1.b.
“Georgie we
can’t lose sight of the prize,” Ronald Regan said. He wore a powder blue sweater-vest over a
bright-yellow collared shirt with a hot-pink neck tie. He had no pants on. His briefs were white. And a little snug.
“I know, I
know. Trickle down. Let it trickle down,” George Bush said,
wiggling his fingers and pantomiming rain.
His tone and his gesture left no doubt in Ronald Regan’s mind that he
was being mocked. He did not appreciate
the tone, nor did he appreciate George Bush’s navy blue suit, though the zebra
print tie was nice.
“It works,”
Regan said.
“Not really.”
“Yes it
does. We trickle down just enough to
keep them alive but leave them hungry so they’ll have something to focus their
attention on.”
“Can you put
some pants on?”
Ronald Regan
shrugged and said, “Guess so.”
“Well, please
do. Press ever got a shot of this they’d
call us fags.”
“I’m sorry,
but it’s difficult. There are so many
options for color combinations these days.
Do I go with pink to match the tie, yellow for the shirt, or maybe mix
it up with some lime green?”
“White.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” said
George Bush.
“Doesn’t seem
too safe?”
“White
pants. White shoes. White belt.
And hurry up.”
“Okay, okay,”
Ronald Regan said. He pulled on a pair
of gleaming white slacks.
“Finally,”
Corporate Man called out, jumping down from above. “I hate fighting half naked men. The papers always skew the story when that
happens.”
The two
politicians nodded in agreement.
“Yes. I’ve seen the shots of you and FDR,” George
Bush said, his hands held in front of him in a pseudo-karate style.
“That was a
more innocent time,” said Corporate Man, adjusting his tie.
“How did you
get in here anyway? There’s only one
door and plenty of secret service. And
where were you hiding?”
“I snuck in,”
said Corporate Man, his tone slightly defensive.
“And where
were you hiding?” George Bush asked again.
“Up
there.” Corporate Man pointing in a
vague, upward direction.
“But there are
no rafters up there. No places to–”
Corporate Man
punched George Bush in the face, turned toward Ronald Regan, and said, “So
Ronnie, shall we do this the easy–”
But Ronald
Regan was already upon him, also dropping down from a vague upward direction,
calling out, “Trickle down! Trickle
down!” and wiggling his fingers as he fell.
Small bursts of light flashed at his finger tips, blinding Corporate Man
with a glaring yellow radiance.
