![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cimorene4:20 pm.
my wife laura came into my office in her pink nightie and one of those little quilted masks that women like to put over their eyes. i don't know why they do that. says it helps her sleep. of course she wasn't wearing it actually on her eyes, so she could walk. she said to me, 'georgie,' she said, 'i think i'm going to bed now. i have a headache.' laura has headaches a lot. she has a high-stress job now as the first lady. i let her give me two little kisses on the cheek even though she knows how i hate lipstick. sometimes, you just have to let a woman have her way. 'maybe i'll see you tomorrow,' she said, and went away to her room. she has a whole suite in the residence.
5:01 pm.
i was still at work. even though it was after five. pretty wild, huh? dickie says the leader of the free world has to work hard. i guess he's right. doesn't seem like i do a lot more work than he does though. i'm surrounded by good hardworking people. lot of hardworking people out there. i'm just more important than a lot of them, but what can you do.
5:06 pm.
don rumsfeld came into the office. said he had some papers for me to read, so i took a look at them. right away, first thing, i mean just right off the bat, what do i see on that damned piece of paper but disingenuous, disavowing, defenestrate or some kinda word like that. i looked back up at don real quick. "you said i have to read this, donny?" that's what dickie and i like to call don sometimes. donny. he doesn't mind.
"yes sir," donny said, "this is a security report on the--" i don't listen to stuff like that too much, something about bahrain or india or something like that. if it's important they'll tell me later. "and we'll need the president's signature."
"now donny," i said, "you're going to defenestrate tazjikistan. or you're not. now, you need my signature, sure, i've got my pen right here." i pointed to my pen. it's a real nice pen, came with the office. lot of nice things in here. big old liquor cabinet. "but do i have to read this?"
"ah," said donny, not too bad, not bad. he got it. fiddled with his collar a bit. sometimes i make him nervous--dickie too. dickie says not to worry about it, though, donny has his job to do and he'll do it. "no, sir. i don't believe all the details are necessary."
5:11 pm.
the phone rang. took me five minutes to find out it was a telemarketer. damn telemarketers getting sneakier and sneakier. said they were from my credit card company. and now they're sending me email too.
5:33 pm.
dickie called me on his way over to the office. "now don't panic, dub, i'll be right there," he said. he sounded all worried, but dickie's like that sometimes.
"okay."
5:40 pm.
dickie finally showed up. i had a drink in the meantime. a man can't be kept waiting around like this. "do you want me to do this?" he said, first thing. he was just standing in the door near as i could see.
"do what now, dickie?" i asked. "would you care for a drink?"
he got his own drink. "don't tell me they haven't told you the news yet?"
"well, ari came by this morning and i had my briefing, and then donny was in here a while ago with something to sign for about tazjikistan i think--or maybe it was india--"
"no, dub," dickie said gently in our special voice, and put his drink down on the edge of my desk. "the news."
uhoh. i guess they hadn't told me the news. "am i in trouble?" i said. i didn't know if i was supposed to ask for the news or what. didn't think so, but mabe i forgot.
dickie came around the edge of the desk and started petting my hair. i love it when he does that. "no no," he said. "well, you're not in trouble, but we have a problem." usually when dickie says that he means he has a problem. "saddam hussein challenged you to a duel today. now the way i see it, we have two choices. either you can go to the duel and i'll be your second, or i can do it for you." now i was starting to get scared when dickie was asking me at all. i mean usually with something big and important like this he tells me what's the right thing to do.
"dickie," i said, "i don't understand why you're asking me this! why don't you just pick the one that--"
"now listen, dub," he said, and moved around to rub my neck a little. i love when he rubs my neck. "you have to listen here. the bad thing about choice #1--if you go fight, see--is that you might get hurt. i'd be right there, but you could get killed. but the bad thing about choice #2, if i go, is that i might get killed."
"but i wouldn't be there?"
"no. well, i guess you could be there--we might be able to work it so that--but no."
i thought about that. "i don't really like this idea of you going by yourself now, dickie."
