It was the morning of George’s big nationally televised Immigration Speech. The early morning. George couldn’t sleep.
Immigration’s not gonna work, George said to himself. Nothing’s gonna work. Fucking Iraq thing is gonna kill everything. Never shoulda…
George stopped himself. Don’t let the negativity start. It always ends up…God dammit, that’s what the pills are for. Keep the damn thing from starting in the first place.
A clock ticked in the dark bedroom.
Commissioner of Baseball. Yeah, big fucking joke. You’re a big fucking comedian now, huh Gore? Kick his fucking ass with one hand tied behind my back. Kick all their asses. Fuck him. Fuck them all.
George glanced hopefully at the lump next to him in the bed.
Maybe she’s awake. Maybe she’s in the mood. Maybe if I…
Nope. Not a chance. Not when she’s sleeping like that. God bless her. Saying she doesn’t believe the polls. God love her. Where would I be…no. Don’t start. But she doesn’t understand. Nobody understands.
George remembered his last dream. He was with that beautiful young receptionist. Outside. On the White House lawn. Naked. They’d been talking – then he was kissing her beautiful nipples. Oh it was nice. She had big ones. Not too big. But big. And they stuck out just the way he liked ’em. Then all of a sudden, just when he was getting into it he realized…she wasn’t into it. She wasn’t turned on at all. President or no president. He was too old. Too old and flabby and…then he noticed Snow watching them from behind a bush. Fucking asshole was laughing. Then he’d woken up with the damn insecurity. This fucking God damn nagging insecurity. It was all turning to shit, just like all the fancy pants liberals said it would. Just like Dad said it would. Well, not said, maybe, but those looks. Oh, he had his ways of letting you know what he thought. Oh yeah, he had his ways, alright.
Fuck him. Fuck them all.
George ran his hand lightly over Laura’s sleeping body. Not touching her, just caressing..her aura. Yeah. That’s what they call it. She might feel it. You never know. You know how women are.
Nope. A brick. A fucking piece of stone under the sheets.
I can’t believe she can sleep. How can she sleep? Everything’s turning to shit. Just like I knew it would. She doesn’t understand. Not a mean bone in her body. She’s the saint. Doesn’t believe the polls. Well, God bless her.
Some good hard sex, though. That’d do the trick. A man needs to know he’s a man. Gotta know he’s strong. For Christ’s sake, a president’s gotta have some confidence! Gotta be able to lead. That’s what sex is about! The power. Ask that poor hick Clinton. Can’t one of these women around here make a man feel powerful? Is it too big a deal to ask a woman to make the president feel like the fucking president for 15 minutes? God Dammit! I can still do it. I’m up to 6 miles on the stationary bike! 59 is not that old! God, L’il George is a powerful sight when he’s up all the way. But it’s these pills. The pills don’t let my heart beat the way it used to. Can’t pump the blood the way I used to. Fucking Presidential Pharmacist, my ass. Can’t get rid of one fucking side effect? All the pills I take? God I’d like to just walk away. Just fucking say fuck it all.
Commissioner of Baseball. Funny. Yeah, real fucking funny.
But…would it have been so bad?
Fuck you Gore, you fucking loser. Kick your ass and Kerry’s, too. One hand tied behind my back. Both of you. At the same time. While you fuck each other in the ass. Fucking faggot Democrats.
Always disparaging the job. That’s all they know how to do. Like it’s such a piece of cake being Commissioner. If it’s such a piece of cake how come Selig’s still got the job? Huh? Why couldn’t they find a replacement for Giamatti? Fuck them. They don’t know shit about baseball.
If it hadn’t been for this Iraq thing.
Well, they’re not reporting the good news.
Oh, come off it, George. What good news? For Christ’s sake, you know it’s a clusterfuck. What else could it be with that loony running the show? Now they gotta give it to me in the Daily Briefing. Yeah, I know, I asked for it. But they don’t understand. Nobody understands. Pos. It. Ivity. People don’t understand how important it is to be positive. They could still make it positive, no matter what the news is. Condi always knew how to make it positive. If Condi was still in the White House…
Condi.
Yeah. Condi.
Condi knew how to make it positive.
The skin. Those legs. Those heels…
Condi.
Yeah, Condi.
Oh, yeah. Condi.
Oh yeah…