Story: Bill Clinton and Joe

“Promising too much can be as cruel as caring too little.” — Bill Clinton

“Bill Clinton and Joe”

A short story by Catxman

. . . . . . . The limo broke down on I-78. Bill was heading to Pennsylvania to give a speech when it happened. He cursed and swore most un-presidentially. Standing on the shoulder of the highway, his gray hair whipped in the wind. Bill Clinton pointed at the tire. “There’s the problem, Joe,” he drawled, talking to the Secret Service man. “Somebody put a caltrop on the roadway. Huh. How about that. I thought those things were only in TV shows.”

. . . . . . . Joe rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I think we should take the Clinton bus,” he finally said.

. . . . . . . Clinton looked horrified. “But that’s expensive!”

. . . . . . . “So’re your haircuts, but you keep getting them.”

. . . . . . . “You know, there’s a financial term for taking a loss. It’s called getting a haircut.” Clinton laughed. He clapped a hand on Joe’s back. “Alright, let’s get that bus.”

. . . . . . . In Union Township, Bill Clinton adjusted his glasses and looked out over the crowd. It was a mostly middle-aged bunch. And white. Bill sighed. It seemed like African-Americans couldn’t care less about him these days. Bill had a Republican friend who said it was because Bill couldn’t offer them gimmedats anymore. Bill was outraged. That’s not true! he said. They’re just … busy, he finished lamely.

. . . . . . . Now he adjusted his papers in both hands. He riffled through his notes until he found the naked picture of Hillary. He shuddered in alarm. This had been Hillary’s idea. Get back to me as soon as you can. That way, the speeches stay short. It was a major failing of Bill’s that his speeches ran long. If he was drawn to Hillary, the speech would go fast. The problem was, Hillary wasn’t 21 anymore. Her body was like a punctured waterbed, lumpy on both ends and all the lubrication gone. She was as sexual as a red ladybug.

. . . . . . . When he started speaking, he knew things were going well. He soon began to enjoy himself. As a sign of that enjoyment, he improvised in several places, and got decent applause three times out of four. Sure, he flubbed it occasionally. But that was part of life. In general, the speech went smashingly. When he stepped off the stage and mopped his forehead, Joe was beaming at him. “Excellent job, Mr. President!” Joe exclaimed.

. . . . . . . “Thank you, Joe,” Bill drawled. “But it wasn’t perfect.”

. . . . . . . “We’re mortal, sir. Perfection isn’t in the cards.”

. . . . . . . “But I want to be perfect,” Bill complained. “Is that bus still outside? Or have some taggers vandalized it by now?”

. . . . . . . “I have two guards stationed by it. Sabotage is an ever-present worry.”

. . . . . . . “Is it, Joe? Is it?”

. . . . . . . “Of course, sir. Someone could duck in and put a bomb on board. Someone could slash the tires, sending us careening into traffic.”

. . . . . . . “There’s always ‘someone,’ isn’t there,” Bill murmured.

. . . . . . . “It’s a dangerous world,” Joe said grimly. “By the way, speaking of dangerous, how’s Hillary?”

. . . . . . . “Angry,” Bill sighed. He cracked his knuckles. “She’s always one pissed off hombre.”

. . . . . . . “Hombre’s a man, sir.”

. . . . . . . “I know what I said and meant what I said.”

. . . . . . . The two men grinned. Joe and Bill turned and began walking for the bus. Joe gestured. “Do you ever wonder about your legacy, sir?”

. . . . . . . “All the time. It’s like smoking cigarettes: I’m trying to quit.”

. . . . . . . “You’ll do just fine in the rankings, sir. You got all those baby mommas off welfare. You put 100,000 cops on the streets.”

. . . . . . . “I paved the way for Osama bin Laden.”

. . . . . . . “Oh, now, you’re being too harsh.”

. . . . . . . The bus door accordioned open. The parking lot was vast, and only half-filled. At this late date in affairs, Bill’s drawing power was limited.

. . . . . . . “After you,” Joe waved his hand in toward the bus.

. . . . . . . “Thank you, Joe.” Bill stopped, one foot up on the second step. “Joe? Do you still have that flask of whiskey?”

. . . . . . . Joe grinned. “Jack Daniel’s, sir. Never leave home without it.”

. . . . . . . “Share it with me, will you?”

. . . . . . . “That I will, Mr. President. That I will.”

Fin

8 thoughts on “Story: Bill Clinton and Joe

    1. It must hurt to try so hard again and again; to get in the Senate as the Senator from New York; to deal with all the party bullshit during and before the Primaries; and then, just when you’ve won the popular vote, to have it all snatched from you by a technicality of the rules called the Electoral College.

      Too bad, Hillary. Your career in politics is finished. We won’t miss you.

        1. *grinning* When the marketing machine goes into overdrive, it’s hard to resist it. *throws up hands and shrugs my long flowing locks of hair* That goes double for Rodham Clinton.

          (She dropped the “Rodham” because pollsters told her she was losing 1-2% of the vote by being a feminist cunt.)

    1. Thanks mucho, John. (I’m assuming it’s John; hope I got that right.) It’s mostly a dialogue piece of work, and I’m leery of too much dialogue in short stories, but that one seemed to bear the load okay. Thanks again.

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