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In my original conception of the play, there were three acts. The first and third acts were
the trial. The second act took place in New Jersey. I have split that
second act into three scenes which are now parts of Act I. The New Jersey scenes in
Act II were written later. Act II, Scene 1 (A
living room. There needs to be a television and at least one chair or sofa. On
the wall there needs to be the Presidential seal. This object will be
surreptitiously switched (and if noted obviously switched) with a print of
poker dogs, seemingly by supernatural devices. The changes are timed to
Taylor's entrances and exits; when Taylor is on stage it is poker dogs; when
she is off stage it is Presidential Seal. You can substitute other objects, but
will have to write your own jokes.) [Enter
Bush. He is wearing a shirt with the letters "WWDCD" on it. He turns
on the TV and sits down. The audience can hear the sound of a television show.] [Enter
Mrs. Bush] Mrs.
Bush: What's the matter, honey. Couldn't
sleep? Bush: (grunts) Mrs.
Bush: This is the third night in a row
you've been up. Is there something going on at work that's causing you abnormal
stress? Bush: No. Mrs.
Bush: What is it then? It is not good for
you to miss this much sleep. Bush: I'm having those dreams
again. Mrs.
Bush: The same one? Bush: Not exactly. Mrs.
Bush: What is it this time? Are you
dreaming that you are riding in a navy jet about to land on an aircraft carrier
and the pilot collapses and you have to land the plane yourself? Bush: (grunts) Mrs.
Bush: You always look so pale when you
wake up from that one. Bush: I'm in a courtroom.
There's a trial. Mrs.
Bush: Trial? What kind of trial? Bush: A criminal trial. Mrs.
Bush: Really? Bush: I'm the defendant. Mrs.
Bush: And what crimes does your
subconscious imagine you have committed? Bush: I don't know. They
haven't told me yet. Mrs.
Bush: Who hasn't told you yet? Bush: The people running the
trial. The judge and prosecutors. Mrs.
Bush: I see. Why don't you tell me about
it? Bush: Oh, honey, I don't want
to bother you with this. It's just a dream. Mrs.
Bush: It is good for you to talk about
what bothers you. It helps to define your problem and move towards resolution.
It is the first step in the healing process. Bush: Where did you that
mumbo jumbo from? Mrs.
Bush: It's not mumbo jumbo. It's Dr. Phil.
Tell me about your dream. Bush: I am in this courtroom.
And there are these strange women prosecuting me. Mrs.
Bush: Strange women? Bush: Creepy. Kind of like
Hillary Clinton clones. Mrs.
Bush: George. Bush: Everyone keep talking
about war. The Trojan War. The Iraqi War. September 11th. Mrs.
Bush: Are you dreaming about the planes
flying into the towers again? Bush: No. It's not that. It's
people. I keep seeing and hearing the people who were killed on September 11th.
Especially this one woman. She's been in the dreams more than once. Mrs.
Bush: Does she look like anyone we know? Bush: No. No. She doesn't
look like anybody we know. The
other strange thing is that there are all these characters out of history.
Roman soldiers, Greek kings. All kinds of people. Louis the Fourteenth is my
lawyer. And there is all this talk about war and it has something to do with
me. Mrs.
Bush: Obviously all this business in the
Middle East is preying on your mind.. Bush: Yeah. I imagine that's
all it is. Anyway, I woke up from the dream and I can't get back to sleep. So I
came down here to watch some TV. You should go back to bed. I'll be fine. I'll
find an episode of Friends or something. Mrs.
Bush: I worry about you, George. Bush: I know, honey. You
worry about everybody. You worry that I am not getting enough sleep. You worry
that the girls are going to discover sex. You worry that Dick Cheney will have
another heart attack. Mrs.
Bush: Actually I worry about Lynn. Dick's
health worries her so. Bush: That's great. He's the
one who could keel over tomorrow and you worry about her. You women stick
together like chewing gum on movie seats. Mrs.
Bush: Men don't stick together? Bush: Nah, we're too
competitive. We like to stick it to each other. Mrs.
