“Dutch Oven, Mr. President”

Bill Clinton walked down the stairs into the basement, the last strains of Kenny G coming from his saxophone. “You like Kenny G, Moose?” he asked.

“He sucks” I answered.

Bill put down the saxophone. “You know, Moose, some people like sucking” he said.

So that’s how it’s gonna be, I thought. Clinton began to take off his clothes.

“I thought we were friends” I said. “You don’t have to do this.”

By this time he was naked. “Yes, I do” he said. “I can’t pass anything up.”

“I understand” I said. What I understood was how lucky I was to have unlocked my restraints. He came towards me and I reached up with my right hand, the undamaged hand. I grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head down to my ass. I whipped a sheet over his head and farted for all I was worth.

“Dutch Oven, Mr. President” I said. It was pretty funny and I had to laugh. I’m sure Bill would have laughed too if he hadn’t been gagging.

I kept laughing and farting for the longest time, maybe five minutes. Upstairs, the Secret Service men took notice. “Sounds like one hell of a party” said one. “Wish I could join in” said another.

When I ran out of gas I stood up. President Clinton was still gagging as I got dressed in his clothes. “Dutch Oven, Mr. President” I repeated. He gave me the strangest look, like a dog who was being euthanized. Yeah, you know the look.

I walked up the stairs, straight into the nest of SS men. Needless to say, I went on a bitch-slapping rampage. I even slapped a few left-handed, broken thumb and all. It hurt but it was a good hurt, like taking a dump after six days of constipation.

The old SS man with the spike helmet walked into the room. Our eyes locked. His face grew red and he charged, head down.

“Toro!” I yelled and sidestepped. He buried his spike in the wall and I slapped him on the helmet. He just stuck there with his helmet caved in and went into convulsions, his feet doing some kind of Nazi tap dance.

I spied a board with car keys hung on nails. I ripped the board from the wall and walked out the door into sunshine.

There were a number of cars, mostly big SUVs like Suburbans and Ford Expeditions. I spotted a lone Cadillac Escalade - just my style. I found the proper key and tried it – it started right up. I drove down the driveway to freedom.

I had an appointment with destiny. I was back on the campaign trail.