Disclaimer: 'The West Wing' and all related materials belong to Aaron Sorkin, NBC, and various other capitalist strongholds. Fight the power, but if you want to pay for this, pay them, you fool.
Author's Note: Aie. I apologise for the wholly un-prosey nature of this fic. Some conversation popped into my head and I typed it and then it didn't want any of that unimportant stuff, like speaker indicators and description. Enjoy:)
We Are POTUS, Resistance Is Mandatory
By BJ Garrett
"Are you busy?"
"Do mine ears deceive me, or is that Sam, my erstwhile sidekick?"
"Donna's your sidekick."
"Really?"
"I think so. I hope so."
"Is there something wrong with being my sidekick?"
"Well, there's this angry guy with a beard in the office next to mine who seems to think I'm *his* sidekick, so that could be a problem."
"Since when is he angry?"
"What year was he born?"
"What's up?"
"Apparently Jefferson and some of his boys are going to take us to the cleaners on IV drug use and rehabilitation."
"And we're worried about Jefferson because..."
"He's considerably more popular with the party than we are right now."
"I love how we, the collective entity which is the senior staff, refer to the President as us. Kind of like the Borg."
"Are you even listening to me?"
"You know, from Star Trek: The Next Generation? I always preferred the original series, but you gotta love Patrick Stewart. We are the Borg, resistance is futile. You know."
"You're not listening to me. Why aren't you listening to me?"
"I don't think it's a problem, Sam."
"It becomes a problem when used hypodermic needles are found in toy drive drop-off bins."
"You made that one up."
"I didn't--it happened in Newark, New Jersey last Christmas. Arnold Getz--37, Caucasian, unmarried, resides with his parents, suffers from mild Down's Syndrome--a volunteer at the Room At The Inn battered women's shelter, where the bin was located, was stabbed in the hand by a hypodermic needle used to inject heroin into somebody. Probably several somebodies. Because intravenous drug use is a serious problem in this country. I didn't make it up, and it's not funny."
"I'm not laughing."
"You were."
"I wasn't. I was smirking because I thought you were being over-dramatic."
"This isn't a 76-year-old grandmother with a gun, Josh."
"So you weren't being over-dramatic."
"Well, I wasn't making it up, at least."
"Okay. So we should be very afraid of Jefferson and his posse?"
"Toby thinks so."
"What do you think?"
"I think Jefferson has a point."
"And yet you're badgering me instead of cleaning out your desk."
"Less important people than me have kept their jobs after saying worse things to more influential people."
"I think you just insulted me."
"I'm pretty sure I did."
"Like, three times in one sentence."
"Four, but yeah."
"Just so I know. You think he's got a point?"
"Yes."
"Show me the money, Sammo."
"I'm not your sidekick. Don't give me a nickname, please."
"Can I keep the catchphrase?"
"It's not yours."
"You sure Toby didn't give you a wedgie before he sent you over here? Cuz you're kind of surly."
"This is serious, Josh. Please focus."
"Used hypodermic needles?"
"Yep."
"Toy drive? Down's Syndrome?"
"Newark, New Jersey."
"I guess we should probably do something about that, seeing how we're the President and all."
"No frost on your pumpkins."
"What?"
"Acutally, I don't know."
"Okay, good. Cuz I wasn't sure if you just said there was no frost on my pumpkins or not."
"Well, I did."
"I was afraid of that. Gimme a sec to change into my costume and we'll go talk to Leo, okay?"
"Costume?"
"You're not wearing yours? What a pitiful excuse for a sidekick."
"Sure. Fine. Whatever. Want me to get Toby?"
"Yeah--we'll need more than one person who thinks Jefferson's got a point."
"I haven't convinced you?"
"I don't know what Jefferson's point is, Sam. How can I be convinced?"
"I kind of walked into that one, didn't I?"
"Just a little."
The End.
Author's Note: Aie. I apologise for the wholly un-prosey nature of this fic. Some conversation popped into my head and I typed it and then it didn't want any of that unimportant stuff, like speaker indicators and description. Enjoy:)
We Are POTUS, Resistance Is Mandatory
By BJ Garrett
"Are you busy?"
"Do mine ears deceive me, or is that Sam, my erstwhile sidekick?"
"Donna's your sidekick."
"Really?"
"I think so. I hope so."
"Is there something wrong with being my sidekick?"
"Well, there's this angry guy with a beard in the office next to mine who seems to think I'm *his* sidekick, so that could be a problem."
"Since when is he angry?"
"What year was he born?"
"What's up?"
"Apparently Jefferson and some of his boys are going to take us to the cleaners on IV drug use and rehabilitation."
"And we're worried about Jefferson because..."
"He's considerably more popular with the party than we are right now."
"I love how we, the collective entity which is the senior staff, refer to the President as us. Kind of like the Borg."
"Are you even listening to me?"
"You know, from Star Trek: The Next Generation? I always preferred the original series, but you gotta love Patrick Stewart. We are the Borg, resistance is futile. You know."
"You're not listening to me. Why aren't you listening to me?"
"I don't think it's a problem, Sam."
"It becomes a problem when used hypodermic needles are found in toy drive drop-off bins."
"You made that one up."
"I didn't--it happened in Newark, New Jersey last Christmas. Arnold Getz--37, Caucasian, unmarried, resides with his parents, suffers from mild Down's Syndrome--a volunteer at the Room At The Inn battered women's shelter, where the bin was located, was stabbed in the hand by a hypodermic needle used to inject heroin into somebody. Probably several somebodies. Because intravenous drug use is a serious problem in this country. I didn't make it up, and it's not funny."
"I'm not laughing."
"You were."
"I wasn't. I was smirking because I thought you were being over-dramatic."
"This isn't a 76-year-old grandmother with a gun, Josh."
"So you weren't being over-dramatic."
"Well, I wasn't making it up, at least."
"Okay. So we should be very afraid of Jefferson and his posse?"
"Toby thinks so."
"What do you think?"
"I think Jefferson has a point."
"And yet you're badgering me instead of cleaning out your desk."
"Less important people than me have kept their jobs after saying worse things to more influential people."
"I think you just insulted me."
"I'm pretty sure I did."
"Like, three times in one sentence."
"Four, but yeah."
"Just so I know. You think he's got a point?"
"Yes."
"Show me the money, Sammo."
"I'm not your sidekick. Don't give me a nickname, please."
"Can I keep the catchphrase?"
"It's not yours."
"You sure Toby didn't give you a wedgie before he sent you over here? Cuz you're kind of surly."
"This is serious, Josh. Please focus."
"Used hypodermic needles?"
"Yep."
"Toy drive? Down's Syndrome?"
"Newark, New Jersey."
"I guess we should probably do something about that, seeing how we're the President and all."
"No frost on your pumpkins."
"What?"
"Acutally, I don't know."
"Okay, good. Cuz I wasn't sure if you just said there was no frost on my pumpkins or not."
"Well, I did."
"I was afraid of that. Gimme a sec to change into my costume and we'll go talk to Leo, okay?"
"Costume?"
"You're not wearing yours? What a pitiful excuse for a sidekick."
"Sure. Fine. Whatever. Want me to get Toby?"
"Yeah--we'll need more than one person who thinks Jefferson's got a point."
"I haven't convinced you?"
"I don't know what Jefferson's point is, Sam. How can I be convinced?"
"I kind of walked into that one, didn't I?"
"Just a little."
The End.