Fortune Cookie Wisdom
by Sir Pidwick



Disclaimer: Yada yada, characters referred to are not mine, yada yada.
Archive: Sure! Just tell me before hand.
Summery: Just a little thingy the day before Bartlett goes on television.
Spoilers: Everything up to, uh, let's just say everything just in case. Ok?

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Toby knows. I knew it would happen eventually but I never thought it would come so soon. I always thought that I could retire peacefully and then tell a few select people the truth. Just a few. I've never been the ideal man or the ideal husband. I have my faults. But the thing that makes me the most mad over all is not that Toby didn't ask how I was or that the press will have a field day when we tell them, but that my whole administration will be summed up in two letters when I'm gone. Just two. MS. Years from now a child will be asked to say something about the Bartlett Administration and the child will reply, "MS." I've done so much more than that, though. I increased foreign trade, I put thirty-million new acres of land for conservation, and put Mendoza on the bench.

But now, the day before I go on television, it seems that someone's decided to help me. Someone other than CJ and Toby and Sam and Josh with their endless tips about going on television. What I should say and what I shouldn't. All day long I've been finding things like books and chocolates with Latin phrases on them. I would pick them up, read the phrase and put it in my pocket. By now, I have a significant pile books and candy wrappers on my desk. I ponder over the newest one, while munching on the Heath bar it was wrapped around. "llegitimi Non Carborundum," it reads. Don't let the bastards take you down.

I smile slightly. Best piece of advise I've gotten all day.