Sunday, July 8, 2012

Reader Submission: Nuclearpiece Theater - Bedtime for Barack

A Nuclearpiece Theater scene by Scatbug:

Bedtime for Barack
The White House
Washington, DC
A Thursday
The President of the United States has trouble falling asleep…
MO:     Knock, knock…Are you still up?
BO:     Yeah…Feeling kinda restless. Mind’s spinning like crazy.
MO:     I thought so. You seemed more tense than usual playing Battleship with Joe tonight. It’s just a game honey.
BO:     I know, but man…I can whack dudes by snapping my fingers [snap!], but I still can’t beat that shifty little…
MO:     Language, mister.
BO:     Sorry, but his “ka-booms!” drive me IN-sane. General…um…what’s-his-face said it would help with military stuff. Whatever. Maybe that Stratego game the kids got me for Christmas…
MO:     Here…I brought you some rice cakes and pomegranate juice. [soft sing-song] Antioxidants each day keep cranky Barry at bay…
BO:     [crunch] Mmmmm…Salty.
MO:     Yeah, but don’t get used to it, bucko.
BO:     What would I do without you…besides enjoy myself.
MO:     Ha…Ha. Well, you deserve a special treat now and then [smooch]. Now why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you.
BO:     Well…I don’t know…It’s…um…It just seems…uh…different this time. The race, I mean.
MO:     Sugar, we’ve talked about this before. Sometimes things in life are hard and require lots of hard work.
BO:     You don’t think I know that? I’ve mastered all of the qualities of a good leader. How many hours did I spend working with that creepy English dude on posture, the head tilt slash swivel, hand gestures, and…um…dang it…that…oh shoot…diction? There’s a reason why My Fair Lady can’t be watched in my presence, you know. And you try reading off those freaking little screens without squinting, especially on the big words.

But it all paid off in spades. The people flocked to hear me speak, hung on every word, made racy videos, plastered my mug everywhere like flippin’ Mao. Women swooned!  They actually SWOONED! And we didn’t even ask for the halos.
MO:     Calm…calm down…You remember what Dr. Hoffmansteiger told you about managing your temper. It takes more than Nicorette to control those urges.
Honey I told you then that you’d have to do the same thing in fours years and that it might be different. Even harder. So…Here we are.
BO:     Yep, here we are. People hate me. They laugh at me…ME!! They say rude things. Merchandise sales are down. No more wide-angle shots at rallies. Chit-chat on the View is one thing, but when’s the last time some gal passed out?!?
MO:     Barack, please…
BO:     Sorry, but I just don’t get it. For what…three years now?...everywhere I’d see smiling faces, prosperous public sector union workers, glimmering solar panels. I gave folks healthcare! Saved and created their jobs! [sits up] I made ALL of that possible! [long sigh] I thought everyone was happy. And now…
MO:     Come on…Lie down. Deep breaths.
You were remarkable…Like no other. And sweetie, lots of people still love you. All those fabulous people who pay to have dinner with you? What about them?
BO:     I suppose, but…
MO:     But what.
BO:     Who’s Potemkin?
MO:     Say again?
BO:     Potemkin…I think I said that right. I heard Valerie and David talking about him the other day. Something about what a great job he did, but was worthless now, or whatever. I’d tell you what David said, but soap don’t taste so good [chuckle].
Was he on the campaign staff or something? A cabinet member? They made it sound like he…
MO:     Well…he, ummm…It’s kind of a long story. And it’s getting late. Maybe tomorrow.
BO:     [yawning] Sure. Take the plate, please? I’ll keep the juice in case I get thirsty.
MO:     Okay, but do be careful. Those nice PJs Anna sent are cashmere.
BO:     Love the monogram…And so soft…Did I ever tell you about the pet cashmere I had as a child? Step-dad found it in the woods when he was running guns to fight imperialists in the Gobi Desert. Poor thing had a thorn in its paw and…
MO:     Oookay…Time for bed Mr. President.  You need a good night’s sleep. Busy, busy day tomorrow.
BO:     Tee time?
MO:     10ish.  Night-night. [smooch]  I’ll be in after Housewives.
BO:     [yaaaaawn]
MO:     [door closes] Potemkin ought to be hung…

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