Loot and Save
At the tiny mom and pop store, Loot and Save, all is calm. The same thing could not be said about its neighbors, Kohl’s and DC Wieners. In any other town in America, the little convenience store would have been relieved of its supplies in a similar situation. The store’s food, water and toilet paper remains untouched. The same can be said a block away at the capital’s newest supermarket superstore, Piggly Wiggly. Kohl’s however, is almost wiped clean of its merchandise and DC Wieners is out of everything but hot dogs; the worst items on their menu. The restaurant’s owner, Carlos Danger, is busy trying to give his wiener to looters passing by, possibly on their way to Kohl’s.
In the back of Kohls, near the toilets, Rose and her best friend Katie are stuffing various articles of clothing and shoes into duffel bags, which Katie keeps in her trunk for moments such as these.
“I think I’ve reached the limit,” Rose says with a grunt, as she tries to stuff all the items down in the bag.
“Sorry I only had seven duffels.”
“It’s okay, Katie; there’s always next time. Let’s get this crap to the car and see if Starbucks is still standing; I’m about to die for a pumpkin spice latte.”
“OMG,” Katie spells out. “That sounds so fetch!”
Just next door at the Loot and Save, the Secret Service is charged with keeping the first husband safe and sound.
“Sir, we can make it over to that Starbucks, but we need to go now.” says Darryl number two.
“Very well, come on everyone. We are one store closer to the White House and maybe we can snag some Oprah Chai lattes to boot!”
The group gathers closer together and prepares to dart to the coffee house. Finally, an opening in the crowd is revealed and they make a break for it.
“Wait!” Tad yells out; stopping everyone mid-stride. The group stumbles, trying to stop themselves and each member in the group falls over like a bowling pin. Kitty picks her head up, looking around to see what the fuss was about.
“What the hell, Tad?”
“I gotta pee.”
“Are you shitting me, hey?” Lorenzo asks.
“Hold it,” Larry said.
“I can’t. I’ve been holding it,” Tad said.
“Christ on a cracker, Tad; great fucking timing,” Kitty says as she plants her face in her palm.
Geoff tells the group, “I’ll stay with him; you guys go on ahead and we’ll catch up.”
“Great, now I gotta go too,” Tom the waiter adds.
“Okay,” says Kitty, “Who’s staying behind to pee?
Tad, Geoff, and Tom the waiter raise their hands. Lorenzo puts down another sandwich he found somewhere during the discussion, and slowly raises his hand like he was in trouble.
Kitty rolls her eyes. “We’ll be waiting; hurry up.”
Kitty turns and joins Mick, Larry, Darryl and Darryl. “Let’s go for it.”
The group waits for Larry to give the hand signal and they jet into the street. As the group begins to run, Kitty looks back over her shoulder just long enough to give Tad a hand signal of her own.
The boys are gathered at the urinal and Lorenzo turns slightly to glance at Tad’s shoulder.
“Tell me what this is all about hey.”
“You mean my shoulder tattoo? Every time I date someone, I get her name added to the list.”
“Why is there a line tattooed through all of them hey?”
His brother Geoff answers him behind the privacy of the toilet’s wall divider. “He does that when they break up.”
“That’s weird and I thought your head tattoo was crazy,” Tom the waiter said as he relieves himself in the sink.
“I like it hey.”
“It’s low maintenance,” Tad says, as he runs his free hand over the tattoo of fake hair he got to replace what he shaved away.
Kitty and her splintered group are at the Starbucks searching for enough ingredients to create an Oprah Chai Latte for the first gentleman, who is in the restroom. He is looking at himself in the mirror, apparently rehearsing a famous Buffalo Bill scene from Silence of the Lambs.
The Secret Service Agents are at the front of the store, telling a beautiful redheaded girl and her friend, who have obviously just come from a Charlton Heston convention, to scram.
“Sorry ladies, this is our Starbucks; maybe you’ll have better luck with one of the three others a block over,” Larry said.
“Whatever, dude,” the cute redhead said as she waves him away.
“Let’s go, Rose. If they want to be assholes about it, let them have their shitty Starbucks,” her butch friend said angrily.
Larry stops them. “Wait, you’re right; I am being an asshole. You can stay.”
“Really?” the cute one asks.
“Nope.” Larry says with a smile, as he closes the door slower than anyone has ever done it before.
“Damn playa! That was the shit; I wish we could see that again in slow motion. The look on their faces was priceless,” Daryl number two said.
Kitty walks over to them holding the first gentleman’s Oprah Chai Latte. “What do we do now? We can’t stay here all day?”
“I’ve tried to reach the Whitehouse, but I can’t seem to reach anyone. Has the president tried to contact the first husband?” Larry asked.