Bush: So you and Dick are stabbing each
other in the back every time you work late. Bush: Naw. We're sticking it
to Colin Powell. Mrs.
Bush: I think I will get something from
the kitchen. Bush: You want to bring me a
bag of pretzels? Mrs.
Bush: No, George. We have had a talk about
you eating pretzels in front of the T.V. Bush: Okay. Mrs.
Bush: What would Jesus do? Bush: What? Mrs.
Bush: Your shirt. What do the letters
stand for? At first I thought it was "What would Jesus do," but that
isn't right. WWDCD? Bush: What Would Dick Cheney
Do? Mrs.
Bush: Oh. [Exit
Mrs. Bush] Bush: It's supposed to be a
joke. [Bush
watches TV for a while.) [Enter
Taylor.] Taylor: It's your fault. Bush: What? What are you
doing here? Taylor: It's all your fault, isn't it? Bush: What's my fault? What
are you talking about? Taylor: The reason the plane flew into the
World Trade Center. It's all your fault. Bush: It's not my fault.
(looks around) You shouldn't be here. Taylor: Why not? Bush: How did you get pass
security? Taylor: There is no security. Bush: They are standing just
outside that door. How did you get past them? Taylor: There is no one outside that door.
No one that matters anyway. It's just you and me. Bush: Wait a minute. You're
that girl. The one I keep seeing. Taylor: I haunt your every thought? Bush: You are in the dream.
You are not real. Taylor: What is real, George? Bush: This isn't happening. Taylor: Is it real that I am dead and you
are still alive? Is it real that my two year old daughter doesn't have anyone
to take care of her anymore? Bush: (calls to Mrs. Bush)
Laura! Taylor: Yes, George. Bush: Go away! Taylor: Sorry, George. I don't obey you as
well as I used to. Bush: (yells) Help Me! [Enter
Eris and Louis. They are dressed in what you would expect Secret Service agents
to wear, and have guns drawn. Taylor exits.] Louis: Stay down, sir. (Forces
George to the floor.) Eris: I'll check the other
rooms. [Enter
Mrs. Bush] Mrs.
Bush: Turn the TV down, George. (Sees Eris
with gun drawn, drops whatever she has in her hands) Eris: I'm sorry, mam. Please
get down on the floor. (Forces Mrs. Bush down.) Louis: (talks into a radio)
Immediate assistance required, private quarters. Bush: No. No. It's okay. Louis: Excuse me, sir. We can handle
this. Bush: No. No. I mean, there
is no emergency. Louis: You called for help, sir. Bush: Yes, I know. It's just,
there was something disturbing on the television and... Mrs.
Bush: For God's sake, George, you weren't
watching The Red Shoe Diaries again, were you? Bush: No. It was the O'Reilly
Factor. They had that fat filmmaker on. The one that drives me nuts. Mrs.
Bush: Michael Moore? Bush: Yeah. That fool. [All
stand up.] Louis: (into the radio) Cancel the
emergency. Another false alarm. (radio crackles) Yeah, I know. Eris: It looks like the T.V.
is on the local news. Bush: Well, I, uh, I changed
the channel I was so upset by what he said. I'm sorry. Louis: One of us is still required
to check the rooms. Eris: I'll do it. [Louis
and Eris exit on opposite sides) Mrs.
Bush: You shouldn't watch those shows.
They make you upset. Bush: Yes, dear. Mrs.
Bush: You said you don't need to watch
them. You said they just confuse you. Bush: I know, dear. Mrs.
Bush: You said too many facts cloud the
issue. Bush: It's alright. Mrs.
Bush: You said... Bush: I know! I know. I know
what I said. Mrs.
Bush: Yes, dear. You need to have firm
convictions and stay the course, no matter what other people think. Lead from
the gut. That's what you said. Bush: Yes, dear. I think I'll
just turn on the Disney Channel. Mrs.
Bush: That's nice, dear. [Enter
Eris.] Eris: Everything looks clear.