"think about the other part, george." when he calls me george something's the matter, so i looked up at him real quick. he had his glasses off sitting on my desk and his tie all loose and his face looked kinda red. dickie was real upset. i patted his hand.
"the part about getting killed, you mean," i said. "well, i can't get killed, can i? i mean that's what the secret service is for."
then dickie had to explain about duels to me.
6:20 pm.
dickie didn't think it was a good idea to continue our discussion in the oval office so we went up to our room in the residence. well, i guess really it's MY room because dickie has his own house. there's a whole house with a gate and everything for the vice president. i've seen some parties there before. it's a pretty nice place--not as nice as the rose garden though. for one thing, not as many roses.
so i got into my pajamas and dickie got into his and brushed his teeth and all and then we were sitting in the bed with the lamps on. dickie had to hold my hand. "i know this is hard, dub," he said. to tell the truth? i think it was really hard for him.
i scratched my head. "it wouldn't be very nice to die, would it. or dickie--" this had just occured to me then, i mean JUST then--"what if you died instead? but you were in the army!"
dickie said he probably wouldn't die. but he couldn't be sure. damned politics, that's what i hate about this job, you can never be sure of anything. you've got your farmer or your rancher in texas, and he's got a ranch. and he worries about his cows, or his goats, or his corn or what have you. his tobacco. and if nothing else he is SURE of that tobacco. but when you got the whole WORLD instead of just a farm you can never be sure of anything.
i slid down in the bed and dickie covered my face up with his sleeve. he has real nice pajamas, something real soft and blue. i think they're silk. nice. "so what should we do? i mean, if... if you might die one way and i might die the other way..."
i think dickie was shaking his head. he must have moved because then his voice was closer to my ear. "dub, i wish i knew what to tell you." his voice was all strange and uneven, so i looked up. i couldn't believe it. dickie was crying? "but there's no good choice."
those are words dickie has never said to me before. there is no good choice. they're words i don't like to hear. "we have to make a choice, dickie."
"we do, dub," he said, and kissed the top of my head, and he just kept crying.
my wife laura came into my office in her pink nightie and one of those little quilted masks that women like to put over their eyes. i don't know why they do that. says it helps her sleep. of course she wasn't wearing it actually on her eyes, so she could walk. she said to me, 'georgie,' she said, 'i think i'm going to bed now. i have a headache.' laura has headaches a lot. she has a high-stress job now as the first lady. i let her give me two little kisses on the cheek even though she knows how i hate lipstick. sometimes, you just have to let a woman have her way. 'maybe i'll see you tomorrow,' she said, and went away to her room. she has a whole suite in the residence.
5:01 pm.
i was still at work. even though it was after five. pretty wild, huh? dickie says the leader of the free world has to work hard. i guess he's right. doesn't seem like i do a lot more work than he does though. i'm surrounded by good hardworking people. lot of hardworking people out there. i'm just more important than a lot of them, but what can you do.
5:06 pm.
don rumsfeld came into the office. said he had some papers for me to read, so i took a look at them. right away, first thing, i mean just right off the bat, what do i see on that damned piece of paper but disingenuous, disavowing, defenestrate or some kinda word like that. i looked back up at don real quick. "you said i have to read this, donny?" that's what dickie and i like to call don sometimes. donny. he doesn't mind.
"yes sir," donny said, "this is a security report on the--" i don't listen to stuff like that too much, something about bahrain or india or something like that. if it's important they'll tell me later. "and we'll need the president's signature."
"now donny," i said, "you're going to defenestrate tazjikistan. or you're not. now, you need my signature, sure, i've got my pen right here." i pointed to my pen. it's a real nice pen, came with the office. lot of nice things in here. big old liquor cabinet. "but do i have to read this?"
"ah," said donny, not too bad, not bad. he got it. fiddled with his collar a bit. sometimes i make him nervous--dickie too. dickie says not to worry about it, though, donny has his job to do and he'll do it. "no, sir. i don't believe all the details are necessary."
