This is the true story of what happens when seven politicians stop acting polite, and start acting real.
WASHINGTON, DC — Why they let me into the Whitehouse after just knocking on the door, I’ll never know, but there I was, seven hours later in the evening, puffing a cigar in the Oval Office and talking to Ari about how it would be possible to resolve this whole Axis of Evil issue.
“Look dude, Rumsfeld is a kick ass spokesperson, no one is going to kick him on that, but can he knock off the smug look every time he says we’re fifty or so miles from Baghdad?”
Ari shot back. “No way man, he’s got to show that we’re there to kick ass and take names.”
I walked over to George’s desk and picked up the red phone while holding down the receiver notch. I winked at Ari, then pretended to be talking to General Myers ?Hey homey, launch some nucular bizzombs up in Saddam’s house and show him who the boss in this world is”.
Ari was laughing maniacally when I came back over to the couch and flopped down. I kicked my leg over the arm of the old Victorian sofa and knocked some ash onto the coffee table. I looked around to a picture of Jenna on the wall and pointed to it with the cigar.
“I’d hit that, but only after a couple shots”
Ari frowned a bit. “Only a couple?”
I broke into a giant grin when he said that. He has a way of acting uptight and dismissive in front of the press corps, but after a couple drinks, he’s actually pretty damn jocular and laid back. I suppose it helped that I slipped some Rohypnol into his rum and coke, but who knows, maybe it hadn’t kicked in yet. We talked a bit about how cool it is to see stuff getting blown up live on 24-hour news networks and that the best way to watch is to flip back and forth during explosions to get a proper 3D effect. Those bombs sure do rumble on a Dolby SurroundSound system when you crank up the bass.
After another drink, Ari got up and started walking towards the secret wall door and I picked up our glasses and followed. We walked past some Secret Service guy standing by the outside door who eyed me pretty hard like I was about to swipe the stapler off the the desk outside the door. I made a quick gesture like that was exactly what I was going to do, and when he moved to stop me I clipped him in the chin and laid him out on the Persian rug right outside of the Oval Office.
Ari apparently didn’t see any of this; he was already halfway down the hall and was starting to sway from side to side. I suppose the powder was finally having some effect on him. I ran down to catch up to him and asked him where we were going. He didn’t answer but was humming the chorus to Bombs over Baghdad over and over. Personally I’m not a very big fan of that song, but to see him doing it was kind of humorous. I followed him through some rather large banquet rooms, wondering where we were going and if even Ari knew where he was headed. For all I know he likes to aimlessly wander around the Whitehouse at four in the morning get naked in the Blue Room and pass out on the dinner table with a bottle of Cuervo in his clutches.
Such was not my luck this evening as we stopped abruptly at a bedroom door. I ran into his back seeing as I was eyeing a bust of Lincoln with a bra strapped on his head in some malformed imaged of Mickey Mouse. He knocked on the door and after a few moments of silence we heard some footsteps. The door opened to the figure of Jenna wearing a Texas A&M jersey that reached just to her thighs. She looked at Ari with a look of sleepy wonder and then at me, standing just behind him with a dopey drunken smile and two glasses of melting ice and alcohol.
“Who the fuck is this?” She snapped, and without pause. “Are you drunk?”
“I’m Stephen” I extended my hand forward before realizing I didn’t have and empty hand but a glass of rum and coke. She took the glass from me and smelled it’s contents, then drank it down greedily.
“Damn girl, that was Ari’s!” I bellowed.
Ari turned back to me with a sour look. “I’ll go make another one.”
“Bring the whole bottle, we’re going to kick it in here for a bit.” She said.
Jenna opened the door wider and I slipped in past her, intentionally brushing up against her and placing my hand flat against her back. She shut the door on Ari and we heard the thud thud thud of his feet as he stumbled down the hall. I walked over to where the bed was and sat down on the edge. There was faint light coming in through the window and I could see the Washington Monument in the distance, a fitting depiction of what I was experiencing at that moment. I looked around as my eyes adjusted and could make out a collection of teddy bears and pillows on a sofa against the wall. On a dresser I saw the biggest dildo I had ever laid eyes on in my life and thinking about something to say about it when Jenna came and sat down next to me. She took the other drink I was holding and slammed it back in a single gesture.
[Section removed due to explicit nature, and because seriously, do you really want to know about my
six ten humongous penis cock?]
I laid there with my chest beating in steady thumps, dragging on the Marlboro. I handed it back to Jenna and sat up, swinging my legs to the side of the bed. I walked to the door to see who had been knocking so impatiently. I put on the white robe with the POTUS seal on it and opened the door. Ari was leaning against Lincoln’s head with a bottle of rum in his hand and tracing a finger along the lace of the bra on the statue’s bust.
“What the fuck are you doing perv?” I laughed.
He snapped his hand back like a child who’s been slapped on the knuckles and looked at me with bewilderment.
“Get the hell in here; I think it may take a while longer to finish this one off.”
[Section removed due to explicit nature, actually it's been blocked from my memory after the traumatic experience of what I may or may not have done to Ari with that giant dildo.]