Louis and I will be just outside the door. Bush: How long have you been
on this detail? Eris: I have been assigned to
White House security for the past seventeen months, sir. Bush: And your partner? How
long has he been here? Eris: He's new. Just the last
three days. But he is very good. sir. Quite a lot of experience in the field. Bush: He looks very familiar. Eris: He has one of those
faces. Mrs.
Bush: He looks something like that military
aide you had the first year. You know, the one with the football. Bush: He played sports? Mrs.
Bush: The one who carried the nuclear
codes. Bush: Ah, yes. That must be
it. Sorry to make such a disturbance. Eris: Oh, don't apologize,
Mr. President. Just part of the job. [Exit
Eris.] Bush: Watching the President
go batso. Just part of the job. Mrs.
Bush: What was that, George? Bush: Nothing. I'll be fine.
I'll watch some T.V. for a while and then come to bed. You go on. Mrs.
Bush: I'll just clean this up first. (She
picks up what she dropped earlier.) [Exit
Mrs. Bush.] [Bush
watches TV for a while.) [Enter
Taylor] Taylor: You can't get rid of me that easily
any more. Bush: You are not here. You
are just part of a dream I have been having. You don't exist. Taylor: Really? Well, if I didn't exist,
could I do this? (She turns off the TV) Bush: The T.V. is still on. I
am just dreaming that it's off. Taylor: Oh, so you're dreaming? Well, dream
about this. (She knocks something onto the floor.) Bush: This is not happening. Taylor: And maybe this isn't happening.
(She pokes Bush.) Bush: This is all just a bad
dream! Taylor: This isn't just a bad dream,
George. It's downright naughty! (She puts her hands on him and...) Bush: Stop that! Taylor: Oh, George. You use to think that
was so much fun. Bush: Stay away from me! Taylor: Come on, George. How about a little
screw just for old time's sake? Bush: You shouldn't be here.
If someone sees you... Taylor: Then what? Your wife will find out? Bush: She's in the other room.
If she comes in here... Taylor: She will see you and me together.
What a shock! I wonder what will happen? Bush: What are you talking
about? Who are you? Taylor: Don't you remember me, George? Have
you found yourself another little squeeze on the side and forgotten all about
your dear, precious, little Laura already? Bush: Laura? Laura's my wife. Taylor: (laughs) No, George. I'm Laura.
Your wife's name is Carol. Who do you think you are, the President of the
United States? Bush: I am the President. Taylor: No, you're not. You're a bond
salesman who happens to have the same name as the President. Bush: (goes to the door)
Security! Taylor: There's no one there, George. I
told you that. Where do you think you are, the White House? Bush: This is the White House.
How do you explain that! (points to the painting on the wall) Taylor: That's a print of poker dogs that
one of your fraternity brothers gave you when you were in college. He was
afraid to take it home because his mother would disapprove. You think it adds a
certain something to the room. Bush: That was the
Presidential Seal. (touches it) Taylor: Sure, George. Have you become
unglued? Bush: I knew you before. Taylor: Of course, you knew me, George. He
had an affair. It lasted six years. We had a daughter. A daughter I haven't
seen since the plane crashed into the World Trade Center. A daughter you
haven't seen since either. Bush: You can't be here. Taylor: Why, because Carol might see us? Bush: Yes. You'll ruin
everything. Taylor: Can't have that, can we? Bush: You have to leave. Taylor: I'm staying here. Let's go wake up
Carol and tell her everything. Bush: No. Look. I'll tell
her. I promise. Real soon. Taylor: You said you already had. Bush: Well, that didn't work
out. Things got complicated. Taylor: Things got complicated for me, too,
George. Bush: I know, honey. But,
this isn't the time. You better leave. Okay? Taylor: Not just yet. There some things I
want to get straight first. Bush: Can't we do this later? Taylor: I don't think so. I need a few
answers. Bush: What do you want? Taylor: I want to know why you haven't paid
the health insurance for our daughter. Bush: Things are really tight
now, baby. Taylor: And why you haven't gone to see
her. Bush: There hasn't been time. Taylor: And why you haven't told the child
welfare people that you are her father. Bush: I'm going to get to
that. Taylor: You aren't ever going to get to
that, are you? Bush: Of course, I am. Taylor: No, you aren't. You are going to
toss her aside just like you did me. Bush: No, I'm not. Taylor: Your promises are not worth
anything, George. You lied to me. You lied to your wife. You even lied to
yourself. Bush: That's not fair. Taylor: Nothing's fair, George. Nothing at
all. Life hasn't been particularly fair to me, now has it? Bush: Listen. Give me a
chance. Taylor: You told me you loved me. That you
wanted to make a life with me. That you were going to leave your wife. Bush: Yes. Yes. Sure I did.
