“Your Well-Done Mistake, Mr. McCarthy”

A parody short story on a Prompt by Rep. Kevin McCarthy.

It was the restaurant in Washington DC where every patron was a pin-up in a film-noir bebop - The Bifocle. It was a restaurant in which all the people who are somebody go to slabbed with other people who are somebody. There are dark politics in the 2020s, and to them, you must flee. Business was good at the club: the place was full of people, and noise, but not enough smoke. But the cash register was always happy to greet someone so important as the speaker.

The dining room was one of the swankest in the beloved swamp-hole which was the nation’s capital and capitol. All of the servers were wearing like from the bottom of their shoes to their cap. The standing figure was the head waiter for the cable and the city figure was an old man with white hair and a smirking grin on his face, and the waiter did not ask what was in his pants. You don’t want to ask the leader of the people’s house who might be eating him.

It is not polite in the rude kinda way. It is something you learn in Kindergarten if you manage to stay in school that long. On the majorities side that will be 50/50 because that science stuff will lead you down some ugly black holes to reality.

Up on the balcony, there were two gateways to watch the view – for black for the news and white for the commentary.

“How are you doing today, absurd?”

“Just wonderful today. The usual of burning down the house.” One thing about the Speaker is that he pretends to be nice to you, especially if he is about to knife you in the back. It is a matter of politeness, precisely, it is how he prays upon his business.

The head waiter hustled up to him because the fat tip made up for the lean conversation that the waiter had to endure.

“The usual table today, absurd?”

“Yes, the one by the Maltese falcon.”

 Leading him to his normal people the waiter pulled his chair and then cut down to taking the order because, with men as unserious as this, no decision is made about what to eat, only about who will be starved on the outside.

The Speaker removed the fedora and put it on the table.

“Are you ready to order, absurd?”

“Can I order the stake to my order?”

“It will be cooked to your order, absurd.”

“Then bring on! I will have the stake. Medium raw.”

With nails, absurd?”

“Of course.”

“Very good sir. What are your sides going to be?” Or going to be on?

“What bad and out of season?”

“Of course, the is bipartisanship, sir.”

“Will it mind if I ordered it and then insulted it?”

“The sides have a meeting, well you know off to the side,” As the saying goes: If everyone tells the same story they gotten together and fix it. “but I don’t think that would be wise. we have the usual set, but I really would recommend the Pharm Gnocchi, absurd.” The waiter was tending the coins because the head chef had a beaucoup of plates to move.

“Is it fresh?”

“It’s too fresh at least.”

“Then I will have the Pharm Gnochi and the smashed to-ribbons potatoes.”

“We don’t have potatoes we only have potahtoes. Entertained the toes have replaced by fingers.”

“So long as the figures are to the left, that should be sufficient.”

“Very good, sir. What would you like to drink?”

“Normally I drink blood. Do you have any?”

“We are unfortunately all out of iron blood, absurd.”

“That is all right there is no shipping money to Ikraine this year. What do you have? As much personality as a paper cup?”

“What do you like me to send the summit gay to your table and he could advise you, sir.”

“That’s all right many of my followers don’t like to use that word. In fact, it’s even a law in one state.”

“I … see … absurd. How did they staff Disney?”

“Disney is its own mistake within a mistake.”

“Anything else, absurd?”

“ I will think about desert later.”

“Always best.” The waiter picks up the menu. And quickly left.

The vultures were circling.

 Before the food was even served a thin man in a gray suit came on top. He was from Virginia. You could tell because his nails were filed and clean.

Looking up from his table the speaker saw the member from the opposite side of the world and simply motioned him to take a seat.

The speaker started. The speaker always started the conversation. “How are you?”

 The thin man first talked a moment to settle into his seat, and then reposted out of his wicked jaw: “I am worried about the vote tomorrow. It’s going to be a long roll call.”

“Don’t be, it is in the bag. Our voters select the dimmest candidate. Though there are complaints from the other chamber. Win some, lose some.”

“Yes, but which side holds the bag? It only takes one person to murder a man. And you have a few that might be willing to stand up for the chance to poison pigeons and knock the pumpkin out of the park. And you know that murder can taste like honeysuckle.”

