Washington Horror Blog

SEMI-FICTIONAL CHRONICLE of the EVIL THAT INFECTS WASHINGTON, D.C. To read Prologue and Character Guide, please see www.washingtonhorrorblog.com, updated 6/6//2017. Follow Washington Water Woman on Twitter @HorrorDC ....

Sunday, September 07, 2014

The Congressional Record

"It's just all starting up again, Doc," said Congressman John Boehner to his psychiatrist, Ermann Esse.  "It's relentless!"

"Yes, but you thrive on the importance of your work and the enormity of your responsibilities," replied Dr. Esse.  "You must balance out the drawbacks of your position with the benefits you feel."

"Drawbacks!  Well, that's one word for it," said the Speaker of the House.

"Give me another word."

"Blackmail!" exclaimed Boehner.

"Oh, has that started up again?" asked Dr. Esse.

"Like clockwork!  This damned 'Tarantula' dropped me another menacing note warning me about the legislative agenda."

"I thought there was no legislative agenda?" asked Dr. Esse (who could never convince his patient to go to the FBI).

"I've got legislative bills coming up the wazoo!  Even from the normally lazy people, like Jacques Javert!  'Louisiana lumpkin!'  That's what we called him!"

"Charming," said Dr. Esse.

"He was charming!  But no more!  Now he acts like he's Mr. Untouchable, and he can do whatever the Hell he wants, and he's got all these demands.  People say he's flashing around this Rolex like a swamp pimp, but he's always scratching under it, like he's allergic to real gold or something.  He's taking money from Big Oil and then laughing in their faces--maybe he'll help them out, maybe he won't."  The Speaker lifted his head off the couch cushion to look directly into Dr. Esse's eyes.  "Some people think he's cruisin' for a bruisin', if you know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I don't," said the psychiatrist.

"He took money from BP, and now he's crowing about their gross negligence finding at trial!  The man's running out of friends and making a lot of enemies."

"I see.  Let's get back to you."

"I've gotta deal with Congressman Herrmark, who secretly put together a bipartisan coalition of ninnies to complain about hydrofracking on public lands.  I've got pro-police and anti-police factions up in arms (no pun intended) about this Ferguson police fiasco.  I've got a bill requesting President Obama to pardon Governor McDonnell and his wife.  I've got requests for a National Robin Williams Day, National Joan Rivers Day, National Gluten-Free Week, National Fossil Fuel Appreciation Month, and renaming five different post offices 'Seal Team Six' in honor of capturing Osama Bin Laden.  And the Tea Party's gotten stupider than ever!  They actually told me they want to censure Obama for not declaring war against Russia and not declaring war against ISIS!"  (Dr. Esse nodded sympathetically.)  "Well, he can't!  Congress is supposed to declare war--not the President!  These dimwits don't even know the basics about our government!"

"This is an excellent opportunity for you, Mr. Speaker!  This is the type of challenge from which you could derive real job satisfaction if you viewed it as an opportunity to exercise your leadership abilities, demonstrate your knowledge about the separation of powers, and instruct your junior colleagues on a more effective means of attacking this goal."


"Well, it won't be easy--"


"--but if it were an easy job, then anybody at all could do it.  You have been entrusted with this job because you have unique talents for it."

"I need help, for God's sake!  Nobody's helping me!  What are ya gonna do for me?"

Many important federal officials came to Dr. Ermann Esse because he was able to treat them without giving them drugs that would ruin their security clearances.  But sometimes, they just didn't want to do the hard work necessary for effective psychotherapy.  "Unbutton your shirt--I'm going to suck the toxins out of your pancreas, and this will help you relax and focus."  Dr. Esse took out a drinking glass from his kit, removed the hotel-style sanitary wrapper, and drove it gently but forcibly into Boehner's abdomen, just as he had seen in the You Tube video.  "This is something you should do twice a day, at approximately 10 a.m. and 10 p.m.  I will draw the circle around the cup with this permanent marker so you know the spot.  You need to lie here for three minutes with the cup on, and then three minutes with it off, and with your eyes closed, visualize the cortisol flowing to your skin and evaporating harmlessly into the air.  Your body will naturally replace the cortisol with an amphetamine and dopamine mix which is what you need to make the right decisions."  Dr. Esse smiled encouragingly at his patient.  (The placebo effect of this silly treatment was helping a lot of his patients.)  "And then you will be able to explain why we cannot risk nuclear war with Russia."

"That sounds good," said the Speaker of the House, who dutifully closed his eyes and visualized the chemicals evaporating away from his tummy.

I wonder if the Senate is in this kind of turmoil?, thought the psychiatrist.

Several miles to the north, spy Charles Wu hung up the phone with the Tarantula, then headed to the dining room for another hearty meal to replenish his body after his earlier 23rd place finish in today's National Triathlon.  Tomorrow, the Senate, he thought.  (These were tasks he was doing for former Senator Evermore Breadman, over at Prince and Prowling, and, truth be told, they were a welcome respite from Beijing's incessant requests for more information about what the U.S. was going to do against Russia.)  Truth be told, after McCutcheon vs. FEC, he wasn't even sure the blackmail was strictly necessary--but it was still a lot cheaper and more efficient than buying off scores and scores of elected officials.

Over on Capitol Hill, coroner John Constantine had his own Congressional agenda.  "Before we eat dinner," he said to his girlfriend, "I need to show you something."  Ann Bishis (Congressman Herrmark's Chief of Staff) had spent the last two hours painstakingly recreating her grandmother's baklava recipe, and was suspicious about the look on his face.  "I know it's a lot to ask, but I want you to look at this autopsy photo."


"Please, just do it.  It's really important.  You might lose your appetite for awhile, but I figure that's better than vomiting later."

"Thanks?" Bishis said, nervously.

"Will you look at it?  It's a Congressional staffer that died over the weekend.  He worked for Jacques Javert."

"OK," she said, but managed no more than a one-second look.  "Oh!"  She turned away and covered her eyes with her hands.

"There's no scientific explanation for this death."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, we have to take these rumors seriously.  There are things in this town that are not right.  Some would call it demonic.  I was raised not to believe in such superstitious nonsense, but I don't think my father or grandfather ever did an autopsy on a corpse like that."

"I've seen something, too," said Bishis hoarsely.  "Our former Chief of Staff...."

"What about her?"

"She didn't disappear.  We took her out on a sailboat to test her, to see if she was a zombie.  Then this maniac showed up in a kayak and chopped her head off.  Then maggots came out of her neck."

Constantine the coroner sat in stunned silence for several moments.  "Why didn't you ever tell me that before?"

"It didn't come up!"

Over in Alexandria, a rejuvenated Congressman Boehner was meeting with realtor Henrietta "Button" Samuelson.  "This is perfect!" he exclaimed.  "It's going to have to be handled by the GSA, though."


"The General Services Administration."

"For your new bar?"

"It's a long story," said Boehner, who could not tell her that he had only used her to scout a location for the New Dominion Boat Club, future secret drone base.  "Thank you for your trouble!"  He pulled out a $25,000 blank check from an Ohio corporation and handed it to her, kissed her on the cheek, then sauntered off into the night.  "I'm a natural leader!  Intelligent, knowledgeable, forceful, effective!"

Well, thought Ardua of the Potomac, who had been watching this from the demon's watery home, let's see how long that lasts.

The Heurich Society gives Glenn Michael Beckmann one more chance.


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