The U.S. Senate building, Washington, D.C. Late night. A summer rainstorm slashing against windows.
THE AIDE: You did a beautiful job in the New Hampshire debate—
THE SENATOR: Tell me something I don’t know. Could you believe the way those ninnies fell all over themselves to say nice things about Bill? Every time they do, they shine my knob, because I’ve got Bill in my pocket. If only they knew about my plan to send Bill around the country on his own campaign plane—between us we’ll be like Jet fucking Blue. Now Edwards—Edwards can blow me. Have we got anything on him yet?
THE AIDE: Afraid not. The punk’s clean. Loves the wife, stays away from booze, loves God—
THE SENATOR: Yeah, yeah, yeah—I’ve yet to meet a man who’s 100 percent pussy-proof—look who I married! Haw haw haw! Let’s just make sure the hotel on Edwards’ next campaign stop is dripping with hookers—I don’t care what it costs—put one in his fucking room like a pillow mint, for all I care. He’s becoming an inconvenience—
THE AIDE: In better news, I think our tactic of leaking the Gerth and Bernstein books the Friday before Memorial Day worked—the book became a two-day story.
THE SENATOR: Yep. I’m still worried about Maureen Dowd. I’d love to bend her over an armchair with a ball gag in her mouth ….
THE AIDE: We’ve detected some of the opposing camps are planning to hit you with your health care … thing … from ’93.
THE SENATOR: Well, it’s good to have them off on this wild hare thing, because whenever they bug us on Iraq, we’re fucked.
THE AIDE: Umm … yes, of course … O.K., well, the rumors of a Gore-Obama ticket are pretty thick on the ground. Some of our biggest New Yorkers are holding on to their wallets until Gore decides.
THE SENATOR: O.K. So he wants to play with Big Momma, does he? Well, let the games begin, Al. He better keep losing weight, because he has no idea of the hurt I will put on him …. if he thinks greenhouse gasses are unpleasant, he ain’t seen nothin’ yet.
THE AIDE: A USA Today poll shows Obama has pulled even ….
THE SENATOR: What the fuck is wrong with the Democratic Party? Don’t they realize I’m going to be the nominee? That I deserve it? Do they really think I’m going to sit idly by and watch anyone overtake me in the primary? Don’t they realize what I’m capable of? Knowing who I am, do they really think I would hesitate to use all of my power to get myself back in the White House? Don’t they realize this will go easier for them if they let me win the nomination? Meanwhile—have you taken care of the Chappaqua chippie? I don’t want her back in the country until December 2008. Got it? Now stop whimpering and bring me some Gummibärchen ….
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