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, July 05, 2015

John Boehner' Quest for Liberty

Congressman John Boehner had recently had a lot on his mind, but it's amazing how the most pressing matters of state, survival, and power recede to the back burner when your man cave reeks of shit.

"Where is the cleaning crew?!" he exclaimed to his bodyguard, Solomon Kane

"There were a lot of flooded basements after the monsoon yesterday, and it's not easy to find somebody who can pass the security clearance.  We were lucky to get the plumber last night!"

"There is pee and doo-doo all over my Ohio limestone floor, and the bearskin rugs, and the putting green, and the--"

"I know, boss!"

"Why can't we fly Marta back from her vacation to clean this up?"

"She's somewhere in El Salvador."

"Why can't you locate her?"


"We wouldn't have this problem if you had persuaded the psychic to come work for me!"

"I don't think she gets visions about backed-up sewage pipes."

"I'm two heartbeats away from the Presidency!  I shouldn't have to live like this!  I want my man cave back!"

"Don't you like your suite at the Four Seasons?"

"They're over-charging for bourbon, the chairs are terrible, and the curtains are gay!"

Kane handed up three bottles of bourbon to where the Speaker of the House was perched on the stairs, wrinkling his nose.  "Is there something else bothering you, boss?"

"I mean, what's the world coming to?" sighed Boehner, taking a swig as he wistfully eyed the big-screen TV and his DVR loaded up with his favorite "House of Cards", "Game of Thrones", and "Charlie's Angels" episodes he had been planning to binge-watch today (again).

"I can move the DVR upstairs," said Kane.

"It's just not the same if I can't sit on my throne!"  (Kane knew he couldn't move the throne, so he remained silent.)  "The Oklahoma Supreme Court said it was okay for homeowners to sue fracking companies for earthquake damage!  Are they insane?  Nobody gets thirty-five earthquakes in a week unless God has it in for them!"

"Well, you don't really blame God for natural disasters, do you?" asked Kane, gesturing around the flood-damaged man cave.

"This is different!" retorted Boehner.  "I blame that Polish plumber I hired last year."

"What about all the shark attacks in North Carolina?  You blame those on God, too?  Some say global warming has messed up the fish schools that the sharks normally eat."

"Of course it's God!  Nobody would get that many shark attacks unless God had it in for them!"

"Well, why does God have it in for Oklahoma and North Carolina?  They don't even have gay marriage!"  (Kane had long ago decided that the only fun thing about his job was goading Boehner.)

"Who knows what secrets their Governors and Senators and business leaders might be hiding?!" exclaimed Boehner, his face getting redder as he thought about all the television-inspired imaginings and fantasies to which his mind had been wandering the past year (particularly during meetings)--some of which involved his being a hero and others of which involved his being a victim.  "Maybe my blackmailer is from Oklahoma or North Carolina!" he said fiercely.

"He's not," said Kane, still refusing to tell Boehner the identity of the blackmailer (Tarantula) or his puppet master (Charles Wu)--for Boehner's own safety.

"Damn it!  Why won't you admit it's Rupert Murdoch!?"  (Kane looked away, as he always did.)

"Dennis Hastert went from Speaker of the House to national disgrace because of his blackmailer!" exclaimed Boehner.

"Boss, this is completely different!  The Tarantula is not even asking you for money--just an occasional action in the House of Representatives."

"It's a corruption of the Democratic process!  Do you know how angry my constituents get at me when I don't do the right thing?"

"By 'constituents' you mean--"

"Don't start that again!"

Kane flashed his adorable smile at Boehner, fairly certain his boss had a man crush on him.  "Wow, this shirt stinks," Kane said, taking off his t-shirt to exhibit his six-pack of glory.  "Can we get outta here now?"  Kane walked up the stairs, brushing Boehner's shoulder with his ankle holster as he passed him.  "Why don't you invite your buddies from the secret Cuba Caucus to come over to your hotel suite and celebrate the announcement of the new embassy in Havana?  We could smoke cigars on the balcony!"

"How can I relax, knowing I owe favors that I might not be able to execute?  I've got this blackmail hanging over my head all the time!  I want to be free!"

Kane squatted down on the landing, his abs leaning over his jeans (and the Bill Blass belt Boehner had given him) and reached his hand down to Boehner, who seemed glued to the steps.  "Come on!  Everything's gonna be fine!"

Boehner looked up at the six-pack of glory and believed it.

Beneath them, in the laundry room tucked behind the man cave, Boehner's zombie chief of staff resumed eating the cleaning woman who had "passed" the security clearance and arrived a half-hour before Solomon Kane.

COMING UP:  The walls close in on Dupont Down Under!


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