jena great deal of reviewing
  • He got down with raised eyebrows.
  • she did not respond to him in a favorable way
  • for no special reason
  • proximity to money and power

Chauncey knew the way to win Myrtle’s heart was by winning the dance-off at the senior prom. After a great deal of reviewing how-to videos on YouTube and practicing in front of the mirror, he was ready. Chauncey’s rental tuxedo was a stunning combination of white and gold that some people inexplicably saw as blue and black. At the country club he stood in line with all of the other hopefuls. The music started. He got down with raised eyebrows. Despite his sick dance moves and the soulful expressions he threw at Myrtle, she did not respond to him in a favorable way. Neither did the judges. They awarded the trophy to Mike Phillips for no special reason that Chauncey could see, except for the fact that Mike Phillips’s mother was a senator and the judges were all blinded by his proximity to money and power. But not Myrtle. She left the prom the way she arrived, surrounded by a group of indifferent girls dressed all in black.

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I’m No Slouch

by jen

  • fertile ground for unintentional comedy
  • bustling up from his chair
  • I’m no slouch
  • leave it alone
  • find myself craving the famous borscht

I’m no slouch, but my Russian is not as good as it could be. I try to tell the ambassador that whenever I am in Moscow I find myself craving the famous borscht. Who knows what I actually say. The ambassador cries, “Leave it alone, leave it alone!” while bustling up from his chair, his face as red as the beets the soup is made from. Cultural misunderstandings are fertile ground for unintentional comedy, but they make diplomacy a bitch.

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“Good Evening”

  • by jenred micro-fleece pajamas
  • no one could touch me, not even myself!
  • Prime Minister’s Question Time
  • you want them to smell
  • competitive sort of interaction

“Good evening and welcome to Prime Minister’s Question Time. I’m your host, Margaret Thatcher. The first question tonight comes from Rune Skelley who tweets, “Prime Minister, I’m in the market for a quality pair of red micro-fleece pajamas. What should I look for when shopping?”

“Well, Rune Skelley, the most important thing is that you want them to smell new, and not as if they had been worn during any competitive sort of interaction with a member of the opposite sex. I’m sure you understand what I’m alluding to. I myself used to own a pair of Union Jack micro-fleece pajamas and eventually, after many long nights in Parliament, they smelled so badly that no one could touch me, not even myself!

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“I Ain’t No Mau-Mau”

  • by jenI ain’t no Mau-mau
  • said the flabbergasted writer
  • breast of alligator
  • inflection the echo of the heady times
  • actor-robots never panic

I ain’t no Mau-mau,” said the flabbergasted writer as she declined the breast of alligator proffered by the mute servant. Even to her own ear her voice had a tremulous inflection, the echo of heady times sweeping the tropical capital where she was currently on assignment.

The prime minister was making an elaborate toast which the translator translated as “actor-robots never panic.”

The writer blinked in confusion.

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Under the Full Glare

  • by jenthe full glare of publicity, with
  • the ambassador opened his mouth
  • Sweet Samantha
  • Your poor people was overwhelmed
  • the shifting cluster of rocks in that part

Under the full glare of publicity, with video cameras broadcasting his every word and gesture, the ambassador opened his mouth to offer his condolences to the Prime Minister. “Sweet Samantha,” he began, but instantly regretted the term of endearment. He started again, but was so flustered by his faux pas that he lost some of his hard-earned fluency in sweet, sweet Samantha’s native tongue. “Your poor people was overwhelmed by the shifting cluster of rocks in that part of the colony.” He faltered, too dismayed to continue.

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The Sheep/Goat Mutual Aid Society

  • k-avatarhis own club lashed out
  • the street sneezed
  • warm salty water in my mouth
  • and crouched while she drank it
  • she was a limp doll

The Sheep/Goat Mutual Aid Society printed a scathing pamphlet about Harvey, and his own club lashed out with a retort in the form of a full-page ad that Sunday. All was politics as usual, until either a Sheep or a Goat used a blowgun to take Harvey out of the picture.

Harvey lay there, and the street sneezed under him. The poison of the dart twisted the world into rippling fever-dreams, and he could only lay still and wonder if he would survive.

So much warm salty water in my mouth, Harvey thought. He couldn’t breathe. But a cat trotted up to him, and purred in his ear, and crouched while she drank it.

Having saved his life, she was a limp doll across his chest.

 

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Have You Ever Heard of Hieronymus Warhol?

  • by jensluggish and contented
  • didn’t have bathtubs
  • He died in 1970
  • tooth and toenail
  • I’m vain and I’m lazy
  • put him at a cobbler’s bench

Have you ever heard of Hieronymus Warhol? He died in 1970, sluggish and contented, in a poverty-stricken neighborhood in Rio de Janeiro where the inhabitants were so poor they didn’t have bathtubs. Or so rumor has it.

What really happened in Rio was that Warhol ran afoul of a politician by making unwanted advances at the man’s wife. Warhol was famous for saying, “I’m vain and I’m lazy,” so the politico had him kidnapped and put him at a cobbler’s bench where he was forced to make the lady in question a pair of stiletto heels using only tooth and toenail for tools.

In later years Warhol called it one of the most grueling and sexually satisfying ordeals of his life.

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Harry Couldn’t Go Out There

  1. k-avatarCharacter – politician
  2. Setting – Australian outback
  3. Object – monocle
  4. Situation – earthquake

Harry couldn’t go out there. The crowd was rabid. He would call campaign headquarters, but some lunatic wallaby had his cellphone in her pouch.

“He’s almost ready. Where’s that monocle? Harry looks dignified with a monocle.”

That kangaroo is only making this worse, thought Harry. The noise of the crowd was suddenly louder and a stray boomerang caromed off the wall near his head.

The kangaroo was shouting now. “No! Monocle, I said monocle, you egg-laying imbecile! I suppose it’ll have to do…”

Before he could react, Harry’s wrists were bound by cold iron manacles and he was shoved out onto the stage.

Suddenly, the building began to shake. The pandemonium of the crowd sputtered out.

Harry cleared his throat, lost his balance, and toppled to the floor. He couldn’t get up because of the restraints, and the shaking of the floor. Plaster dust sifted down onto his blue suit as he thought, I can see the headlines now — Harry won’t take a stand.

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The Crowd Was Getting Ugly

  1. by jenCharacter – politician
  2. Setting – theatre
  3. Object – CD
  4. Situation – police intervention

The crowd was getting ugly. Murmuring became grumbling, then hissing and catcalls. This was bad. I looked in desperation to my Secret Service agents, but they just smiled bemusedly. My damn advisers were wrong. No one was going for my new tax plan. The more I thought about it, the more certain I became. This was a set-up.

A bottle broke at my feet. A plastic cup flew past my head. My Secret Service agents disappeared. Emboldened, the crowd threw more garbage. And shoes. And lunch bags. Even a CD, which smacked me in the forehead.

As my blood began to trickle, they went wild and rushed the podium. My football days weren’t so long ago, and I darted backstage. Trying to blend with the foot traffic outside, I slipped down the block to a movie theatre. I dashed to the box office.

“One for Police Intervention,” I said, and hurried inside.

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