Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, POTUS & Rahm

It’s just past one a.m. in the little room off the Oval Office and Dr. Jekyll and his alter ego Mr. Hyde are meeting with President Obama and his chief of staff Rahm Emanuel, hereinafter referenced as J, H, O, and E, respectively, if not necessarily respectfully.

*J: I say, Barry, we met in this tiny closet last August to discuss the healthcare bill and I said then that you insulted us with such an arrangement, and here we are again giving up valuable time in the aristocracy to be demeaned by the hoi polloi in this…this…and these Styrofoam cups for tea…we’ve a mind to bug out, eh, Edward…just go back to…
*H: To civilization, of course…I’ve never felt comfortable in the colonies, but tell me, Rahm – you seem the type to enjoy it – how many old codgers have the death panels dispatched using the healthcare protocol…and how did they go, willingly or (drooling) maybe on the gallows…oh what fun that must have…(wild laughter)
*J: Stop it, Edward. Actually, he’s simply identifying with the profound morality of saving the taxpayers’ money by not extending costly infirmities of the old goats. But, what’s the subject this time, Barry…you said this time you wanted to be called commander-in-chief and we’ve observed on the BBC newscasts that you never let the peasants forget it but that’s so formal and Mr. President is so-o-o-o snobbish…just call us Henry and Edward and we’ll use Barry and Rahm, such a quaint name…Rahm…
*H: Sounds rather like one of those Buddhist mantras…R-a-a-h-h-m-m (hums)…then it’s off with some poor Christian’s head…egad, what a mantra…R-a-a-h-h-m-m…(closes eyes)
*O: (glaring) It’s like this, Henry, I’m gathering the best brains in the world to give me the proper gravitas to disrupt the proper derrieres in order to solve the oil-spill problem and…
*H: Oh you mean the jolly good arses to kick…is that it, Barry? I love the thought…I can see it now, the commander-in-chief lining up the proper czars and kicking their arses back to…oh, why not just kick in their heads, too, what I call the old Sir Danvers Carew Treatment…ah…I remember it well as I bashed in the old man’s head right there in the lane, although I ruined that perfectly good cane with the heavy knob…egad…I hated to lose that cane.
*E: (whispering) Henry, is Edward…you know…is he…
*J: No…he isn’t from Chicago. Actually, he simply dispatched an old man who should have had the decency, a la your healthcare plan, to forget fading away with old generals and just up and die, as they say in your mountain-William state of Kentucky.
*O: Mountain-William? Rahm, is there something I don’t know about…
*E: That’s Brit-talk for hillbilly, Commander-In-Chief. Wow…they must not know their geography out there in Hawaii. I thought everybody knew…
*H: Hillbilly…whoopee…(singing) Frankie and Johnny were sweethearts…and she plugged him with her old forty-four…rooty, toot, toot….R-a-a-h-h-m-m…plugged him with…
*J: Stop it, Edward…you’re off-key anyway. He’s simply singing about mountain-William justice, Rahm, something you should appreciate, being from Chicago, where even dead people have the right to vote.
*O: Please…back to the subject. You guys are here because you represent knowledge of the physical and mental conditions that qualify people for ass-kicking. Except for anybody in the administration – all of them geniuses – can you think of anybody’s ass I should kick?
*J: I say, Edward…did he mean us with that “guys” appellation…us…the epitome of refinement?
*E: What kind of pit? How could you have a pit of you? Commander-in-chief, do you sense a leg-pulling here or what?
*O: The only leg problem I’ve heard about belongs to that MSNBC guy, Chris Matthews. He says his leg tingles when I speak and he even forgot I was black while his leg was tingling when I made the State-of-the-union speech in…
*J: We may not be royalty but we certainly are not guys, Barry, and I expect an apology.
*O: Sorry about that, Henry…er, slip of the tongue. I’m accustomed to teleprompters that guarantee no such slips of the tongue. I even use one at the dinner table to make sure I don’t make Michelle mad. Everybody knows you’re mateys!
*H: MATEYS! Now, I believe he actually said he’d campaigned in 57 states and had only two more to go. Oh…hahahahahahaha…now he’s confused us Brits with Australians. (sings) Waltzing Matilda…waltzing Matilda…God save the queen…waltzing Matilda…
*E: Knock it off Edward. This is serious business. We absolutely must have by six this morning the names of asses to kick or Spike Lee will say Commander-in-chief here is too unemotional and needs to shout and scream and froth at the mouth and kick asses.
*O: Not to put too fine a point on it, gentlemen, the people I’ve tried to buy off and told not to run in the primaries have run anyway…and won, so I need to express the proper outrage at British Petroleum and the kick-ass scoundrels in Washington or I might lose part of Congress in November.
*J: You heard that, didn’t you, Edward? Now he’s blaming BP and threatening our whole pension system in England that’s pinned to BP stock. (toss of the head) And…gentlemen will do nicely, Barry.
*H: Oh yes, I heard, Henry. (sings) She plugged him with that .44…(reaches in his pocket)
*E: Hey…wait a minute…we’re not blaming BP for anything. The whole Gulf explosion was set up by Bush and Cheney…just like the WTC…Katrina…Freddie and Fannie…GM…
*H: Calm down, R-a-a-h-h-m-m (hums), I’m just checking the time.
*J: I say, Edward, do you think he should deploy Paul McCartney’s derriere to his navel area for implying that Barry’s predecessor was an idiot, especially in light of the current lunacy in this colony?
*O: I take that personally, Henry. McCartney was just calling attention to the current superior…
*E: Yeah…everyone – even Blago – knows that Bush had an eleventh-floor elevator in a twelve-story house.
*H: Eleventh-story elevator in a…oh, that’s a good one, R-a-a-h-h-m-m (hums)…and the poor souls who step through the doors at the top…oh…what a glorious, bloody mess, better than cracking the old boy’s skull…twelve stories and then…SPLAT…WHOOPEE!
*J: Pay no attention. Edward’s just pointing out the necessity of prudence when entering an elevator. I say, Edward, do we need a moment for a conference (H nods)…yes…excuse us, gentlemen. (J & H step outside for a minute, then return) We’ve reached decisions about the ass-kicking.
*O: Good…I’m dying for a smoke and Rahm has to mail a coupla dead fish. I’ve already kicked Mine/Minerals Chief Birnbaum under the bus, so she’s not in the picture. Maybe Jesse Jackson would qualify. He once said he wanted to cut off part of my anatomy and I haven’t forgotten that.
*H: Gentlemen, Henry and I have decided that you two should cast lots…roll the dice…draw straws…whatever ignorant colonists do these days to see who goes first, then take turns assuming the proper position and kicking each other until the respective derrieres are in roughly the area of the adenoids…oh hahahahahahaha…entrails trailing everywhere…blood in the Monica room…