Spectral Pee
"He needs you to do another mission for him," said temporal lobe epileptic "John Doe" (who was still telling everybody he was an autistic shaman, though he was really an amnesiac conduit).
"I know that!" replied Angela de la Paz. "He didn't need to send you to tell me." (Angela could now hear directly from the ghost of Henry Samuelson when she was in the Dreamtime.)
"I like your boat," said John.
"It's not mine," said Angela, looking at him on the dock without inviting him aboard the Singapore Surprise houseboat she shared with Dulles Samuelson.
"Ghost Henry doesn't think you should be living with his son."
"Does he want us to get married?" asked Angela, sarcastically.
"He wants you to do another mission," replied John. "Do you have any crabcakes?"
"No," sighed Angela, suddenly thinking of all the kindnesses Lynnette Wong had showed her when she was young and very troubled. "I just made pupusas, if you want one of those."
"What's that?" he asked.
"It's Salvadoran," she said, turning to reenter the houseboat. "But I'm not doing any more missions for Ghost Henry. He needs to return to Purgatory and clean up his soul."
"Wow, that's heavy!" said John, following her down into the kitchen. "He said he has too much left to do on Earth. Did you know he's teaming up with the ghost of Anatoly Malenkov to counter Trump's attempts to give cyber intelligence to Vladimir Putin?"
"Who's that?" Angela asked, handing him a plate.
"A murdered Russian diplomat! He's inhabiting a Samoyed, but the dog also died, so it's like a ghost inside a ghost."
Angela shook her head, wishing Dulles would get home. "I only do missions when I have a vision."
"You do missions for that Chinese spy," John retorted.
"Only when I want the money and it's not an evil mission."
"Ghost Henry is not evil! He's a patriot!"
"Yeah, people are throwing that word around a lot lately," Angela said. (It seemed a thousand years ago when Henry Samuelson plucked her out of Columbia Heights and sent her to Kansas for training and plastic surgery to become a super spy, 500 years ago she was an active combatant in the Middle East--where violence and refugee flight still showed no end in sight.)
"But he is!" insisted John. "The Ghost CIA succeeded in getting Steven Bannon off the National Security Council and out of the White House! Then they got Sebastian Gorka out."
"Dulles says Gorka had to leave after making Tiffany Trump uncomfortable."
"Well, the Russian ambassador is gone because of them! Trump won't listen to the real CIA, but the Ghost CIA moved out of Langley and took up residence in Trump International Hotel where they are whispering in everybody's ears! It's not just lobbyists in there, you know."
"Yes, I know," sighed Angela, who had liberated three Bulgarian and seven Moldovan trafficking victims from the Russian suite there in the past three months.
"Ghost Henry said you would agree with him on this mission: all he's asking is for you to--"
"I know what he's asking," interrupted Angela. "I also know Trump is not my mission. He sold his soul a long time ago, and is just a shell now."
"What?!"
"Someone else has to remove him from power. Lynnette told me the most prominent psychiatrists in the country have written to Congress about how unstable Trump is, how he's inflaming racial unrest, how he shouldn't have the nuclear football. This is a test of democracy: that's what Dulles says. I was given a gift, but not for that."
John was so upset at the idea of Trump's having sold his soul to Satan that he fell into a TLE seizure. Angela took John's hand, looked for him in the Dreamtime, spoke gently to him there, and then he came back.
"I like this food," John said, forgetting why he was here.
"I'll get you another one," said Angela, who had also seen, and ignored, Ghost Henry there.
Meanwhile, over at Trump International Hotel, the Ghost CIA had managed to get several of the vicious Trump-cover issues of Der Spiegel and Stern distributed, persuaded three lobbyists their wives would leave them if they did not renounce all ties to the Trump Administration, tripped Eric Trump twice, and played Pied Piper with a whole battalion of cockroaches.
It's not enough, moaned the ghost of Anatoly Malenkov (the Samoyed), lifting his leg to urinate spectral pee into Stephen Miller's beer glass. It's never enough.
