Run for Your Life
Glenn Michael Beckmann puked again, then sat down in the grass. In all the excitement of the last couple of weeks--including his failed attempt to blow up the Rally to Restore Sanity yesterday to impress former girlfriend Christine O'Donnell (with the defective underwear bomb he left in the port-a-potty)--he had completely forgotten to train for the Marine Corps Marathon. A volunteer approached him with a cup of Gatorade, but he hollered at her that Marines don't need Gatorade, and she backed away cautiously. (He had never been a Marine, but he thought he had.) He closed his eyes, "remembering" how he had liberated Iraq, and did not see Charles Wu run past in the yellow t-shirt his mother had hand-embroidered with a lucky dragon. (Wu had never run a marathon before, but something about his recent family dramas had prompted him to bolt outside several times in the past two weeks to run thirty miles. With the lucky t-shirt and his astronomical level of chi, Wu was almost guaranteed a top-ten finish.) Beckmann opened his eyes and saw a giant banana run past, then Batman, then a witch, then a trio of Lady Gagas, then a group of people dressed as the "Glee" cast in Rocky Horror Picture Show costumes. "HEY!" he screamed, jumping to his feet. "How dare you mock the Marines!" "Dude, it's Halloween!" pleaded an actual Marine dressed up as a Jedi knight, just before Beckmann tackled him to the ground.
Over on Capitalism Hill, Ann Bishis was uploading photographs from the Rally to Restore Sanity (or Keep Fear Alive) on the website of Congressman Herrmark. She did not actually believe spying on the rally was the best use of her time the weekend before Election Day, but she had been so glad to be hired back that she would have done anything. (Some time had passed since Congressman Herrmark had enjoyed the breakthrough year that resulted in his being voted Upper Class Twit of the Year in 2008, and he was a little nervous about this election, but his opponent had finally started slipping in the polls after Herrmark aired the campaign ad about his opponent's voting in the state legislature to fund Viagra for convicted child molesters.) Bishis hesitated for a moment before uploading the photo of the bare-chested woman who had loudly proclaimed to everyone around her that it was her birthday and they needed to photograph her "tits". In Greece, tiny breasts with nipple rings would have signalled drag queen or sailor from Cyprus, but this woman had apparently thought her barely adolescent body merited a great deal of lust. Most importantly, Bishis was not uploading the photo for titillation but to reinforce to Herrmark's base that the massive rally consisted of nothing more than comedians and sleazeballs. Click. She uploaded a few more "legalize pot" shots and bear photos, but she still had a large number of photos she was undecided on because they might have had more than one layer of irony: "My sign is better than your sign!", "I see dumb people", "Green Tea Express", "I'm a socialist - Obama is not", "Obama is not Satan - I am", and "Asses of Evil". She puzzled over the sign for "washingtonhorrorblog.com", looked it up on the Internet, was unable to make heads or tails of it, and decided to leave it out. Finally she uploaded the shot of Stephen Colbert impersonating a Chilean miner because this would really galvanize Herrmark's constituents. She emailed the Chief of Staff to take a look at the website and told her that she had some additional photos to discuss, then paused to say a quick prayer to her spirit animal, the pelican.
Over at the White House, Bo's canine narcolepsy had returned--with him fainting every time he heard the words "mid-term election", "Boehner", or "majority". With most of the White House staff off doing campaign work, there were few people left there except national security wonks. Bo was enjoying the peace and quiet of the White House garden, where Regina and Ferguson were flitting about in their beautiful Alice in Wonderland costumes, waiting for their mother to be ready to take them trick-or-treating. "Off with her head!" the queen suddenly screamed, and Bo leaped to his feet in surprise as the pre-schoolers suddenly jumped at each other, then landed in the White House vegetable garden, rolling around in the kale and Boston lettuce. By the time their mother came out to get them, their costumes were tattered and smeared in green. "It's not our fault," Regina said preemptively, and Clio looked around to see if there was possibly anybody else whose fault it could be, but there was nobody there except a distant security guard standing next to Bo, who had trotted over to him. In the trees, the White House ghosts were not laughing, even though they had been trying hard to stir up some fun. (This place has become a drag.) Clio summoned Reggie and Fergie to go trick-or-treating, too tired from her HIV to even think about doing anything to clean up or repair the costumes.
A block away, former Senator Evermore Breadman was in his Prince and Prowling office reviewing another campaign ad video set to air as soon as it got the lawyer's stamp of approval. {Leonard Blotzsky voted 385 times to raise taxes. He supports a constitutional amendment to return the United States to the British Commonwealth. He is against school prayer, but has defended his daughter's right to run a witch's coven out of her high school locker. He takes money from health insurance companies, then spends it on medical marijuana for himself, his staff, his wife, and his cocker spaniels. He is a secret Muslim who has voted with Nancy Pelosi 2,000 times. When he was mayor, he slashed public library funding after he got served with a $600 fine for failing to return a library book. That book? "Lady Chatterley's Lover!" We cannot tolerate another two years of Leonard Blotzsky! Paid for by the Committee to Elect Suzy Succotash.} Breadman checked on a few things, replayed the video once, then emailed the campaign team that it was OK to air except for the secret Muslim comment. ("Change it to 'Muslim supporter'") He reached into his bottom drawer for another stomach tonic, glad his campaign days were far behind him.
