Category: Reality Fiction
Reality Fiction: The Retirement of a President
Laura was sitting at her desk in the study, re-reading the last page she had just typed into the computer when George came sulking in. They'd been back in Crawford less than a week since that freezing cold day on the Capitol Building steps as they'd watched Barack Obama take the oath as President.
So far, George hadn't been taking retirement too well, and for Laura, he'd been a real pain in the ass. For the last two days, Laura had been trying to start writing her memoirs, but hadn't gotten past page six because she kept getting interrupted by this spoiled ten-year-old in a grown man's body.
Reality Fiction: Preparing for the Debate, Part II
Barack sat on the wide porch of the leased East Hampton security compound the evening before his last debate with John McCain.
Two Secret Service agents were at the entrance gate opening to a quarter-mile cinder and packed dirt driveway, with two more agents patrolling on ATB’s out along the Long Island beachfront, one guarding the car, and two inside the house. Michelle was in the kitchen with the girls, cleaning up after making a batch of fresh chocolate chip cookies. Through the open window Barack could smell the aroma of the melting chocolate and browning cookie dough, and he could hear her humming in a rich alto voice. Barack smiled when he recognized the song, and he mouthed the words in his mind.
“All we are say-ay-ing, is give peace a chance.”
Reality Fiction: McCain prepares for his final debate
John sat in his suite at the Montauk Yacht Club and thought about that old lady at his rally that had called that bastard Obama an “Arab”. He couldn’t let her say those filthy things about his opponent, hell no, no matter how much he hated his guts. He would stick up for that sonofabitch, he was a fighter against people calling other people Arabs when they were really Christians, at least on paper. And it didn't matter who said he was wrong, he fought tooth and nail, because he was the “Maverick”.
The crowd bursts into cheers, and then everybody pats him on the back, on the way into the White House.
John woke up with a start, and realized he had dozed off again. Those damn economics were so boring compared to war stories and military strategy. It took only about ten minutes, and he’d be out, dreaming about the glory, that eternal Parade Rest.
Reality Fiction: Sarah Palin meets world leaders
Sarah sat in the limo, and watched the streets of New York City pass by. “What in the love of Jesus’ name am I doing here?” she thought. The sight of a tall man on the sidewalk with big ears and a huge nose reminded her of the last moose she had bagged in mid-August.
Reality Fiction: Sarah Palin prepares for first national TV interview
Sarah sat at her vanity in her Governor’s suite at 716 Calhoun Ave daydreaming. Number One Observatory Circle had a nice ring to it she thought, and then decided she would have to fumigate the place after the Cheney’s left, but that was a job for the little people, those sorry minimum-wagers. She gazed at her large, round, brown eyes in the mirror, looked around the glare in her designer lenses, and her mind wandered back to 1984 when she had come in third in the Miss Alaska Pageant. She had been announced as the 2nd Runner-up, but in her mind, that had meant only one thing, third place. She knew she had been the prettiest one there, but she had lost to those other two heathen sluts, and it still hurt. Miss Congeniality my ass.
Reality Fiction: McCain watches Obama's acceptance speech
John sat in front of his 58 inch high-definition flat panel television, but he wasn’t enjoying the crisp, clear picture. His opponent’s head was so big on the screen, it was as if the guy was sitting on his lap, and gazing right into his eyes. But even worse than his eyes, were the guy’s lips, perfectly formed purplish slices of flesh that complimented his cocoa brown skin. They drew into a conservative smile every time he mentioned either John McCain or George Bush, but John knew the real truth, there wasn’t a conservative bone in this guy’s café-au-lait body, and that’s why John couldn’t stand him. “Lying bastard.” He said out loud.
The camera’s panned to the candidate’s wife and two young daughters in the audience. John thought. “Private school brats.”
Reality Fiction: Bush's China visit
“Damn it was hot in there.” George slumped in the leather seats of the diplomatic Mercedes Benz limo he had gotten on loan from the Chinese Government. He looked at the floor suspiciously, tensed, and then relaxed as he remembered the Secret Service had had the car for twenty-four hours. They had checked it out with a flea comb. He adjusted his air vent so it blew right on his face. “It was goddamned hot in there.”
“Oh it wasn’t that bad, George, stop complaining, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Christ Laura, it was hotter than a Texas taco.”
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