Nobody's Nightmare
'You are going to be the greatest president since Lincoln,' she said, as the limosine took them to the Rose Garden.
Bob Russell looked affectionately at his wife. 'Only you would think that.'
Devanny grinned back. 'You're going to have to be, I'm certainly not going to win you any votes.'
He felt that familiar feeling of dread that he always felt whenever this subject cropped up. Marrying a black woman twenty years younger than himself probably hadn't increased his popularity back home, particulary one that was English. One anoymous caller had left an abusive message on his office answerphone, demanding to know why if he was going to marry 'a n*****, why didn't he marry one of ours?'
Bob didn't care what the wannabe Ku Klun Klan members thought, particularly if the worst they were going to do was insult a machine, but it had rattled Devanny. Even mainstream Colorado conservatives had been aghast at the idea of their congressman being involved with a feminist who wrote satirical fantasy novels poking fun at society. 'You should be marrying a Janet Ritchie clone,' she told him tearfully one night. He was appalled. 'Being manacled to some frumpy, boring, Stepford wife out of political expediency is my idea of hell! Who *cares* what these losers think?' It hasn't entirely defused the situation, but she had been charmed nonetheless. Now he had been appointed Vice President, and there was every possibility he would become President at the end of Bartlet's term. She seemed pleased for him, but he knew she was worried about how the press were going to treat her.
'Look on the bright side, sugar, it'll sell a few books,'joked Bob.
'Brilliant,' giggled Devanny. 'Maybe we should have thrown in a few boxes in the back of the limo to flog to the crowd. Buy two, get one free. That'd give them something to do instead of listening to you and Bartlet bleat on.'
'Hey,' he protested, 'I never bleat. I may rant, pontificate and ramble, but I am morally opposed to bleating. It makes you blind, doncha know.' He was glad he'd managed to change the subject.
'Yeah, it rots your teeth and gives you brain damage, too.'
'Gives you ingrown toenails and makes your hair fall out.'
'Now you're just being silly, Bob.'
They laughed like children as the car pulled up outside the White House.
*******
'Assholes! Bastards! They should get the goddam sack!' fumed Bob as he paced up and down in his office after the ceremony.
Devanny was quiet. 'I don't think you should make too much out of this, Bobby.'
'What?!' He was appalled. 'Who's side are you on?'
'Yours love, but think about it. When the press tried to make a big deal out of Lassiter's age, he joked that he wouldn't exploit his opponent's youth and inexperience. You and I both know all that Bingo Bob stuff is a load of bollocks, but you know what the press are like. They've annointed you the bloke with no brains, and if you don't do something about it, you'll remain the bloke with no brains for the next twelve years.'
'Touch wood.'
Devanny looked amused. 'What, on being thought of as the bloke with no brains?'
'You know what I mean, silly girl,' he said, but he was smiling.
'Maybe you should talk to this Bailey guy. It was actually kind of funny. He might be the one to help you out with your image problem.'
Bob was surprised. 'You think?'
'Maybe. If he thinks of you in that light, he might be one of the people best placed to help change public perception of you.'
He grinned. 'I guess it's worth a try. It's better than being stuck being nobody's nightmare. Stay here, I'll go speak to him now.'
He kissed her fondly and walked out the door.
'You are going to be the greatest president since Lincoln,' she said, as the limosine took them to the Rose Garden.
Bob Russell looked affectionately at his wife. 'Only you would think that.'
Devanny grinned back. 'You're going to have to be, I'm certainly not going to win you any votes.'
He felt that familiar feeling of dread that he always felt whenever this subject cropped up. Marrying a black woman twenty years younger than himself probably hadn't increased his popularity back home, particulary one that was English. One anoymous caller had left an abusive message on his office answerphone, demanding to know why if he was going to marry 'a n*****, why didn't he marry one of ours?'
Bob didn't care what the wannabe Ku Klun Klan members thought, particularly if the worst they were going to do was insult a machine, but it had rattled Devanny. Even mainstream Colorado conservatives had been aghast at the idea of their congressman being involved with a feminist who wrote satirical fantasy novels poking fun at society. 'You should be marrying a Janet Ritchie clone,' she told him tearfully one night. He was appalled. 'Being manacled to some frumpy, boring, Stepford wife out of political expediency is my idea of hell! Who *cares* what these losers think?' It hasn't entirely defused the situation, but she had been charmed nonetheless. Now he had been appointed Vice President, and there was every possibility he would become President at the end of Bartlet's term. She seemed pleased for him, but he knew she was worried about how the press were going to treat her.
'Look on the bright side, sugar, it'll sell a few books,'joked Bob.
'Brilliant,' giggled Devanny. 'Maybe we should have thrown in a few boxes in the back of the limo to flog to the crowd. Buy two, get one free. That'd give them something to do instead of listening to you and Bartlet bleat on.'
'Hey,' he protested, 'I never bleat. I may rant, pontificate and ramble, but I am morally opposed to bleating. It makes you blind, doncha know.' He was glad he'd managed to change the subject.
'Yeah, it rots your teeth and gives you brain damage, too.'
'Gives you ingrown toenails and makes your hair fall out.'
'Now you're just being silly, Bob.'
They laughed like children as the car pulled up outside the White House.
*******
'Assholes! Bastards! They should get the goddam sack!' fumed Bob as he paced up and down in his office after the ceremony.
Devanny was quiet. 'I don't think you should make too much out of this, Bobby.'
'What?!' He was appalled. 'Who's side are you on?'
'Yours love, but think about it. When the press tried to make a big deal out of Lassiter's age, he joked that he wouldn't exploit his opponent's youth and inexperience. You and I both know all that Bingo Bob stuff is a load of bollocks, but you know what the press are like. They've annointed you the bloke with no brains, and if you don't do something about it, you'll remain the bloke with no brains for the next twelve years.'
'Touch wood.'
Devanny looked amused. 'What, on being thought of as the bloke with no brains?'
'You know what I mean, silly girl,' he said, but he was smiling.
'Maybe you should talk to this Bailey guy. It was actually kind of funny. He might be the one to help you out with your image problem.'
Bob was surprised. 'You think?'
'Maybe. If he thinks of you in that light, he might be one of the people best placed to help change public perception of you.'
He grinned. 'I guess it's worth a try. It's better than being stuck being nobody's nightmare. Stay here, I'll go speak to him now.'
He kissed her fondly and walked out the door.
