A Fantasy

The hat. The tousled hair. That must be him. It is him. "How are you, Senator?" (You've got to be deferential when you're a junior senator from a state nobody's ever heard of.)

Boy, they sure are clearing out a path for him. Like a Security Council Meeting. Must be the hat.

Let me check my schedule. Oh good, we're safe. Nothing on the Third World until after lunch. I wish he weren't so tall. That hat makes him twice as tall. I wish he'd take it off.

Oh good, he took it off. His shoes too. He's still too tall.

The guy who sat there before was a nebbish, but I think I like the way he wore his hair better. Didn't neglect it like this guy does. But I suppose it's benign. (Note: this is an obligatory joke, which may be skipped at the discretion of the reader.)

Omigod. I missed this--he's supposed to deliver the invocation for the new session.

He's talking. He talks so nice. Not too bitter, not too sweet. A mixture of blarney and bravura. Hell's Kitchen boy, you know.

* * * * *

This speech is running on a little long. Alright, so what he did with that Glazer guy is interesting, but it ain't doing much for me. Think I'll leave. . .

Hey, isn't anybody awake in this place? Ed, you awake? Stu, what's going on?

Here's where I make good my escape. Only this elderly orthodox Jewish doorkeeper stands between me and the lunch with my deferential secretary I so richly deserve. . .

"Sir, sir, someone bring that man back here!"

Does he really mean me?

Is that nice little orthodox Jewish man really chasing me down the hall like I just took away his last bagel?

Why do those people love him so much? Must be the hat.