The Jackal
I don't own "The West Wing" or "The Jackal" (written/performed by Ronny Jordan).
They'd won the New Hampshire primary and everyone was celebrating.
"Come on, C.J., you must have a party trick!" Josh said. She was holding her third beer, and tomorrow she would blame her willingness to show off on her inebriation.
"Well, I do have one," she said.
"Great! What is it?" Sam asked.
"Do we have a copy of "The Jackal"?" she asked, and Josh and Sam searched for a copy.
"Found it!" Josh said, and C.J. took one final swig of her beer before standing up in front of the crowd.
"Attention!" Sam called out, banging a knife against his bottle of beer. The room settled down. "C.J.'s going to perform for us!"
She giggled nervously as the music began to play, but began.
"Did I ever tell you about the man who changed my life?
The one I thought, ohhh. Lord, when I saw him walkin' back in that bar, all tall and lean with them broad shoulders, sweeeet lips, I knew that I had died and gone to. . . Chocolate Heaven. . .
He had a real deep voice, white pearly teeth, his shoe was always shiny.
Long slender fingers manicured perfectly.
The man wore 800-dollar Italian suit, straight from, I dunno, what would they call it,
Milan or Rome or someplace like that?
I knew it wasn't local.
I said, I got to get next to that.
I haven't seen him in a long time.
The man was so fine, he could get any good girl into trouble. . .
Can you guess what his name was?. . .
Well. . . 'The Jackal'. . . 'The Jackal'. Say. 'The Jackal'. . ."
She was blushing, though she could hear her friends and colleagues cheering.
"Go C.J.!" she heard Abbey Bartlet yell, and she could have sworn she heard Governor Bartlet catcall.
"He was fat back cat cool like a Friday afternoon martini, chillin' at a quarter after 5.
Twist of lime, Coke on the side.
The brother loved the high life.
Had a Ph.D. in street stride.
They called him 'The Jackal'.
He was big Mack daddy super black stylin' a diamonds in the back Cadillac.
Fur-lined boards, white wall wheels, cruise control, built for speed, chrome on evray-thang.
And stereophonic speakers, though he really didn't need them.
When they called him. . . 'The Jackal'. Say. 'The Jackal'. . .
Fly boy was in the buttermilk, hard, livin' fast, livin' large, 6 foot 4 and not an ounce of fat!
When women asked, 'is you a Cat?' He said 'I did more that that.
I'm the firmest of the firm
And in case you, hadn't known, they call me 'The Jackal'.
Served the 18-year bid First Riker's Island then they hid him in the state
penitentiary. Said the charge was Grand Larceny.
That was 1975, and today, if he's still alive, he'd be living in the park.
Hm. The brother whose claim to fame was that they called him 'The Jackal'. 'The Jackal'. . ."
She finished, finally, to thunderous applause.
"How'd you do that?" Sam asked her.
"Well, in case you haven't heard, they call me the Jackal," she quipped, and reached for another beer, laughing.