Back at the Marine Corps marathon, the police decided to let Glenn Michael Beckmann go since he was showing signs of dehydration-induced hallucinations, but advised the nurse to keep an eye on him. The runner dressed as Gumby who had gotten her head stomped by Beckmann (who could not get at her ribs because of the padding involved in the costume) was not amused, but Ardua of the Potomac was laughing her head off deep in the bowels of the river.
Coming up: the secret lives of millipedes and squirrels.
Over on Capitalism Hill, Ann Bishis was uploading photographs from the Rally to Restore Sanity (or Keep Fear Alive) on the website of Congressman Herrmark. She did not actually believe spying on the rally was the best use of her time the weekend before Election Day, but she had been so glad to be hired back that she would have done anything. (Some time had passed since Congressman Herrmark had enjoyed the breakthrough year that resulted in his being voted Upper Class Twit of the Year in 2008, and he was a little nervous about this election, but his opponent had finally started slipping in the polls after Herrmark aired the campaign ad about his opponent's voting in the state legislature to fund Viagra for convicted child molesters.) Bishis hesitated for a moment before uploading the photo of the bare-chested woman who had loudly proclaimed to everyone around her that it was her birthday and they needed to photograph her "tits". In Greece, tiny breasts with nipple rings would have signalled drag queen or sailor from Cyprus, but this woman had apparently thought her barely adolescent body merited a great deal of lust. Most importantly, Bishis was not uploading the photo for titillation but to reinforce to Herrmark's base that the massive rally consisted of nothing more than comedians and sleazeballs. Click. She uploaded a few more "legalize pot" shots and bear photos, but she still had a large number of photos she was undecided on because they might have had more than one layer of irony: "My sign is better than your sign!", "I see dumb people", "Green Tea Express", "I'm a socialist - Obama is not", "Obama is not Satan - I am", and "Asses of Evil". She puzzled over the sign for "washingtonhorrorblog.com", looked it up on the Internet, was unable to make heads or tails of it, and decided to leave it out. Finally she uploaded the shot of Stephen Colbert impersonating a Chilean miner because this would really galvanize Herrmark's constituents. She emailed the Chief of Staff to take a look at the website and told her that she had some additional photos to discuss, then paused to say a quick prayer to her spirit animal, the pelican.
Over at the White House, Bo's canine narcolepsy had returned--with him fainting every time he heard the words "mid-term election", "Boehner", or "majority". With most of the White House staff off doing campaign work, there were few people left there except national security wonks. Bo was enjoying the peace and quiet of the White House garden, where Regina and Ferguson were flitting about in their beautiful Alice in Wonderland costumes, waiting for their mother to be ready to take them trick-or-treating. "Off with her head!" the queen suddenly screamed, and Bo leaped to his feet in surprise as the pre-schoolers suddenly jumped at each other, then landed in the White House vegetable garden, rolling around in the kale and Boston lettuce. By the time their mother came out to get them, their costumes were tattered and smeared in green. "It's not our fault," Regina said preemptively, and Clio looked around to see if there was possibly anybody else whose fault it could be, but there was nobody there except a distant security guard standing next to Bo, who had trotted over to him. In the trees, the White House ghosts were not laughing, even though they had been trying hard to stir up some fun. (This place has become a drag.) Clio summoned Reggie and Fergie to go trick-or-treating, too tired from her HIV to even think about doing anything to clean up or repair the costumes.
A block away, former Senator Evermore Breadman was in his Prince and Prowling office reviewing another campaign ad video set to air as soon as it got the lawyer's stamp of approval. {Leonard Blotzsky voted 385 times to raise taxes. He supports a constitutional amendment to return the United States to the British Commonwealth. He is against school prayer, but has defended his daughter's right to run a witch's coven out of her high school locker. He takes money from health insurance companies, then spends it on medical marijuana for himself, his staff, his wife, and his cocker spaniels. He is a secret Muslim who has voted with Nancy Pelosi 2,000 times. When he was mayor, he slashed public library funding after he got served with a $600 fine for failing to return a library book. That book? "Lady Chatterley's Lover!" We cannot tolerate another two years of Leonard Blotzsky! Paid for by the Committee to Elect Suzy Succotash.} Breadman checked on a few things, replayed the video once, then emailed the campaign team that it was OK to air except for the secret Muslim comment. ("Change it to 'Muslim supporter'") He reached into his bottom drawer for another stomach tonic, glad his campaign days were far behind him.
Back at the Marine Corps marathon, the police decided to let Glenn Michael Beckmann go since he was showing signs of dehydration-induced hallucinations, but advised the nurse to keep an eye on him. The runner dressed as Gumby who had gotten her head stomped by Beckmann (who could not get at her ribs because of the padding involved in the costume) was not amused, but Ardua of the Potomac was laughing her head off deep in the bowels of the river.
Coming up: the secret lives of millipedes and squirrels.
posted by washingtonwaterwoman | 10:30 AM
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