Chapter 8: "Hostage-Taking 101"

I had just completed my one task for every day after my morning national security briefing: read and veto a Republican bill to dismantle Obamacare. So what else was there to do for the rest of the day? I was snoozing away on my antique French baroque sofa when Shaggy knocked on the door.

"Enter!" I shouted from the sofa. Shaggy marched in.

"The Republicans are pissed about you closing military bases in the Middle East. They want you to reverse your decision."

"Just like that? Just because they want me to? Fuck 'em!" I rolled back over to snooze on my French baroque sofa.

"Paul Ryan, Speaker of the House of Representatives, will be here to discuss the matter with you in about 15 minutes."

I rolled over again to face Shaggy. "I don't recall inviting Representative Ayn Rand to come talk to me."

"He got no invitation. He's just showing up."

"Well show him the door. Fuck him. I've got better things to do." I rolled over, scratched my ass, and resumed the snooze position. I never did learn how to be lady-like.

"He's on his way. I've informed him that he needed to seek an invitation. He doesn't care."

"He's going to just barge in?"

"Yup. Couldn't be troubled to ask. Too important to bother. Yup." Shaggy did his best Mitch McConnell imitation.

I dashed into a closet where I kept my Halloween costumes for special diplomatic occasions. Wicked Witch of the West. Perfect. I quickly pulled the costume over my head and donned the mask and hat. Shaggy sat down in the hallway to watch for Speaker Ryan.

"He's here!" announced Shaggy. Ryan walked in.

"Oh, sorry, Hillary! I was looking for the President!"

"That's me, you fool. Can't tell me from Hillary Clinton?"

"Apparently not."

"What do you want, interloper? I'm busy!"

"It is unacceptable for national security to shut down U.S. military bases in the Middle East."

"The decision has already been made and is being implemented right now. It's a bit late to kick up a fuss."

"It is unacceptable for national security to shut down U.S. military bases in the Middle East." Ryan repeated himself. I pressed a button to call for White House security.

"Get out!"

"We can discuss this."

"Get out!" What was taking security so long to get here?

"We can negotiate."

"Oh, you want to bargain. It would have to be something really good for me to reverse myself almost immediately and look like a fool."

"What do you want?" asked Ryan. He seemed to be almost pleading.

"Socialized national health care system like Canada."

"Not happening. Suggest something else."

"Comprehensive publicly-owned subway systems in every city of more than 500,000 and comprehensive publicly-owned bus systems in every city of more than 50,000."

"Not happening. Suggest something else." Security had arrived.

"A universal right to housing in the United States. A sort of minimum housing benefit for citizens."

"Not happening. Name something else." I nodded to security.

"Get him out of here."

"Universal minimum income benefit to replace all the bureaucratic welfare programs!" shouted Ryan as security grabbed him. I waved security off.

"I'm listening. What do you propose?"

"A universal minimum income benefit equal to a typical food stamp benefit for everyone. No qualification necessary."

"You propose to replace all anti-poverty programs with a cash benefit equal to the food stamp benefit? Surely you're joking! The poor would be much worse off than now!" I nodded to security to grab Ryan again.

"Name your minimum benefit!" shouted Ryan as security started pulling him toward the door. I nodded to security to stop.

"A guaranteed minimum income benefit for all citizens equal to the minimum social security benefit," I announced.

"You can't take national security hostage!" blustered Ryan.

"You Republicans assfucked Obama with the debt ceiling and routine funding bills for six straight years. Don't talk to me about hostage-taking." I nodded to security.

"Get him out of here! The Wicked Witch is weary of Republicans!" I stuck my costume nose in the air, scratched my ass, and flumped down on my French baroque sofa to continue my nap. As George W. Bush might say, being President is a lot of hard work.

End of Chapter 8