Breakfast Briefing

“It’s downright fishy. Something is up. No man can be that satisfied with himself, Sir.”

“What, exactly, are you suggesting?” Asked the President, as he stared at a very unflattering picture of himself in today’s paper.

“No man should be this satisfied with himself sir,” said the aide.

“Sir, i’m not suggesting anything. All I’m trying to say is: is it not the least bit suspicious that a man such as his Excellency Sir, should be found muttering to himself, so often?”

“Hold that thought,” said the President, frowning concernedly, “but who is the cartoonist who made this caricature? I do believe the exaggerated nose was uncalled for. Get him on the phone will you?”

“Very good sir,” said the personal aide, with a hand motion to his own personal aide. “It is being taking care of.”

“Hmmm.” said the president, finally laying the paper aside, “So what is this you are saying?”

“These are the facts of the case sir,” said The Aide, leaning forward, “The other day, I walked into a room and there was the vice president, muttering to himself. “Yes, yes,” he said, “soon i shall have victory.” I heard this before he looked up startled and noticed me. Not only this sir, but yesterday, i found him smiling and rubbing his hands with relish. He was looking at you Sir, from behind a curtain.”

“So?” asked Mr President dubiously.

“And then this morning I stumbled upon him reading a copy of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. He was flipping through the pages with a manic look in his eye.”

“So basically the man is enjoying himself and likes classic literature. You might as well fault me for my astounding good dress sense and knowledge of hats.” Said the President as he lifted a very expensive piece of toast to his mouth, almost as if he intended to eat it.

“Sir in light of your differences…”

“Yes..?” said the president, chewing the piece of toast as if he intended to swallow it.

“In light of recent events…”

“Go on,” The president encouraged.

“Considering the recent catastrophes and calamities we have all endured as a nation…”

“I’m listening,” he said, lifting a cup of coffee as if he intended to drink it.

“I do believe sir, that the Vice President may be plotting to finish…”

“Hello,” said the Vice President walking in at that moment. “Lovely weather we’re having, is it not?”

“Er, ” said the President, glancing suspiciously aside, “If you say so. Although I find early morning thunderstorms a bit daunting, to be honest. But that it is a matter of personal taste and opinion.”

“Ah, “said the Vice President looking out the windows into the dark sheets of falling rain, “This is the sort of atmosphere…The thunder..the clashes of lightning…it goes quite well with what I have in mind. Beware the ides of March, and so forth…”

“Enough!” cried the Aide, rising to his feet in righteous indignation, “I will stand no more of this. Confess, Sir, what your sinister plot is! I know you have been up to something! What is it? Confess! Tell all!”

“I fear,” said the Vice President gravely, “that i am discovered. Mr. President, this is what it boils down to. Thrice i have offered you a wrinkly gown, and thrice you have refused. You crushed me then, My president, embarrassed me in front of your aides, their aides, your wife and her aides. There is nothing wrong in having one’s gown a little wrinkled, and I hatched a plot to pay you back. Look within your dresser, and see what i have done!”

The President nodded gravely to his aide, who stepped out of the room. He came back a few minutes later.

“It is true, sir,” he told the President, “he has somehow connived to have all your gowns wrinkled. I do not know how he did it.”

“But why,” asked the President shocked, “how could you do something like this?”

“Remember the party sir? The one we attended 8 months ago? A red tie you said. Wear a red tie. Only for you to turn up in a black bow tie. Looking really good too. Oh i smiled for the cameras, but inside me i burned. I burned. And i have not forgotten. The cut of your suits have always been better than mine. But that day? That was the most unkindest cut of all.”

The Vice President walked toward the door, “And now, that you have a closet full of wrinkly gowns, I ask you: how does it feel?”

The President bowed his head sadly.

“One more thing,” said the Vice President, before stepping out the door, “Yon Cassius,” he said, looking at the Aide, “Yon Cassius hath a lean and hungry look. I wonder, has he had any breakfast?”

And so saying, he stepped out of the door, almost as if he intended to leave the room.

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4 Responses to SAMBO’S REVENGE.

  1. frankices says:

    Lol. Once again, I read it with British accent in my head.

    I have missed this.

  2. Wandoo says:

    Oh dear. Our President is always intending to do things. Yes, I agree with frankices. The subtlety is so British.

  3. Ada Campbell says:

    This is pure genius. Political satire in its best form. Will you pls write on my blog?

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