But these things aren't as easy as they seem sometimes. You have to work them
out. I need time. Taylor: You had all the time in the world,
George. But you weren't ever going to leave your wife, were you? Bush: Honey, when the time is
right, I promise. Taylor: You made a lot of promises, George.
But the time for promises is done. Bush: What are you talking
about? Taylor: Do you love me? Bush: Of course, I do. Taylor: Do you really mean that? You've
said that so many times, to so many people. Do you even have a concept of what
that means? To love someone? Bush: Of course, I do. Taylor: So, you love me? Bush: Yes. Taylor: And our daughter? Bush: Yes. Taylor: Then prove it. Bush: How? Taylor: Let's go get her right now. Bush: I can't leave right
now. Taylor: If you love us you'll leave right
now and get our daughter and bring her back here. Bush: What? Taylor: Back here. Where you'll make a home
for her. For your daughter. You will acknowledge her and bring her here. Home. Bush: I can't do that right
now. Taylor: If you love me. Bush: Of course, I do. Taylor: You'll bring her here now. Bush: I can't! Taylor: Then I'm sorry for you, George. I'm
sorry for what is going to happen to you. Bush: What do you mean? Taylor: I knew you would be like this. I
knew you would be a spineless bastard and abandon your daughter. Bush: What are you talking
about? Taylor: I sold something so you could pay
your debts. Bush: Listen. I'll make it up
to you. Really I will. It's just that if Laura sees you... Taylor: George, your wife's name is not
Laura. It's Carol. I'm Laura. Remember? Bush: I don't remember.
Carol. Laura. You went away. You've been gone two years. Taylor: Longer than that. Bush: So why have you come
back now? What have I done to bring you back? Taylor: It isn't what you've done, it's
what you haven't done. Bush: Your daughter. Taylor: Our daughter. Bush: Our daughter. She doing
just fine with those people. They are raising her up just fine. I don't even
think they want me in her life. Taylor: She needs her daddy, George. Bush: Listen, I'd be shit at
trying to take care of her. I have so much going on and no time... Taylor: You're making excuses. Bush: I am just trying to do
what's right. Taylor: I can't come by and see you
tonight. I have an appointment with my insurance agent. Bush: She's better off where
she is. Taylor: It's her mother's birthday and Carol
will be angry if I don't go. Bush: What can I do? Taylor: I just couldn't tell her last
night, honey. Her father went into the hospital. It'll be a little longer. Bush: You're not listening to
me. Taylor: After we close this big deal. Until
then I just couldn't handle dealing with Carol's hysterics. Bush: You are being unfair. Taylor: I know it's Michelle's birthday,
but the boss insists. Bush: Stop it. Taylor: I am going to be in late today,
baby. We'll talk after lunch, I swear. Bush: Stop it! Taylor: But you never came in that day, did
you, George? By the time you got there the building was gone. Wasn't it? The
building was gone and so was I. Bush: Stop it! Taylor: They flew an airplane into our
building and everybody in our department died. Everybody! Except you. Bush: Stop it. Taylor: Everybody's dead except for the
philandering boss who didn't want to face his mistress after blowing her off
the night before. Bush: (crying) Stop it. Taylor: Is that why I had to die, George?
