I
often wonder how those big decisions are made. You know,
that outlandish shit that you just have to think- they were
high when they thought of that. I imagine Bush in the oval
office rolling a joint as Cheney anxiously puts towels under
the door. Bush bends and unbends a paper clip.
“Hey, Cheney, I got a joke.”
“Be cool, George.” Says Cheney, jaw clenching.
Meticulously, Cheney makes sure no crack is left open under
the door.
“Can I light it now?” Asks Bush.
“Hold on, Jr., let me relax a little,”
Cheney sits down, taking out his small, wrinkled journal.
Inside you see doodles of super heroes shooting thunderbolts
from the sky, in the margin in bold it says, “Cheney…
god… take over the world…oil” He begins
to write furiously, his small features pinched in concentration.
“Hey, Cheney, can I tell my joke now?”
“What.”
“There are three types of ears.”
“Uh huh…”
Bush takes a toke,
“Yeah, your ear,” he points to his ear, “a
ear of corn…”
“Uh huh.” Says Cheney, barely looking up.
“And,” Bush takes a big toke and with a withheld
breath he says, “ h’ere,” handing the
joint to Cheney. Bush giggles,
“Get it?”
“Funny.” Says Cheney, not smiling.
An awkward silence ensues. Bush stares out the window,
“Dude, I’m the freakin’ president!”
Cheney quietly takes another toke.
“That you are, George.”
“Who would’ve thought.”
Another silence ensues as Cheney scribbles on his pad. He
mumbles to himself, biting on his pen in a deep reverie.
Bush whistles the theme to “Cheers.”
“I’ve got it!” Says Cheney.
Bush jumps,
“You scared me, man!”
“A war. Problem solved. We get the oil, I’ll
get Halliburton in on the deal…”
He stares in to space, a soft smile on his face. “I
am a genius.”
“Sure, Cheney, whatever you say, man…”
Cheney smiles to himself. Bush stares at the joint as the
ash begins to accumulate.
“Hey, Dick, puff-puff-pass, man, puff-puff-pass!”
