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The Morning After
Ann won’t quit crying. She wanted it so bad. She even ordered one of those carriages. You know the kind that the Queen rides in. She wanted to wave to the crowds as the Inaugural procession moved up Pennsylvania Ave.
Got the bill for the white horses this morning. OMG! She’s mad at me.
She and her maids and butlers left for the other end of the mansion this morning. I found her note on the bed when I woke up. “I need some distance.” Should follow her there. Apologize. If I start out early tomorrow morning. Should arrive at the other end of the house by tomorrow night.
That skinny bastard kicked my ass into next week. Who ever said that I’d get 303 electoral votes must have been smoking something. That fucking Rove. I’d like to take that motherfucker, stretch him out on a platter and stick an apple into his fucking mouth.
That Newt. A scurvy check-bouncing son of a bitch with that manikin wife of his. Probably having a good laugh at my expense.
Last night I dreamed about my Dad. He didn’t say anything. Just kept shaking his head. They called my opponent the magic Negro. Must be something to it. We try to have our convention a storm delays it. Just as I’m getting some momentum. A hurricane. Even the weather is on his side. Why did I listen to them. Suggested that I insert that line,”President Obama promised to slow the rise of the Oceans.”Got a big laugh at the convention. Who’s laughing now?
Like Ann and I were walking along the beach here in La Jolla. There was a sign. It read, “Never Turn Your Back On The Ocean.” Maybe there’s something to it.
reprinted with permission of the author, 2012