Because you couldn't deal with our relationship. So you wouldn't have to
confront your wife with our daughter? Is that why the plane flew into our
building, George? Because you and I had an affair? Is that why I am dead? Bush: No. No. No. If I had
been there... Taylor: You had been there what? You'd be
dead, too? You wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath of your indiscretion if
you were dead, too. Is that what you are thinking? Bush: No. Taylor: Or maybe you think you could have
saved us. You could have saved me. Run up those stairs with a smoke jacket. Or
a parachute. We could have jumped off the top of the World Trade Center, in
each other's arms, and floated down 110 stories to the street, kissing and
laughing all the way, as we cheated death out of his prize. Is that what you are
thinking, George? Bush: I don't know what I'm
thinking. Taylor: That's always been one of your
problems. You don't think. Not with your brain, anyway. You
can't get rid of your guilt that easy. I won't let you. You think you've had a
tough three nights being on trial for war. Just wait until you go on trial for
being a liar! Bush: You're responsible for
my dreams? Taylor: I'm responsible for seeing that you
get what you deserve. [Enter
Mrs. Bush] Bush: Why are you doing this
to me? Can't you just leave me alone? Mrs.
Bush: George? Bush: Laura! Mrs.
Bush: Who? Bush: I mean, Carol. [Exit
Taylor.] Mrs.
Bush: Carol? Who's Carol? Bush: What? Nobody. Mrs.
Bush: That was that bitch's name, wasn't
it? Bush: No. I mean, yes. I
mean, I don't know. Mrs.
Bush: You're seeing her again? Bush: No! Mrs.
Bush: Yes, you are! Bush: No, I'm not. She's
dead! Mrs.
Bush: You're fucking a dead woman? Bush: No! She was killed in
the World Trade Center. It's just my dreams. She's the one causing my dreams. Mrs.
Bush: You're fucking a woman who was
killed in the World Trade Center? George, I can't even begin to tell you how
sick that sounds. Bush: No. No. I am not
fucking anyone. It's just these dreams. I'm getting confused. I keep seeing the
same woman over and over in my dreams. I fell asleep in front of the T.V. and I
dreamt she was here. Mrs.
Bush: She's here? Bush: No, she doesn't exist.
But I thought she did. It seemed so real. Even the seal on the wall was
different. It was a print of poker dogs. Mrs.
Bush: I thought you said you gave your
print of poker dogs to a frat brother in college. Bush: I did. Only. In the
dream I am him and not me. Mrs.
Bush: Did you call that therapist? Bush: No. Mrs.
Bush: Rush Limbaugh says he is very
discreet. Even Newt Gingrich recommended him. Bush: Boy, that's an
outstanding resume. Russian Nuke, the GOP crash and burn twins. Mrs.
Bush: He's very good. Bush: The poster children for
self immolation. Mrs.
Bush: George. Bush: Suicide bombers,
Republican style. Mrs.
Bush: George, I think maybe you need some
help. Bush: Laura, I think I need
some sleep without all these weird dreams. Mrs.
Bush: There should be a pill for that. Bush: There probably is. Mrs.
Bush: I'll call the Surgeon General. Bush: You don't want to wake
him up. Mrs.
Bush: You're right. I'll have one of the
Secret Service agents do that. (goes to the door) [Enter
Louis] Louis: Is everything all right? Mrs.
Bush: The President is having trouble
sleeping. I think he might need a sleeping pill. Louis: I will call and have one sent
up right away. [Exit
Louis] (pause) Mrs.
Bush: Do you want me to make you some
Sleepy Time tea? Bush: No. (pause) Mrs.
Bush: Maybe I can read you your favorite
story again, Little Ronnie Reagan Smites the Evil Russian Trolls. Bush: No. (pause) Mrs.
Bush: Why don't I... Bush: Laura! I just need to
get this dream off my mind. Mrs.
Bush: What I don't understand is, what do
you mean she was here? Bush: That woman. She was
here. In this room. Mrs.
Bush: Standing here with you? Bush: Yes. Mrs.
Bush: And the Presidential Seal was poker
dogs? Bush: Yes, and the furniture
was different, and there was different carpet, and no Secret Service agents
outside the door. Mrs.
Bush: So what did she want? Bush: She wanted me to go get
her daughter. Mrs.
