“Mr. President…”

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August 28, 2012 by jamesessj

“Mr. President?”

“Yes?”

“We have a problem.”

“What is it?”

“It’s — my wife, sir.  She’s pregnant.”

“Helen’s pregnant? Well, congratulations, Tom!”

“Sir, the child — it’s yours.”

Mine?

“Yes, sir.”

“But I never slept with Helen!”

“Nevertheless, sir.”

“If I never slept with her, Tom, how can the child be mine?”

“Blood tests don’t lie, sir.”

“Tom, this is absurd. I did not get a child on your wife.”

“I’ve scheduled a press conference for later today, sir.”

“Why would you do that, Tom?”

“So that you can announce that you’re doing the right thing, Mr. President.”

“The right thing? What’s ‘the right thing,’ Tom?”

“You will resign the presidency, divorce your wife, and after a reasonable period, marry Helen and raise your child together.”

“Helen’s married to you, Tom.”

“We will also be getting a divorce. I’ve already contacted my attorney.”

“Tom, this is the stupidest–”

“Mr. President. I can’t say how it happened. I wasn’t there. But obviously something happened between you and my wife.”

“No it didn’t! I never touched Helen! She’s not even my type! She’s got that massive caboose and those bulging chameleon eyes — er, I mean, she’s a lovely woman, Tom, but she’s not my type.”

“She’s apparently your sperm’s type, sir.”

“Tom, that’s disgusting! I never touched her!

“She says you did, Mr. President.”

“What? Helen says I touched her? Where? When? When did I touch her?”

“She’s pregnant with your child, sir. It stands to reason you touched her sometime.”

“My god, the woman’s gotta be…what…close to sixty? How the hell is she pregnant in the first place?”

“It can happen, sir. In rare cases.”

“Jesus, by the time the kid’s of age he can attend his mother’s own memorial high school.”

“Helen comes of good hardy stock, Mr. President. She’s got plenty of time left on this earth. Plenty of time for you two to build a happy and productive life out of office.”

“Tom, please get this through your head:  I am not divorcing my wife and I am not resigning the presidency and I am not marrying Helen!”

“Then you force me to make the announcement myself, sir. That you have impregnated my wife but intend to take no responsibility for the child.”

“Tom — do you think it’s escaped my notice that you’re the Vice President? That, should I resign, you would become president?”

“I have only the nation’s best interests at heart, Mr. President.”

“What did you do, Tom? Did you extract my seed during the night with a syringe and then use it to knock up your own wife?”

“Mr. President!”

“Or is Helen even really pregnant? Did you falsify the blood tests, is that how this worked?”

“Mr. President, I warn you — if you do not resign the presidency at the four o’clock press conference–”

“Make your announcement, Tom! Go right ahead! I’m not afraid of you! I have the truth on my side, and the truth is, I wouldn’t touch Helen with a ten-foot pole!”

“You won’t survive this, sir. You won’t survive the firestorm that’s about to land on your doorstep.”

“You want my advice, Tom? Find a wire hanger.”

*   *   *

“Damn it, Sidney, you said it would work!”

“It will work, Mr. Vice President! The President is bluffing. He’ll cave. He has no choice.”

“He didn’t sound like a man on the verge of caving, Sidney. He sounded like a man on the verge of revealing a completely idiotic plot to unseat him as President of the United States!”

“He can’t take the chance. He won’t take the chance. He’s a politician. He cares about his legacy. He cares how he’ll be remembered.”

“He’s not going for it, I’m telling you, Sidney. He doesn’t care about the test results — he knows we faked them!”

“He can’t know that. He can only suspect it. And in the end, what will win out? His suspicions, or his common sense? The President impregnating the Second Lady of the United States? It’s the story of the century! The press will run wild! He can’t let it happen, Mr. Vice President. He won’t let it happen.”

“I wish I had your confidence, Sidney.”

“One thing you may trust, Mr. Vice President:  a politician to be a politician. No matter what.”

*   *   *

“Helen?”

“Mr. President? What a surprise — I didn’t–”

“Please don’t be frightened, Helen. I’m not here to intimidate you.”

“You’re the president, Mr. President. You’re intimidating regardless of the effort you put into it.”

“Please, call me Walter. I’m only here to try to understand, Helen…what the devil is going on…how can you be pregnant? And how can I be the father?”

“I — don’t understand it myself, fully. But I am pregnant. Tom showed me the blood test. They don’t lie.”

“They do when they’re fabricated.”

“You don’t think — Tom wouldn’t–”

“I think your husband’s an ambitious man, Helen. I think he’s had his eye on the presidency for thirty years, and he’s found a way to seize it.”

“Tom is an honorable man.”