“That’s why I never sleep.”

“It gets in the way of the nightmares.”

“Especially when they come during the day.”

The thin man looked dubious.

“I think you have a problem that needs to be solved.”

“Don’t worry! It is just a case of child recovery. The Democrats want to keep the government open. I will do that. 45 days at a time.”

“For a small fee.”

“Plus handling charges - we are the Crapatalist Party. It is a play out of Adam Schmidt.”

“Make sure the opposition is not playing with Monopoly money.”

“Anything else? I have lots of things to avoid.”

“Just to warn you, the Member from Fluoridated will be here.”

“He is standing right behind you.”

With that, the Thin Man shook the speaker’s hand, then blew a kiss behind him, and left.

The member from Fluoridated pulled out and plopped down.

“Well, you had your fun, I see. What do you want?”

“I wanna watch you bleed.”

“Why can’t you see that I’m not making sense? I have pulled out of the game.”

“And put it back in.” And in and out and in and out.

“You don’t understand. I want it all, and I want it now.”

“You have a one-track mind.” The Speaker was beginning to want the food he had ordered. But he looked around and saw no head waiter. But then he wouldn’t, because the head waiter was in the back counting fresh Simoleans from the orange cloud 10 trade.

“My people have spoken: they want lower taxes for billionaires, a big military, and all the infrastructure they can work on.”

“I want those things to. But it takes a bit of time to get the Democrats to vote for them because the Democrats want to but only with more unless and grace.”

“But the Democrats don’t want oil to be cheap and rolling off the gulf.”

“That’s that science thing. They do have some god-awful obsession with.”

“But if they came to Jesus, they would know that he does all the oil that we would ever want and let somebody else figure out what to do in a generation or so. That’s the attraction of the South: be stupid get petroleum. Why then will have carbon capture we already have the sequestration working here right now in the People’s House. It’s a lot better than quarantine you have to admit.”

“You know the donks, they want to pay for everything. Like with real money.”

“But you know there is no real money here, I went to Congress, and I have not touched the stuff personally. Every phant know this.”

“But there are fewer and fewer people who identify with the two major parties and prefer to think of themselves as independents. I have to work with these people.”

“And you’re going to be welcome to the jungle.” The gentlemen from the state of Fluoridated rolled back from the table with his feet making the chair stand on two legs.

“I did see we’re not getting anywhere.”

“I think my side has I have the votes. You are trusted, not by the entire phant caucus in certainly not in the donks. And everybody here follows like sheep.”

“Are you sure?”

“I had my page count them up for me.”

“Didn’t do it yourself?”

“Counting leads to math which leads to science. I don’t want to go down that corridor it’s absolutely frightening what you could find out. Reality sucks, I prefer ‘Who’s got the Chicken’ myself.”

With that, the representative from Fluoridated raised himself up and didn’t even shake the Speaker’s hand.

All the Speaker could think was: Where was that stake?

It was at this point that the thin men returned with a scowling face.

“What is it now?” Again, the speaker always started the conversation.

“I have some bad news; the Democrats may not vote for you.”

“So be it, I stood up for my country to collect a significant bribe. That is the contemporary way to run my position. It isn’t as if I doffed boys or anything.”

“You sure you want to go out this way?”

“In one year, I will be shilling for the killing with a snap job for the fracjob. I won’t power but I’ll be as oink on point. I rode this Phallic symbol for a reason.” Cor-rup-tion. It is sliding to a play.

The thin man gave a fat boy stare.

The Speaker continued: “And if that's not enough I will knife Peloise in the front, and make leave the Dome with her face held high, and her butt held low.”

But just the head waiter came out with a trey.

“What took you so long? And this stake is well done.”

But rather the scurry for the mouse hole, the head waiter stood higher. It was clear that midnight was the waiter's beat.

“You may order it ask you want. But the stake will arrive as a cook sees fit.”

“Don’t you know who I am?” And he stopped in neo-noire posse.

“Yes, and I know who you will be tomorrow.” And then the waiter slabbed the soon-to-ex-Speaker with the stake.