HNIC

I would rather write about aliens with crab lice or archery instead of politics. However, it seems like my next story involves a former president who retreats to his south american lair to do various acts of nastiness and evil. This story is in development because the president in question has bought a vast tract of land in Ecuador recently. File that under "no, really,no shit".
W has also told everybody that anyone who subpoenas anyone the white house should just roll that piece of paper up and shove it up their own ass for all the good it will do them. A brave stance. A real man of principles.

He has also said " the constitution is just a goddamned piece of paper". Hell yeah.



Well, scene one is in a vast south american villa. Exterior , gleaming white walls, red tile. broken bottles on top of thick fortifications. There is a perfectly manicured expanse of green lawn with little hillocks breaking the smooth surface. There is a sign in spanish and english in the foreground with a skull and crossbones in the foreground that reminds the viewer to turn off the minefield before doing any outside maintainence. Pan over the whole scene. There are guards lounging around in black BDU's with super modern bullpup assault rifles.

Interior scene. This is a room decorated in a mixture of splendor and disarray like the home of a successful pirate. There are three bigscreen tv's and works of art that have been shot through and or vandalized with sharpies. on he center of a long mahogany table there is a huge golden cup with a longhorn logo on it. in heavy silver letters on the big rim it reads "HNIC"

Enter the President, he is wearing khakis and a brilliant white wifebeater shirt. on his feet, he has flip flops. His hair is tousled. He has a bottle of scotch in his hand. He has a bluetooth earpiece and he is talking to someone on the phone. He is flustered and keeps bringing the bottle up to take a drink and then he gets irritated by the person on the other end and lowers it.

Pres: " Hey...I know what you're going through...but...no just give it to them and
do what you can.... NO NO NO!!! Stop thinking like a bitch. It's fucking plutonium,
..as far as they know."

He puts his hand up and shuts of the phone. He takes a little sip of the scotch.
enter dick cheney on an electric scooter wheelchair. He has an oxygen tube in his nose.

Pres: (happy to see him) Pops! what the hell. You need to stay in bed.
Dick: No, I'm fine. The people here live clean and I can really feel the difference.
Pres: Shit man, I ought to start selling hearts on the open market.
Dick: I'll order a dozen...as needed.

Dick turns on the big screen with his remote.
Jerry Springer is on..

( to be continued)