****************************************************************
COMING UP:
Condoleezza Rice has a private race riot!
"I know that!" replied Angela de la Paz. "He didn't need to send you to tell me." (Angela could now hear directly from the ghost of Henry Samuelson when she was in the Dreamtime.)
"I like your boat," said John.
"It's not mine," said Angela, looking at him on the dock without inviting him aboard the Singapore Surprise houseboat she shared with Dulles Samuelson.
"Ghost Henry doesn't think you should be living with his son."
"Does he want us to get married?" asked Angela, sarcastically.
"He wants you to do another mission," replied John. "Do you have any crabcakes?"
"No," sighed Angela, suddenly thinking of all the kindnesses Lynnette Wong had showed her when she was young and very troubled. "I just made pupusas, if you want one of those."
"What's that?" he asked.
"It's Salvadoran," she said, turning to reenter the houseboat. "But I'm not doing any more missions for Ghost Henry. He needs to return to Purgatory and clean up his soul."
"Wow, that's heavy!" said John, following her down into the kitchen. "He said he has too much left to do on Earth. Did you know he's teaming up with the ghost of Anatoly Malenkov to counter Trump's attempts to give cyber intelligence to Vladimir Putin?"
"Who's that?" Angela asked, handing him a plate.
"A murdered Russian diplomat! He's inhabiting a Samoyed, but the dog also died, so it's like a ghost inside a ghost."
Angela shook her head, wishing Dulles would get home. "I only do missions when I have a vision."
"You do missions for that Chinese spy," John retorted.
"Only when I want the money and it's not an evil mission."
"Ghost Henry is not evil! He's a patriot!"
"Yeah, people are throwing that word around a lot lately," Angela said. (It seemed a thousand years ago when Henry Samuelson plucked her out of Columbia Heights and sent her to Kansas for training and plastic surgery to become a super spy, 500 years ago she was an active combatant in the Middle East--where violence and refugee flight still showed no end in sight.)
"But he is!" insisted John. "The Ghost CIA succeeded in getting Steven Bannon off the National Security Council and out of the White House! Then they got Sebastian Gorka out."
"Dulles says Gorka had to leave after making Tiffany Trump uncomfortable."
"Well, the Russian ambassador is gone because of them! Trump won't listen to the real CIA, but the Ghost CIA moved out of Langley and took up residence in Trump International Hotel where they are whispering in everybody's ears! It's not just lobbyists in there, you know."
"Yes, I know," sighed Angela, who had liberated three Bulgarian and seven Moldovan trafficking victims from the Russian suite there in the past three months.
"Ghost Henry said you would agree with him on this mission: all he's asking is for you to--"
"I know what he's asking," interrupted Angela. "I also know Trump is not my mission. He sold his soul a long time ago, and is just a shell now."
"What?!"
"Someone else has to remove him from power. Lynnette told me the most prominent psychiatrists in the country have written to Congress about how unstable Trump is, how he's inflaming racial unrest, how he shouldn't have the nuclear football. This is a test of democracy: that's what Dulles says. I was given a gift, but not for that."
John was so upset at the idea of Trump's having sold his soul to Satan that he fell into a TLE seizure. Angela took John's hand, looked for him in the Dreamtime, spoke gently to him there, and then he came back.
"I like this food," John said, forgetting why he was here.
"I'll get you another one," said Angela, who had also seen, and ignored, Ghost Henry there.
Meanwhile, over at Trump International Hotel, the Ghost CIA had managed to get several of the vicious Trump-cover issues of Der Spiegel and Stern distributed, persuaded three lobbyists their wives would leave them if they did not renounce all ties to the Trump Administration, tripped Eric Trump twice, and played Pied Piper with a whole battalion of cockroaches.
It's not enough, moaned the ghost of Anatoly Malenkov (the Samoyed), lifting his leg to urinate spectral pee into Stephen Miller's beer glass. It's never enough.
****************************************************************
COMING UP:
Condoleezza Rice has a private race riot!
posted by washingtonwaterwoman | 6:37 PM
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