I woke up the next morning with sharp pains roaring through my head, for some reason that I didn’t recall my prostate felt incredibly sore and I had the overwhelming urge to piss. I had somehow made my way back to the Oval Office and passed out on the couch. I remember walking past the Secret Service guy again who was still out cold and kicking him square in the stomach, then vomiting on the Persian rug next to him. I hope someone found him like that in the morning and had him sent before a firing squad for some crazy Patriot Act charge. I got up and walked to the bathroom and sat down to do my morning business. There was a trail of vomit from the door to the sofa and some broken glass by George’s desk. I walked into the bathroom and threw my filthy robe into the sink since there was another one behind the door.
I sat there thinking for a bit that I was taking a shit in the same toilet that Kennedy and Clinton had done the same, and started to wonder where exactly Bill had stood when he was getting international blowjobs. I thought about whether he had ever convinced Monica to just go ahead and swallow it down instead of spitting it in the sink or onto her nice dress. I wondered why the hell no one noticed a giant jizz stain on her breast while she was working, wearing it like some patriotic pearl necklace of honor. I wondered why she had never bothered to wash it out.
I got up and flushed the toilet and was about to wash my hands and face when I noticed that my turd had not gone down and was spinning defiantly in the President’s toilet. I flushed it again and it spun around lazily, daring to go down, and then bobbing back up. Outside in the Oval Office, people were starting to come in and talk. I was getting frantic and figured that someone had already heard one flush and would get suspicious of more. I looked at the rogue turd slowly spinning; it had a slight curve to it that resembled a frown and one point and then a smile. I almost laughed at the image that this shit had become personified and was now laughing at me. I grabbed a toothbrush from the sink and began to jab at it and break it up, satisfied that it would go down, I flush for a final time and down it went, along with my anxiety.
I came out of the bathroom to see George, Colin, Don and Ari sitting at the couches with coffee mugs. Ari waved me to come over and handed me a cup of fresh brew. I sat down next to Don across from Ari and Colin. I self-consciously crossed my legs so as not to expose anyone to the sight of my package. Everyone else was wearing khakis and polo shirts and I was still in nothing but a bath robe. I waved to George at the end sitting in the Victorian parlor chair and he smiled.
George took a sip from his mug. “Colin, Donald, this is Stephen. He’s here as a political observer and I’m going to have him head the new Department of Obvious Observations. It’s a new radical idea that he came up with where we’re going to start keeping the public informed of everything we do, in an open and honest manner. He’ll act as the liaison to both Houses to keep them informed and make sure that we stay fiscally responsible to the public.”
“No shit? Are we changing any of our plans as far as the New American Century project? Wha…” Don asked.
I cut him off. “Of course not, we’re actually going to make sure that Americans are better informed of it. Once we get the public to understand that neo-imperialism and direct confrontation against unfriendly foreign states is in their best interest, and in the interest of their 401K, we’ll surely get George here re-elected in ’04”.
“Do you think they’ll buy into this?” Colin asked.
I picked up a blue folder that was lying on the table and a black marker. I drew a giant dollar sign on the front of it and put it back down on the table.
“This is what American’s vote for. They want the government to take care of them but they don’t want to pay for it. Let’s not beat around the bush.” I glanced at George. “Pardon the expression. Anyways, we can stop mincing words here because anyone with half a brain knows that this is Socialism, everyone wants the benefits but none of the drawbacks. Well, the New American Century promises just that, the benefits. Now the problem is that Americans, specifically middle income to upper income Americans, will get the most out of this. Or rather that’s what we have to tell them. So we have to get everyone into a Nationalist patriotic fever so that the peaceniks will no longer impede the project.”
Ari bolted forward in protest. “National Socialism? There’s no way in hell we could sell Nazism to the American public.”
“Of course not, that’s why we just keep calling it Democracy, the average Joe Blue-collar doesn’t really know what Democracy is anyways. In fact, if we just call our enemies ‘Hitler’ and the like, people will probably go along with it.”
Colin, who was sipping on his coffee, spewed it out at Don, covering him in a fine spray of mochaccino mist, like a fountain of fecal material had magically poured forth.
“WHAT THE HELL!” Screamed Don.
“I’m sorry, but how is this any different from what we’re already doing?” Colin asked.
“Well, the difference is that you guys forgot to include the American public in the profit side of this project.”
“So do you think this is feasible?” I asked.
“You’re hired.” George said. “Let?s go play some golf and decide who to take out after Saddam, I know Il Jong has surely been a pain in the ass, we could probably trash the authority of NATO at the same time.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” I said.
“Stay tuned next week when Colin goes before the UN and tells them they need to send food to Iraq even though we started the war… Ari pukes all over a CNN reporter… Stephen prank calls Tom Ridge from George’s office… and Puck from MTV’s real world makes a guest appearance, and eats everything in sight”
Real Politicians. Uncensored. Real Whitehouse. Monday nights at 8PM EST, only on MSNBC, FoxNews, CNN. Jesus, it’s fucking on everywhere.