We were minding our own business when a call came in: “Standby, Big Red Car, the Speaker of the House of Representatives, the one and only Nancy D’Alesandro Pelosi, would like a word with you. Let me warn you, she’s drunk with victory.”
In the background, I could hear the woman who called me saying, “Your Highness, I have that annoying Big Red Car for you.”
“Hello, Madame Speaker, what an unexpected pleasure,” I said.
“Stow it, you bucket of rusty bolts. I have a few things I want to get out and you’re my lucky pawn today. I just emailed you a list of questions you will ask me. Tell me when you have received my email and make it snappy. I have important people to talk to.”
“Madame Speaker, I have the email. Shall I begin?” It was not a long list.
“Please try to keep up. I already told you what to do.”
“So, Madame Speaker, how goes your providential effort to assist the little people suffering in the horrific pandemic economy?”
“We have passed a visionary, brilliant $904,000000,000 relief bill to take care of our beloved citizens after monumental opposition from Cocaine Mitch and his deplorable Senate members. It was only because of heroic efforts by the House and our Democratic Senate colleagues that it happened.”
I could feel her pride through the airwaves. My phone felt warm to the touch. My palms began to sweat.
“Not to put too fine a point on it, Madame Speaker, but isn’t the $904,000,000,000 COVID Relief deal exactly the same deal that was available eight months ago? In fact, didn’t the White House offer a bill twice that big?”
Speaker Nancy did that thing wherein she moved her tongue and false teeth around in the manner that resembles a cow chewing its cud. She made a deep sigh and continued.
“The Republicans would not give us a blank check and their manhood to stuff the bill with a trillion dollars for the broke states and cities plus the trial lawyers wanted their pound of flesh. This is not easy.
“Doesn’t this bill give the trial lawyers their pound of flesh plus more?”
“Listen, Big Red Car, I can do this interview with anybody, but I chose to do it with you. Please show some respect. Trial lawyers get theirs? Yes. I always take care of those ghouls. Who do you think funds my re-election?”
“Madame Speaker, it is true that you could have delivered this relief to the millions of businesses and individuals suffering whilst you were showing off your lovely kitchen and your collection of $15 ice cream pints, isn’t it?”
“Do I have to spell it out for you, your moron?” Nancy asked, her face, her 80-year-old face with all the skid marks from multiple bouts of plastic surgery, red with a light line of sweat droplets on her upper lip, her chest heaving. This was a Speaker in Heat.
“Please do, Nan. Please do.”
“If I had allowed that bill to pass who might have gotten the credit?”
“The President? The Orange man?” I asked, knowing I was correct.
“Bingo,: she said shaking her head in disbelief. “Why did I hold it up? Because I care only about the political power I can wrest from the Republicans and Orangeman. Do I care that millions of people are suffering? No. I don’t give a rat’s ass.”
I was starting to think Nan had lost it, but she recovered quickly.
“Madame Speaker, how about the 75,000,000,000 people who voted for Orange Man? They were genuinely suffering. Do you care about them?”
She licked her lips before leaning forward, making eye contact in that Glenn Close “Fatal Attraction” way she can.
“Do I care about 75,000,000 deplorables, low-educated, smelly Walmart voters? Do I look like a woman who cares if their hopes, dreams, families, and businesses are wrecked by my delay in approving the COVID19 Relief bill? The wailing of their children, the lamentations of their women are music to my ears. Watch my lips, idiot. No. I could not possibly care less. I care more about Fang Fang and whether Swalwell found her G spot than I do about those chumps.”
“Total political muscle? Purely to hurt the Trump guy?” I asked, afraid to breathe.
“Totally,” she said, licking her lips, running a red painted finger along them.
“How can you be so callous?” I asked, truly wondering.
“We won the fucking election, moron. The election is over. Call me in 2022 when I will pretend to care again.”
“Speaking of the election? Fraud? Cheating? Steal the election?”
“Ancient news. Let’s move on, close ranks, unify behind Joe Biden and Kamala. Let’s just hold hands, forget about the cheating and sing that song — you know the one. What is it?
“Kumbaya?”
“OK, whatever. So, cheating? Fuck off, Big Red Car. The election is over. Deal with it.”
“So, the whole no-mask, hair blowout thing in San Francisco?” I asked, trying to recover my footing after that revelation.
“Ancient news, Gear Head. I am a big, important person. Rules are for the little people. One more question.”
“The whole impeachment thing? Did you ever think there was a shot at a conviction?”
“Do you have a cracked block? Has somebody forgotten to change your oil? Gap a spark plug? I never thought anybody but the lobotomized media would even consider it. I had to convince Jerry Nadler. Jerry Nadler!”
“Why did you do it?”
“Why? To dirty Orange Man up. Everything I did was to soil that bastard. Thank God for COVID. The guy was going to run away with it.”
“Swalwell? Are you going to drop him from the Intel Committee?”
“I have a razor thin majority to re-elect me to the Speaker thingy. I’m going to offend a dimwit like Swalwell and risk losing his vote for the Speaker? Right after I’m re-elected watch how fast I neuter that doltard.”
“So, bottom line — it’s all about power, control with you, right?”
“Remind me why I ever granted you this interview, Big Red Car? Just for the record, the FBI does think that Swallwell tipped her off they were closing in and that’s why she took off. The FBI says Swallwell did, in fact, find her G Spot. So, again, why did I give this interview to you?”
“Cause you’re 80 and losing it? Cause Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is gaining on you?”
“I’m coming for you, you fossil.”
“Oh, please, you dunce. It’s her fault we lost all those down ballot races. Defund the police? I’m down to a majority advantage, my entire muscle — of what? Eight votes? I need every vote I can find. (Where’s gap-toothed Stacey when you need her, eh?) Hell, I might sleep with Swalwell.”
“Madame Speaker, this has been an enlightening chat. Thank you for speaking to me.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m going to have you neutered. Now, I have to go to the celebration of our brilliant work. Tata.”
“Thank you again, Speaker Pelosi.”
