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Monday, July 30, 2007

Busy Weekend

I awoke that Monday morning from a fitful half-sleep, my dreams infiltrated by a half-naked, all-stoned Lindsay Lohan begging me, over and over, to stop teasing her and chew her Bubblicious until it's soft enough for her to take without making her gums begin to bleed. I opened my eyes to wondrous relief; the supermodels I had acquired over the weekend were still sleeping soundly, their heads resting against my vast chest, which rippled even with my softest breath.

I met them, Annakannaa and Rosarita, the previous Saturday night while I dined with the former White House Senior Advisor Karl Rove and the renowned actor, Michael J. Fox. It turns out the ladies are fans of my writing, and had been searching for almost a month in random restaurants in the hopes of meeting and making athletic love to me. Their quest seemed like so much folly; they had never even seen a picture of me, but somehow they both knew that they would recognize me if they were lucky enough to catch a glimpse. They were right. The perfect masculinity that screams forth in my prose is personified in my touched by the angels countenance. They approached our table to the envy of every man and woman in the place. Mr. Rove even cast a jealous eye, but I'm not sure if it was because I had them or they had me. After introductions in their variations of broken English, I offered the ladies each a seat on either side of me, and we returned to our dinners.

The ladies stared dreamily at me as Michael J. Fox, Mr. Rove, and I continued our discussion about their new role lobbying for proposed legislation that would legalize, in some cases, embryonic stem cell research. The plan is to gather stem cells from embryos produced by intercourse between death-row inmates. The conservative argument is that these are not actual human lives, since they will only be created under strict regulation by the government, and it will allow death row inmates something to work toward, since they will only be allowed to participate in the program through exhibited good behavior.

"But wouldn't it be difficult to create enough embryos for the needed research, given the greater percentage of men on death row than women?" I asked Rove.

"That is true right now,"he replied, "But we are currently working on legislation at the states' level that would increase the penalties for certain crimes, like abortion."

"But since abortion is legal, wouldn't it be difficult to get the death penalty?" I asked.

"Murder is murder," he replied,"I think with the right juries we can use that angle to increase participation in the program. We are also looking at dog-fighting as a death penalty offense."

"That brings to mind another question, Mr. Rove. Is there any truth to the rumor that some of the embryos will be turned over to the military for the creation of a proposed 'clone army?'" I asked, "I only ask because you mentioned dog fighting, and it seems like Mike Vick would make a great Universal Soldier."

"I agree Mr. Vick would make a great Sci-Fi hero of any kind, but, no, there is no truth to that rumor. We simply believe that it would be easy to get the death penalty for people who mistreat animals. PETA is a powerful group." Rove said.

"But isn't there a concern that in making dog-fighting a death penalty offense, we might see an increase in the overall dog population? It has been my understanding that these dog-fighting operations, while illegal, are working to keep dog numbers in check," I pointed out, "Nobody wants another "dog-flu" scare."

"We are aware of the dangers," Rove replied, "According to Fox News, nearly two people have died worldwide from "dog-flu", one of whom had a friend whose neighbor once traveled to the US."

"That's scary," I shuddered.

"Yes," Rove said, "It's very close to home. That's why it is important to get this measure passed. This research is vital in finding a cure for this type of disease. And the CDC has already identified other potential pandemics that could affect this country in the near future, such as the "porcupine cold and cough" and the "chimpanzee sprained ankle"."

"Good God," I said, "The facts are horrifying."

"That's why making dog fighting a death row crime could be useful," Rove went on, "With sexy celebrities like Mike Vick involved, more women are likely to be arrested in dog fight raids. And we really could use more females on death row."

"So the number one concern for the program is getting more women involved?" I asked.

"Yes, I would say so," Rove replied, "With such a disparity in numbers, the male inmates are already grumbling about sloppy seconds."

"Men on death row are worried about sloppy seconds?" I asked.

"That's right," he said, "they're a cleaner people than you might think."

I looked at Michael J. Fox and he seemed to be nodding. Or shaking his head. Or both, I really couldn't tell. Rove was definitely a man of vision. It seemed that the liberals and conservatives had finally found some common ground. I had my story and my 32 ounce steak was gone, so I took a girl under each arm and excused myself. As we were walking out of the restaurant I felt a tiny, soft hand grasp my shoulder. Instinctively, I twirled around, extracting myself from the girls' embraces and extending a powerful arm toward my attacker, firmly clutching him vise-like by the throat. It was Rove.

"I-I'm sorry," he gasped, "You forgot your notes." I quickly released him and he handed me my notebook.

"My apologies," I said, mildly embarrassed, "You startled me." I found myself somewhat impressed that he was still conscious. Lesser men have been rendered comatose by my hand. But this bald, pudgy, troll-like little man was unharmed.

"You know, Karl," I said, handing him my business card, "I've been looking for a new assistant. Someone to help with my schedule, perhaps do some light housework and gardening. Occasionally I drink vast amounts of alcohol and ingest large quantities of narcotics and sometimes I may soil myself, wherein you would need to undress and clean me before seeing me to bed. The usual stuff, but I haven't found the right person. If the lobbying gig doesn't work out, give me a call."

"Hmm," Rove said, "How much does it pay?"

"The salary is modest," I answered, "more than the Guatemalan cook but less than the Chinese masseuse. But what I can offer you is unlimited power and intellectual stimulation. And your own parking space. Plus, your room will have Dish Network. It's the basic package, but if after ninety days your job performance is satisfactory, we'll look at getting you HBO."

Rove stood silently for a moment, lost in thought. He looked back at the table where Michael J. Fox sat alone. Then, looking back to me, he extended his hand.

"You've got yourself an assistant," he said, as he gestured back to Fox, "I am sure he can handle the lobbying by himself. But I fear he may have a drinking problem."

"I didn't want to mention it," I said, "His head seemed to be spinning all evening." I looked at Fox and shook my head.

"Oh well," I said, "Welcome aboard!"

We shook hands enthusiastically and parted ways. I had a feeling about Rove. The little man had spunk. As I rode with the ladies back to my estate, my thoughts were elsewhere. It felt as though a new chapter was opening in my life, and I knew Rove would be the catalyst that would help me along my path toward creating the greatest story ever written.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Donny Bikini here....good stuff...check your email !


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