Bush: Her daughter? She has a child? [Enter
Taylor] Bush: Yes. Mrs.
Bush: Why should you go get her daughter? Bush: She wanted me to bring
her daughter back here. Mrs.
Bush: For God's sake, why? Bush: Because she is being
brought up in a foster family situation, bouncing from home to home. It isn't
the best. A stable family would be better. And she claims the girl is my
daughter. Mrs.
Bush: You had a daughter with that woman? Bush: Of course, not. She's
not real. Mrs.
Bush: Laura Taylor is not real? Bush: Laura? Taylor: Yes, George. Mrs.
Bush: She sure as hell was real when she
was your assistant. And she sure as hell was real when you had that affair with
her. She sure as hell was real when we went to the lawyers and the marriage
counselors. And if the two of you had a child... Bush: No. No. No. There is no
child. Taylor: Liar. Bush: She is just a dream. Mrs.
Bush: You said she was being brought up in
a foster home. Bush: I know. Mrs.
Bush: That sure as hell sounds real to me. Taylor: You tell him, sister. Mrs.
Bush: What are you going to do about this,
George? Bush: I don't know. I can't
think. I don't even know who I am or where I am. Mrs.
Bush: You are going to have to take care
of this. This little problem isn't going away. It is going to grow up and
become a big problem. Bush: I suppose I could see
if I could find someone to adopt her. Mrs.
Bush: Well, you better hurry up before
someone remembers the rumors about your affair and asks for a paternity test. Taylor: Oh, for God's sakes. (taps Mrs.
Bush on the shoulder) Boo. Mrs.
Bush: (screams) What are you doing here? Taylor: Seeing after my worldly interests.
Say, big guy, want to do a little tumbling in the bedroom? Mrs.
Bush: George! Taylor: Let's me and you ditch the old
broad, put on some funk and do a little grinding to get into the mood. Mrs.
Bush: George, you said you were finished
with this and I believed you. How could you do this to me? [Exit
Taylor] Mrs.
Bush: Who is she this time? Another one of
your assistants? An intern? One of those slutty little whores in the diplomatic
corps who sleep around to advance national policy? If the Democrats ever get a
hold of this, it will be Clinton all over again. Only this time they will nail
your ass to the wall. How could you do this? [Enter
Eris] Mrs.
Bush: What do you want? Eris: I brought the
President's sleeping pill. Is there something wrong? Mrs.
Bush: You bet your ass there is. George is
fucking a dead woman. Eris: (shocked) Mr.
President! Bush: I am not fucking a dead
woman. It is just something in a dream. Mrs.
Bush: That woman wasn't a dream. She
tapped me on the shoulder. Eris: What woman? Mrs.
Bush: The woman he is having the affair
with. Eris: Oh, I'm sorry, mam. We
don't get involved in such things. We are just concerned with the President's
security. Mrs.
Bush: Well, you aren't doing a very good
job of it. She was just here. Eris: Here? In this room?
Where is she now? Mrs.
Bush: I don't know. She just disappeared.
Maybe she is in the bedroom grinding to some funk. Bush: There is no one here.
It was just a dream. Mrs.
Bush: Yes, she was here. I saw her. Eris: Do you see her as well,
Mr. President? Bush: Well, yes. (Eris
draws her gun) Bush: But she isn't real. She
is just part of a dream I am having. Eris: But Mrs. Bush said she
saw the woman, too. Bush: Yes, but what she saw was
part of my dream. Mrs.
Bush: She is going to think we are crazy. Eris: No, mam. We are just
concerned with security. Are you both having the same dream? Bush: I guess that would
be... Yes. We are both having the same dream. Eris: Just to safe, I better check
the residence again. Bush: Go ahead. Eris: Here's your pill. Bush: Thanks. [Exit
Eris] (Bush
takes the pill.) Mrs.
Bush: You met her during the campaign,
didn't you? Bush: She's just a dream. She
is not real. Mrs.
Bush: Then what the hell tapped me on the
shoulder? Bush: Some kind of
suggestion. I was... I don't know. [Enter
Eris. Gun put away.] Eris: There's nothing in the
bedroom. Mrs.