“I didn’t give you a child, Helen. If you’re even with child. Have you had it independently confirmed?”

“A woman knows, Mr. — Walter.”

“Aren’t you — how to put this delicately — a little old to be in this condition, Helen?”

“Yes. I’m fifty-eight years old. I have three grown children.”

“And yet your husband shows you a blood test that shows you’re carrying the child of a man you’ve never had relations with and you don’t hesitate to consider he may be…using you for his own purposes?”

“I’ve known Tom since we were both sixteen years old. I’d trust him with my life.”

“I trusted him, too, Helen. Up until this morning. That’s a lesson Washington is good at teaching:  everyone’s trustworthy. Until they’re not.”

“Walter — you’re asking me to believe that my husband is…a liar…a deceitful piece of scum who would fake a blood test — or God forbid even somehow impregnate me with your fluids — and I’m sorry, but that’s not the Tom Anston I know.”

“Helen, we never slept together. How, how could I have given you this child?”

“You could have sleepwalked. I could have sleepwalked. It’s a million-to-one shot, but it’s conceivable.”

“It’s conceivable that we conceived…”

“That’s very clever, Mis — Walter.”

“I can’t divorce my wife, Helen. I can’t resign the presidency.”

“You’re a good man, Walter. I know you’ll make a fine father.”

I’m not the father!

“Walter, Walter. You need to relax. Let me rub your shoulders.”

“Oh, that’s all I need. A photo of the Vice President’s wife massaging the President.”

“The curtains are closed. No one will see.”

“Oh…oh…my god…you are good at that…”

“So much tension you carry in your muscles! You have more knots than the rigging on a tall ship.”

“That’s right, your father was an admiral…”

“In the Navy all his life.”

“Helen–”

“Shh. Let mama’s fingers work their magic.”

“Oh…oh my…sweet curdled milk, you’re amazing…”

“You have wonderful bone structure, Walter.”

“Mmm…so do you, Helen…I watch you from behind, you know…the way you fill out a dress…and your eyes…a man knows when your eyes are on him, he can’t miss them…”

“Walter. Your hand is on my knee.”

Your hands are on my chest.”

“I love a man with a hairy chest. Tom only has wisps.”

“Helen–”

“Walter.”

“Kiss me.”

“Mmmmfffff!”

“Oh, Helen!”

“Oh, Mr. President!”

*   *   *

“From Washington today, the stunning news:  President Walter Kirk has resigned the presidency effective noon tomorrow. Vice President Thomas Anston will be sworn in as the forty-sixth President of the United States. In even more stunning news, President Kirk has announced his divorce from First Lady Evelyn Kirk, his wife of thirty-two years, with whom he has two children, and announced his engagement to Second Lady Helen Anston, who in a joint statement also announced her divorce from Vice President, soon to be President, Anston. Shockwaves are still reverberating around the capitol from these earthshaking announcements, and rumors are swirling like dust devils — including, incredibly, that the fifty-eight-year old Second Lady is pregnant with President Kirk’s child. When asked at the press conference today whether the Second Lady was expecting, the President said slyly, “Well, if she isn’t already, she will be soon.”

*   *   *

“Evelyn?”

“Mr. Vice President — I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be. I should be apologizing for barging in on you like this–”

“No, no — I should be apologizing for what my husband has done to your family–”

“It’s…hardly your fault, Evelyn. Walter and Helen…well, who knows how long it had been going on?”

“I never suspected a thing. Not a thing. –Oh, I’m sorry, look at me, I can’t seem to stop crying…”

“It’s all right, Evelyn. It’s all right. Put your head here.”

“Oh, Tom! What am I going to do? I’m embarrassed, ashamed, humiliated! In front of the entire country!”

“That’s…actually what I came to talk to you about. My, you have soft hair.”

“I’ve always taken good care of it, ever since I was a little girl.”

“Mm. Evelyn — I hope I’m not being too forward when I say that…well…I’ve always found you a…very attractive person. Bright, and vivacious, so fit and trim! And your eyes, just the right size…”

“Tom, what are you saying?”

“That I want you, Evelyn. I have for a very long while.”

“But — Helen–”

“Helen has Walter.”

“What are you — oh my god, that’s amazing.”

“Your shoulders are so tense! Not that it’s any wonder, with everything you’ve been through. Just relax. Let daddy’s fingers work their magic.”

“Oh…mmmm…Tom, that is the best…”

“Evelyn…how would you like to…go on being the First Lady?”

“Tom.”

“Evelyn.”

“Kiss me.”

“Mmmmfffff!”

“Oh, Mr. Vice President!”

“Only till noon tomorrow, and then–”

“Yes! Yes! Mr. President!

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