- George Bush sits quietly at his desk in the Oval Office.
Suddenly, with a puff of acrid, yellow smoke, a dark figure appears at
his shoulder, arrogantly leaning an elbow against the back corner of the
big leather chair. He wears a soot-stained stovepipe hat, a rumpled, dusty
suit, and his whiskered, rather cherubic face has an almost benign smile
as he gazes down.
-
- "Ahem, ah, Mr. President, I do believe we have some
business?"
-
- Although he immediately recognizes the figure, the President
is astonished at this sudden appearance. With his face drained of color,
he reaches instinctively for the hidden buzzer to the Secret Service at
the edge of his desk.
-
- "Mr. President, all those gadgets have been disabled.
Surely, by now, you have more respect for my powers than that?
-
- "Oh," with a rude little chuckle, "and
until we've transacted our business, no one will be able to come through
the door."
-
- "Mr. Scratch, I meant no disrespec'·"
-
- "I'm sure, Mr. President."
-
- "It's what they all taught me to do if anyone's
here, ya know, without an appointment an' all·"
-
- "Yes, quite, Mr. President. Now, about our business·"
-
- "But ain't there more'an two years left on ma contract?"
-
- "Ah, indeed, two years, one month, eleven days,
and fifty-four minutes, to be exact." The dark figure reaches out,
and, again with a sulphurous little puff of smoke, a sheet of paper appears
in his hand. He reaches down and waves it in front of the President's face.
-
- "Perhaps, you would care to review the terms, Mr.
President?"
-
- "I'm sure you're right, Mr. Scratch, you're mighty
careful 'bout these things."
-
- "Careful, indeed, Mr. President, which brings me
to the point of my little visit.
-
- As you know, the original contract was for seven years."
-
- The President, his face withered and frightened, mechanically
shakes his head in agreement.
-
- "And then there was the matter of an extension we
negotiated?"
-
- The President again shakes his head.
-
- "And I trust there's no disagreement about the party
of the second part," with another gruff chuckle, "that's me,
having met fully all terms agreed?"
-
- Still another doleful shake of the head.
-
- "It says here, 'One George W. Bush, having succeeded
at virtually nothing in his adult lifetime, except getting into a whole
lot of embarrassing trouble, fighting with his family, and consuming inordinate
amounts of alcohol, in return for certain services, specified below, promises
his immortal soul to the said Mr. Scratch,' that is," chuckle, chuckle,
"yours truly."
-
- Here the figure makes a slight flourish, briefly doffing
his hat and creating a small cloud of soot.
-
- "Services rendered in return," clearing his
throat, "Ah, just summarizing here, Mr. President, include making
a killing on a baseball team, becoming governor of Texas, and in general
having gained recognition for turning around a worthless life."
-
- The figure looks down at the President with a somewhat
twisted smile.
-
- "Yielding you, I might add, boundless goodwill from
legions of pious-fraud fundamentalists. Is that not right, Mr. President?"
-
- Again, almost like a sleepwalker responding to unseen
voices, the President shakes his head.
-
- "The extension to the contract assured your becoming
- you'll note, Mr. President, the very careful language about 'becoming,'
with nothing said about 'being elected' - President of the United States."
-
- Another dull shake of the head.
-
- "Well, it doesn't allow for a second term, now does
it, Mr. President?"
-
- "Mr. Scratch, I jus' reckoned when ya consider the
kinda president I been·"
-
- "You mean loosing the forces of war, ignorance,
and misery upon the world?"
-
- "Why, sure, ain't I done a good job on that?"
-
- "Agreed, Mr. President, but I wouldn't expect anything
else of a man who's made the kind of bargain you have.
-
- "You'll recall, when we negotiated the extension,
that you wanted credit for all the prisoners executed in Texas. And all
the slimy business deals you winked at, defrauding all kinds of decent
folks. I admit such activity keeps good trade coming my way, but, strictly
speaking, Mr. President, they just aren't part of our terms."
-
- "But look'it the stuff we're doin'. We're redesignin'
the country. Givin' it back to the folks what owns it, an' armin' 'em to
the teeth so's they kin keep it. Ya can't go makin' omelets like that without
breakin' a mighty heap of eggs. Why, I kin guarantee it'll mean years of
misery for all them losers out there."
-
- "Again, Mr. President, I hate to be like one of
your heartless corporate contributors, but that's just not part of our
deal. No, No, what you do with the office I gave you is up to you."
-
- "But surely, Mr. Scratch, recognizin' what a great
job I'm doin' here for you, we could come to some understandin' 'bout another
li'le extension?"
-
- "Well, I see what it is you want from me, Mr. President,
but it just fails me what you're offering that I don't already have. The
contract states clearly that the immortal soul of one George W. Bush is
to be delivered up promptly at expiration·."
-
- "Ain't there nothin' I kin do for an extension,
Mr. Scratch?
-
- "Ah, that desperate, pleading tone does appeal to
my better side. Come to think of it, there just may be, Mr. President."
-
- The President regains some color, and, for the first
time, there's some animation in his manner, "Yes, yes, what is it?"
-
- "Well, I'm not so sure you'll share my enthusiasm
for the idea."
-
- Looking like a puppy about to be handed a treat, "Mr.
Scratch, I'll do jus' 'bout anythin', honest to God!
-
- A severe, disapproving look flashes across the dusty
figure's face.
-
- "Oh, I'm mighty sorry 'bout that, but like I said,
I'll do jus' 'bout anythin'."
-
- "I do like your attitude, and I'll note it in my
little book.
-
- "Mr. President, it does bother me considerably that
a mob of evangelical frauds in silk suits - you know the ones I mean, there
isn't one of them not headed my way when their days of fleecing lonely
folks watching television are ended - get all the credit for your conversion.
You and I both know the truth of the matter. I would be strongly tempted,"
ha, ha, "to further extend your contract in return for a promise to
tell people the truth."
-
- The President again turns ashen, "I jus' don't see
how that's possible, Mr. Scratch?"
-
- "Oh, I don't insist you just go and blurt it out.
You may do it slowly over a period of time. You may use all the arts of
twisting the truth, so long as in the end this one truth comes out. That
doesn't seem like too great a task for the caliber of people you've surrounded
yourself with."
-
- "But, Mr. Scratch, how kin I tell folks I made a
deal with the devil?"
-
- "Well, given your resources and past record of achievement,
I do not see an insurmountable barrier. A lot of folks will have already
guessed the truth. It's the ones that roll around in church aisles babbling
incoherently or go to meetings to get slapped in the head to heal cancer
that are going to be a might difficult to reach. But these are your people,
and you are, after all, asking a great service of me. I rarely extend contracts.
Two extensions is almost unheard of."
-
- "But suit yourself, Mr. President. Right now it's
the only offer that would entice me," chuckle, chuckle, "into
so extraordinary an act."
-
- "I, I jus' don't see·"
-
- "As you please, Mr. President. I will claim what's
mine on the stroke of midnight two years, one month, eleven days, and forty
nine minutes, hence, unless, of course, you see your way to improving my
image with the public. After all, it's no small miracle I've worked in
your case. People just might look at me in a whole new light if they only
knew the truth."
-
- "But·but·"
-
- "I'll leave it at that, Mr. President. You can let
me know anytime right up until expiration. Just snap your fingers twice
and consider it done for a second term."
-
- The dark figure instantly disappears in another puff
of acrid smoke.
|