Bush: And there isn't going to be anything
either. Bush: Laura. Mrs.
Bush: As long as your dreams keep showing
up. Bush: I give up. Eris: Don't give up, sir. I
sure things will be much better after a good night's sleep. Bush: Is that the official
position of the Secret Service? Things will be much better after a good night's
sleep. Mrs.
Bush: That would depend on who you sleep
with. Bush: I haven't been able to
sleep for the last three days because of insane dreams which now seem to be
affecting me and Laura when I am awake. Eris: I think maybe there is
something untoward going on. (She pulls a tarot deck out of her pocket and
begins to shuffle the cards.) Mrs.
Bush: So your response to all this is to
play a game of cards? Eris: Tarot cards. Mrs.
Bush: Tarot cards? What are you, some kind
of gypsy fortuneteller? I thought you were with the Secret Service. Eris: I am with the Secret
Service. I am responsible for your and the President's safety. From physical
attack. And from supernatural forces as well. Bush: Supernatural forces? I
think maybe we getting a little carried away here. Eris: You are both having the
same dream. You are seeing people who don't exist. They are physically
manifesting themselves in your presence, even touching you. I would say you are
under attack and that, Mr. President, makes this my business. Mrs.
Bush: Under attack? Are you saying the
President is being attacked by... ah... magic spells? Eris: It happens more often
than you might expect. Franklin Delano Roosevelt was crippled and nearly killed
by the occult forces operating out of Nazi Germany. Bush: FDR had polio. He
wasn't crippled by some magic spell. Eris: Yes. That's the cover
story. We are very good at covering this kind of thing up. Will you cut the
cards please, Mr. President? Mrs.
Bush: You routinely use magic to protect
the President? Eris: For over two hundred
years. Bush: I don't see what
possible good this could do. Eris: This helps me get in
touch with the forces that surround us, the forces that are focused on you.
Gives me direction. Helps me to see what kind of attack it is. Please, Mr.
President, the cards. Bush: This is crazy. Eris: It could be that I am a
loon, Mr. President, but what harm could there be to just cut the cards. Bush: If you are a loon, you
are a loon with a gun. Eris: If I am a loon with a
gun, I have been one for seventeen months. Please, Mr. President. Just cut the
cards. Bush: (takes the cards, cuts
them, hands them back) Eris: Thank you, sir. Now,
Mrs. Bush, if you would please. Mrs.
Bush: (takes the cards, cuts them, hands
them back.) Eris: Thank you. (Sits down
by table. Mrs. Bush moves in close. Bush moves away.) Mrs.
Bush: Did they teach you this when you
joined the Secret Service? Eris: Oh, no. I was recruited
in part because of my skill with the cards. Mrs.
Bush: You have some gypsy blood? Eris: No, mam. Not that I am
aware of. I am a witch. Mrs.
Bush: A witch? Are there a lot of witches
in the Secret Service? Eris: Oh, yes, mam. A few of
us work security detail. Most are concerned with currency. Mrs.
Bush: Money? Eris: Very important.
Everyone carries money. It is in every building, every home, every vehicle and
conveyance. People take it everywhere - meetings, liaisons, trysts, everywhere
they go. It gives us an entry into everything. We use it to tap into the energy
that flows through us. If there is enough currency in close proximity to
something we are searching for, we can usually find it. [Enter
Taylor. She sneaks up on Bush. Eris and Mrs. Bush are unaware of her.] Mrs.
Bush: How do you do that? Eris: The currency has been
imprinted with special occult symbols - the pyramid and all-seeing eye. That's why
the Secret Service has always been part of the Treasury Department and in
charge of the money supply. Mrs.
Bush: If you could do all that, why don't
you use your powers to arrest all the drug dealers or something? Eris: I am sorry, mam, we are
just concerned with security. The rest is not our job. (Starts to slowly take
cards and lay them on the table.) Taylor: Wanna fuck? Bush: You stay away from me! Taylor: Sorry, George. Not part of my plan. |