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, November 27, 2016

The Home Front

Dulles Samuelson walked back onto his houseboat, Singapore Surprise, with another bouquet of roses, another box of chocolates, and another bag of Columbia Heights pupusas.  He had hoped for a long time for Angela de la Paz to move in with him, but finding her in his bed days ago--sobbing uncontrollably about unstoppable evil forces--had not been quite the way he had wanted it to go.  He left everything in the kitchen and went to find her in the bedroom.

"Did you like it?" he asked.  "Nobody can be in a bad mood while watching 'Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure!'"

"Yeah," she said flatly.  "Be excellent to each other."

He crawled under the quilt and told her dinner was hot and ready.

"You're the best," she said flatly.  "I mean it," she added, knowing she was still not smiling at him.

"That's not all I am!" he said, with a kiss.  "Just got a call saying I've officially passed Quantico!  I have three more days off, then I report to FBI headquarters to meet my new boss on December 1st!"

"Wow!" she said, and actually started to smile.

"Heading into the belly of the beast!"

Angela almost laughed.  "If you're ever in trouble, I'll get a vision."

"I know," he said, "but I intend to take care of myself!  You still have bigger things to worry about."  He saw her frown.  "Not worry!  I mean--"

"I don't have any visions about anything else," she sighed.  "I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing."

"Let's take the boat to warmer waters for a couple of days.  Then you should go back to work," he said.  "Whatever Charles asks you to do, your moral compass will tell you to do the opposite!"  He winked, getting one more tiny smile out of her.

Meanwhile, Charles Wu was meeting with Bridezilla at her Prince and Prowling office to discuss the next moves for his SuperPAC.

"It's not over yet!" she said, placing the Christmas tree in the miniature Disney castle her boyfriend ("Esperantu Edward") had given her as a Thanksgiving gift.

"So they don't mind you having something like that here?" asked Charles.

"Why would they?" asked Bridezilla, who had stopped caring what people thought after getting reinstated as a junior partner.  "Now, if I had the guinea pig house here, that wouldn't be allowed."  She hung a miniature wreath on the tiny door, took some photos of the result, then sat down at her desk.

Edward had assured Charles that he had given up spying and was going straight for Bridezilla's sake, but Charles still had misgivings that this relationship had blossomed at all.  It was going to be bad when it blew up, and Charles would take the blame for introducing them--even though it had only been for the miniatures!  "So why do you think it's not over yet?" he asked, still unable to explain to his handlers in Hong Kong OR Beijing (a) why Donald Trump got elected or (b) what to expect from the maniac.

"Look, Charles," she said, "I'm not expecting you to keep paying me after your SuperPAC failed, but that man is a nutjob!  Even some of the bigots I grew up with in Virginia did not vote for that greedy pig-on-a-stick!  I know how Pentagon people think, I know how CIA people think, I know how FBI people think, I even know how some of the Supreme Court Justices think, and I'm telling you:  he is going to have a lot of trouble dictating anything!  The conservative establishment--"

"The military-industrial complex?"

"Call it what you will," she said with a sweet smile, "but they are not going to let this country become a stooge of the KGB!  Or stand by while he lines his own pockets at their expense."

"Seems like the old-guard GOP is kissing his ass to get appointments," Charles said.

"That's right, and they are soon going to outnumber him by a long shot!"

"Congress is kissing his ass, too!"

"The Republican Congress has enough rope to hang itself with now," she said.  "All of the Senators and Reps have to think hard about their own reelection.  Do you realize that Texas only voted for Trump by a 10% margin?  That is minuscule for the GOP in Texas, Charles!  Now he's going to build the wall or not build the wall, and these Senators and Reps will have to be for or against one of those results!  There will be no fence-straddling on Donald Trump!"

"Maybe I'll move to England for awhile," Charles said.  "I can't--"  He realized he almost said "spy on a government I don't understand", but caught himself.

"Prince and Prowling has always prided itself on succeeding no matter who's in power in Washington, Charles, and I know your business interests will, as well."

Charles Wu had bribed and paid and hired all sorts of people over the years to get the information he needed and resell it lucratively, but something about bribing Donald Trump or his Administration was more than he could stomach, no matter how much it would help his own finances.  Angela said Trump has no soul?  Why won't she just kill him?

 Up in Dupont Circle, Condoleezza Rice was staring out of the giant video screen in the upper floor meeting room of the Brewmaster's Castle.  "This meeting isn't adjourned yet!" she said.

"We've been at it for five hours!" groaned the investment banker.

"Five hours?" she mocked him.  "It took me seven hours just to explain to W the difference between Sunnis and Shiites!"

"We don't really need to know that, do we?" asked the Midwestern Congressman.

"My new secret agent was delayed, but he's joining you now.  He will be our point person at the Defense Intelligence Agency, the one security agency too bureaucratic for Trump to dismantle."

At that moment, a handsome young man with an uncanny resemblance to Donald Trump, Jr., entered the room in a wheelchair.  "Good evening.  Sorry I'm late.  This building needs a handicapped parking spot!"  He quickly saluted the Heurich Society Chairwoman on the video screen, then started rolling around to shake hands with everybody in the room.  "My name is Captain Tyler Glockmann.  I just finished my second tour in Iraq.  Before that I did a tour in Afghanistan."  All of this was a lie, but it did not feel like a lie.  It was his twin brother who had served bravely overseas while this man, Thomas, stayed at home with the useless legs he had possessed since the skiing accident over ten years ago.  "The terrorists couldn't get me, but a drunk driver did!" he said.  This also did not feel like a lie, since a huge part of him had felt dead since Tyler was killed in the car crash while on leave--something very few people knew, one of them being Condoleezza Rice.  "Now I'm ready to serve my country on the most important battlefield in the world:  the home front against Trump."

The men of the Heurich Society looked at the crew-cut soldier who might have been on a Nazi recruitment poster if not for the wheelchair and realized Rice had stumbled upon the perfect mole.  "Welcome to the Heurich Society!" said the international arms merchant, who was echoed enthusiastically around the room.

Over in Foggy Bottom, Dr. Khalid Mohammad returned from his hospital shift to find "Muslims go home!" spray-painted on his apartment door again.  He pulled out the can of spray paint he carried in his bag for just this purpose:  spraying over it before his wife might venture out of the apartment and see it.  I guess it's time to buy a house, he thought, though in what neighborhood he could not say.

COMING UP:   The cursed Rolex is stolen!


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