I was seated at the dining table this morning, enjoying a meager repast of rum-drenched French toast, a rasher of bacon, two dozen eggs, and a pitcher of Bloody Marys, when I came across a rather shocking bit of news on my Blackberry PlayBook.
“No!” I gasped, staring at the screen in disbelief. “It can’t be! What will happen to the country if she leaves?”
“If whom leaves, guv’nor?” asked my butler Montgomery, who was dusting the candelabra above the table. “Is Sandra Bullock moving abroad?”
“What?” I said between bites. “What does Sandra Bullock have to do with anything?”
“Well, she was indispensable in Speed.”
“True. But that was decades ago. What has she done for us lately?”
“Excellent point as always, sir. Pip pip.”
“Anyhow, no. I was speaking of Michele Bachmann. She just announced that she won’t seek reelection in 2014.”
“Oh?” Monty said. He was now on his tippy-toes, attempting to get those small slivers of dust at the very top that I find so annoying. “What reason did she give?”
“Doesn’t say. But she does make it clear that it has absolutely nothing to do with fear of losing or the recent unpleasantness regarding her presidential campaign finances. So there’s that.”
“Quite right. I — oh, I say!” I heard a loud thump, and looked up from my PlayBook to observe that Monty had somehow fallen off the table and landed in a tangled heap on the lushly carpeted floor below.
“Sweet Creeping Nixon, get a hold of yourself,” I said, rising from my seat. “I mean, this development isn’t all bad. After all, now that Michele won’t be so busy with Congress, her social calendar should open up nicely. Ergo, it shouldn’t be long before I finally get her in the sack.”
Monty moaned gravely as I drained the rest of my Bloody Mary and walked toward the door. “I know, I know. And you’re right: She is considerably older than my usual cutoff,” I said before exiting. “But in her case, it’s almost like sleeping with a female version of George Washington. And I’ll be goddamned if I won’t make exceptions for our Founding Fathers! Anyhow, once you’re done with your break, please track down someone who can put me in touch with her. Consider it your top priority!”
With that, I headed off to work. Though truth be told, I might as well have stayed home, as the visions of coitus with Bachmann running through my head are making it all but impossible for me to get anything done. Unless you count masturbation, because I’ve accomplished quite a bit of that and there’s more on the way. Ta ta.