5:11 pm.
the phone rang. took me five minutes to find out it was a telemarketer. damn telemarketers getting sneakier and sneakier. said they were from my credit card company. and now they're sending me email too.
5:33 pm.
dickie called me on his way over to the office. "now don't panic, dub, i'll be right there," he said. he sounded all worried, but dickie's like that sometimes.
"okay."
5:40 pm.
dickie finally showed up. i had a drink in the meantime. a man can't be kept waiting around like this. "do you want me to do this?" he said, first thing. he was just standing in the door near as i could see.
"do what now, dickie?" i asked. "would you care for a drink?"
he got his own drink. "don't tell me they haven't told you the news yet?"
"well, ari came by this morning and i had my briefing, and then donny was in here a while ago with something to sign for about tazjikistan i think--or maybe it was india--"
"no, dub," dickie said gently in our special voice, and put his drink down on the edge of my desk. "the news."
uhoh. i guess they hadn't told me the news. "am i in trouble?" i said. i didn't know if i was supposed to ask for the news or what. didn't think so, but mabe i forgot.
dickie came around the edge of the desk and started petting my hair. i love it when he does that. "no no," he said. "well, you're not in trouble, but we have a problem." usually when dickie says that he means he has a problem. "saddam hussein challenged you to a duel today. now the way i see it, we have two choices. either you can go to the duel and i'll be your second, or i can do it for you." now i was starting to get scared when dickie was asking me at all. i mean usually with something big and important like this he tells me what's the right thing to do.
"dickie," i said, "i don't understand why you're asking me this! why don't you just pick the one that--"
"now listen, dub," he said, and moved around to rub my neck a little. i love when he rubs my neck. "you have to listen here. the bad thing about choice #1--if you go fight, see--is that you might get hurt. i'd be right there, but you could get killed. but the bad thing about choice #2, if i go, is that i might get killed."
"but i wouldn't be there?"
"no. well, i guess you could be there--we might be able to work it so that--but no."
i thought about that. "i don't really like this idea of you going by yourself now, dickie."
"think about the other part, george." when he calls me george something's the matter, so i looked up at him real quick. he had his glasses off sitting on my desk and his tie all loose and his face looked kinda red. dickie was real upset. i patted his hand.
"the part about getting killed, you mean," i said. "well, i can't get killed, can i? i mean that's what the secret service is for."
then dickie had to explain about duels to me.
6:20 pm.
dickie didn't think it was a good idea to continue our discussion in the oval office so we went up to our room in the residence. well, i guess really it's MY room because dickie has his own house. there's a whole house with a gate and everything for the vice president. i've seen some parties there before. it's a pretty nice place--not as nice as the rose garden though. for one thing, not as many roses.
so i got into my pajamas and dickie got into his and brushed his teeth and all and then we were sitting in the bed with the lamps on. dickie had to hold my hand. "i know this is hard, dub," he said. to tell the truth? i think it was really hard for him.
i scratched my head. "it wouldn't be very nice to die, would it. or dickie--" this had just occured to me then, i mean JUST then--"what if you died instead? but you were in the army!"
dickie said he probably wouldn't die. but he couldn't be sure. damned politics, that's what i hate about this job, you can never be sure of anything. you've got your farmer or your rancher in texas, and he's got a ranch. and he worries about his cows, or his goats, or his corn or what have you. his tobacco. and if nothing else he is SURE of that tobacco. but when you got the whole WORLD instead of just a farm you can never be sure of anything.
i slid down in the bed and dickie covered my face up with his sleeve. he has real nice pajamas, something real soft and blue. i think they're silk. nice. "so what should we do? i mean, if... if you might die one way and i might die the other way..."
i think dickie was shaking his head. he must have moved because then his voice was closer to my ear. "dub, i wish i knew what to tell you." his voice was all strange and uneven, so i looked up. i couldn't believe it. dickie was crying? "but there's no good choice."
those are words dickie has never said to me before. there is no good choice. they're words i don't like to hear. "we have to make a choice, dickie."