The first husband walks out of the bathroom zipping his pants. He takes the cup out of Kitty’s hand and examines it. She wrote on the side with a sharpie, First Gentleman.
“Has the president tried to contact you sir?” Larry asked.
The first husband takes his cell phone out and realizes it’s been turned off the whole time. He had turned it off for his interview, so he wouldn’t be interrupted and forgot to turn it back on. He powers it on and sees that he has 10 miscalls and there are four texts from Evan.
“Shit, I had my phone off.” He scrolls through the texts.
Text 1: You need to stop whatever you are doing right now and get back to the Whitehouse.
Text 2: I’ve been trying to call you. Do you have your phone turned off?
Text 3: Did you watch me on the news? Did I look sweaty to you? There is a clusterfuckus that could be headed toward Earth. I’m starting to get reports of looting and unrest throughout D.C and other cities. If you can’t get back to the Whitehouse, have the Secret Service take you some place safe and it better not be Starbucks.
Text 4: I love you pumpkin!
Kitty was reading them over his shoulder. “He called you pumpkin; that’s so sweet.”
There is a pounding on the door. Larry sees the other members of the group with their faces pressed against the glass. He unlocks the door to let them in and closes quickly behind them.
“It’s getting worse out there; it’s total chaos. We have to leave immediately,” Tad said.
Mick pulls a Glock 19 out of his jacket.
“Where did you get that? Do you know how to use it?” Daryl number one asked.
“It’s mine and of course; I’m a trained action film star.”
The Secret Service Agents look at each other unsure.
“This is just like a scene from Sex and the City and Death II. I was trapped in a Starbucks and riots were going on outside.”
“What do we need to do then?” Kitty asked.
“We all need to dress up as nuns,” Mick said.
“Sir, with all due respect, how are we going to do that? We don’t have any habits with us,” Larry said.
“I don’t like your pessimism Larry, but perhaps you’re right. We still need some kind of diversion. Why don’t you or Daryl number one lay down some cover fire and give the rest of us a chance to escape.”
“I can’t just fire a gun at innocent civilians,” Larry said.
“Larry, this is D.C.; you can shoot someone in the face as long as you say it was an accident.”
Larry took out his gold plated pistol, which was clearly not an authorized weapon. “Alright, lets move.”
President Evan Bacon was in the situation room, along with Vice President, Honey Ryder, Hank, his Chief of Staff, a.k.a Eggs, Director of Homeland Security, Stanley Johnson, General Usrodd, Secretary of State, Cecilia Hammerstein, a.k.a the Hammer, Secretary of Defense, Victor Kankoff, C.I.A Director, Ted Striker, Director of the NSA, Strom Armstrong and the new Director of FEMA, Hook Jericho. The president fired Mike Brown earlier. They were all dressed in suits and with the exception of Cecilia, they looked like agents from, The Matrix.
“I need an update on this clusterfuckus; Americans are frightened and want to know what’s happening,” the President said.
“Sir, scientists honestly don’t know what to call it anymore. They were voting on doohickey or thingamajobber,” NSA director Strom Armstrong said.
“I’m sick of these place holder names. I want to know what the hell, it is.”
“There is some more bad news sir; the scientists say that it his definitely headed towards earth,” Director of Homeland Security, Stanley Johnson said.
“Do we know how big it is?”
“It’s about six inches…oh, you mean the matter headed toward Earth. They are about the size of small insignificant states, that don’t count for shit in a general election,” C.I.A Ted Striker said.
“How many are there?”
“Scientists say at least seven,” Strom said.
“This is not good. Are the clusterfuckus or whatever in range of our missiles?”
“Not yet, but we will have them at the ready as soon as they are. We really need to get you to NORAD; the DEFCON has dropped to 4,” Secretary of State Cecilia Hammerstein said.
“I can’t leave without my husband and I haven’t heard from him yet.” His phone starts to vibrate and he takes it out of his pocket and looks at it. There is a text from Mick.
On my way honey-butt.
“He says he’s on his way, but he doesn’t say where he is. I need Press Secretary Helen Yardley to write a speech, so I can give the public an update.”
“Sir, I would advise against that until we have more definitive evidence. It may cause more unnecessary panic,” Stanley said.
“He’s right; DC Wieners has been completely looted,” Strom said.
“DC Wieners? You mean they looted Congress?”
“It’s a new eatery; very popular. It is beside Loot and Save; the poor man’s Walmart,” Helen said.
“Should I have them ready Air Force One?” Ted asked.
“No, I want to wait a little longer for my husband. He’s not just your average gay guy with a pink ascot; he’s a bad ass action film star.”