"we do, dub," he said, and kissed the top of my head, and he just kept crying.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 5 Oct 2002 11:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 5 Oct 2002 11:40 pm (UTC)It's like a car wreck!
Date: 6 Oct 2002 01:15 am (UTC)*stares, aghast, in horrified awe*
Jebus, Cim, you've managed to top me for Sickest Pairing Ever. I have to go gouge out my eyes and puke for the next twelve or so hours now...
Re: It's like a car wreck!
Date: 6 Oct 2002 05:59 am (UTC)I'M EVIL!
muahahahahhahaah!
Re:
Date: 6 Oct 2002 06:01 am (UTC)muahahhaha. MUAHAHAH. ahahaHAHAHAHAHAHA--
Re:
Date: 6 Oct 2002 06:03 am (UTC)HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA.
(no subject)
Date: 6 Oct 2002 06:20 am (UTC)You're evil. It's beautiful.
Date: 6 Oct 2002 08:03 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 6 Oct 2002 08:07 am (UTC)..and to think i was still up when you posted this...
Date: 6 Oct 2002 09:42 am (UTC)you realize, of course, that you will be incessantly badgered to produce more of the ongoing saga (perhaps that's not the correct word, since you are the one baiting the badgers :)
allow me to be one of the first: badger, badger, badger...
Re:
Date: 6 Oct 2002 10:09 am (UTC)Thank you.
Re: It's like a car wreck!
Date: 6 Oct 2002 10:26 am (UTC)So, what was YOUR sick pairing? :D
Re: ..and to think i was still up when you posted this...
Date: 6 Oct 2002 10:43 am (UTC)but god, i hope there will be no more. x.x
Re: You're evil. It's beautiful.
Date: 6 Oct 2002 10:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 6 Oct 2002 12:27 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 6 Oct 2002 02:05 pm (UTC)i know, i know.
MUAHAHHAHAHAA.
Re: It's like a car wreck!
Date: 6 Oct 2002 02:59 pm (UTC)cause a ghetto house (^.^) is a real house.
Re: It's like a car wreck!
Date: 6 Oct 2002 07:38 pm (UTC)Uhhh... with the disclaimer that it's a satire, it's... er... blossomandbuttercupfrompowerpuffgirls
*weeps bitter tears*
Re: It's like a car wreck!
Date: 7 Oct 2002 05:48 am (UTC)It is official...
Date: 8 Oct 2002 08:21 pm (UTC)Gah.
Re: It is official...
Date: 9 Oct 2002 04:09 am (UTC)Love it!
Date: 14 Oct 2002 11:49 pm (UTC)Re: Love it!
Date: 15 Oct 2002 05:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 4 Jan 2003 12:32 pm (UTC)Judith
Re:
Date: 5 Jan 2003 04:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 5 Jan 2003 08:05 pm (UTC)Judith
Re:
Date: 6 Jan 2003 06:42 am (UTC)college didn't precisely agree with me, through no fault of its own, so i will be taking academic leave and trying to finish an original novel i started last semester... . did you know
and, on another note, do you know anything about the mostly-dead k/s round robin? ellen was thinking we should pick it apart for salvage, but i can't even find the draft online anymore.
cim
(no subject)
Date: 6 Jan 2003 06:51 am (UTC)Yes, I knew Ellen Fremedon and Laura JV have livejournals -- I put them on my friends list. Glad to hear about your novel -- I will look forward to reading it when it's published.
The KSRR hasn't officially been abandaoned -- Starluck came back from a serious illness and a long time away from the world and very much wants to finish. I'm hopeful we can get it moving again. I have a big report for a federal agency hanging over my head that I must finish, and then back to fandom, I hope.
Judith
Re:
Date: 9 Jan 2003 06:26 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 6 Oct 2008 06:35 pm (UTC)OMG.