Butt Mist

The first husband and party were out on the D.C. streets and like the movie, The Warriors, who were determined to make it back to Coney Island, they were equally determined to make it to the White House. Mick Cage-Bacon had his Glock drawn, along with the Secret Service Agents, ready to pop a cap in a looters ass if the need arose. Some of the buildings across the street were burning, and they could see a man throwing a garbage can through an Eddie Bauer window.

“Why spend what could be your last hours on Earth, looting an Eddie Bauer? What a douche,” Tad said.

“I can’t afford Eddie Bauer,” Tom the waiter said with a sigh, but no one gave a shit.

“There’s no accounting for taste in the apocalypse I guess,” his brother Geoff said.

“Don’t say apocalypse; we don’t know that for sure,” Kitty said.

“If there are aliens, I doubt they wish us peace on Earth and good will towards men. They will probably want to annihilate us, or at the very least, probe our asses,” Tad said.

“That’s such a stereotype; I’m sure not all aliens want to probe human asses, except maybe Kim Kardashians.

“Ew,” said Mick, Larry, Darryl and Darryl, and Lorenzo contemporaneously.

“Has the president texted you with any updates? My phone battery is dead now. I don’t even know if my husband Yukon is okay,” Kitty said.

“The only thing he said was that he has to leave on Air Force One to get to NORAD. When we make it to the White House, we are to leave on Air Force Two to join him there. He will address the nation again once he arrives.”

“Look at those assholes,” Tom the waiter said, pointing to a group of people protesting.

“Why are they protesting, hey?” Lorenzo asked eating a sandwich, which had fallen out of the trashcan that the looter had thrown through the Eddie Bauer window.

It appeared as though the protesters wanted to make peace with the aliens, according to some of the signs.

 Safe haven for illegal aliens. War is not the answer. Welcome aliens. Aliens are people too. Make alien/human hybrids, not war.  Let’s probe each other!

“I think that last guy has the right idea,” Tad said, thinking of Rose and wondering where she might be.

“What a complete and utter waste–” Daryl number one was interrupted by a whizzing bullet, that hit the windshield of a nearby car and shattered it. Their group along with the protesters, hit the pavement. The Secret Service Agents shielded the First Husband, scanning to see where the bullet had come from.

“There’s a sniper on the roof. It looks like he is trying to take out the protesters,” Larry said

The next bullet fired out and hit one of the protesters in the leg and before the Secret Service Agents knew what was happening; Mick was on his feet with his gun aimed at the sniper. The First Husband fired and got the sniper right in the forehead. The sniper toppled over and hit the pavement with a splat, right in front of Kitty who screamed.

Tom the waiter yelled out, “Oh shit oh shit oh shit!”

“That was totally bad ass sir,” Darryl number two said.

“I had to learn how to fire and load a gun for Sex and the City and Death. I have been practicing at the gun range ever since.”

The protester, who got shot in the leg, got up and was carried away by two of her friends. The group pressed on down the street stopping in front of a convenient store.

“Let’s go in and see if they have any water or food,” Larry said.

Tad pushed on the door, and surprisingly it was unlocked. A bullet rang out and they heard someone shout, “get the fuck out of my store you hooligans.”

“Don’t shoot; we are Secret Service Agents and we have the First Husband here,” Larry said and held up his Secret Service ID.

“I don’t give a good god damn who you are. Get out of my store before I kill all of you.”

Larry was about to protest further, but Mick said, “let’s just keep going, I want to get to the White House as soon as possible.

The Secret Service Agents took the lead and peered around the corner, to make sure the coast was clear. The sun went down and Geoff checked his phone.

“That’s weird the sun is down and it’s only 3 o’clock.”

Everyone looked up, and hovering in the sky were probably thousands of spaceships; it was impossible to tell how many or how far away they were.

“Oh my God,” Kitty said.

Geoff tapped his brother Tad on the shoulder. “I just thought of the funniest tweet.”

***

Yukon and Melvin were headed toward the White House in Melvin’s jeep. The top was down and he was blasting Black Flag.

“Ah shit,” Melvin said.

“What’s the matter?” Yukon asked.

“I’m out of the maraschino cherries that I stole from the airport.”

“Is that all? Melvin, you amaze me; it might be the end of the world and you’re worried about snacks.”

The sun went down suddenly and when Yukon looked up, he was so startled that he swerved into the next lane. Their jeep crashed head on with a Smart Car.

“Sir… Sir… Are you okay?” A jolly round lady asks Yukon, shaking his shoulder to wake him.

“Wha… What happened?”

“I think we were all looking up at those UFOs. We weren’t paying attention and we ran into each other.”

Yukon looked up and saw the jeep folded up like an accordion.

“Melvin!” Yukon cried out.

“Oh, your friend is fine;” she said pointing to the other side of the street, where Melvin was sitting on the curb with a red-headed woman.

“We thought he was bleeding from the chest, but apparently it was just cherry juice. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m Yukon,” he held his hand out. “That’s Melvin.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, taking his massive hand. “I’m Katie. That’s Rose.”

“Sorry about your car.”

“Oh, it’s not our car; we stole it. Our car was carjacked by some asshole in a wheelchair.”

Yukon got up, with a little help from Katie, and walked over to join Rose and Melvin.

“Yuke, do you believe this shit?” Melvin asked. “What do we do now? Walk back to the apartment?”

Yukon pointed down the street, “The White House is closer. We can hoof it from here.”

“I’m not exactly, High School skinny anymore.”

“You never were, High School skinny,” Yukon said.

“Why are you guys going to the White House?” Rose asked.

“My wife is headed there.”

“Aw… that’s so sweet,” Katie says, as she fights back tears, because she will never know love.

Looking up, Yukon adds, “From the look of things, we’re running out of time.”

***

All morning, the sky was clear and bright and the Earth looked peaceful and calm, as if it was a typical day. Now, the atmosphere across the globe was littered with alien vessels. They were in every major city; except for Detroit.

The UFOs were hardly poetic; they were unpolished and a bit lackluster, like the child of a sphere and a pyramid, if the sphere and the pyramid were close relatives. Each one was rocky and unsmooth in appearance, like a barnacle ridden ship, with a belt of tiny orbs circling the hemisphere. They hovered slightly below cloud level, motionless, except for the orb belt spinning tirelessly.

Below, on the surface, the population varied in emotions. Most of the people were afraid, a few were excited, and some were too drunk by this time to care. Mainly, everyone was anxious. Who are they? What do they look like? Are they here to destroy us? Are they here to mate with us?

After for what seemed like an eternity, the orbs started breaking formation. They dropped slowly, but with purpose, like acorns from a tree. The UFOs didn’t slow as they approached the ground, but simply stopped a few meters above their city and there they waited. Once again, the sky was calm and scores of people below were staring intently upward now, waiting to see what would happen next. The orbs slowly started to drop straight down; almost as slow as feathers. Time seemed to stand still; crowds began forming circles around where they believed the orbs were landing. They were careful though not to get to close. The fear level was high, but this was monumental. Aliens are here on Earth; this is real. This is happening and in a matter of seconds, the orbs will open up to reveal something extraordinary.

The orbs descended, stopped eight feet from the ground, and came to a halt. They were easy to make out now; they were barely the size of a Smart Car. The orbs split in unison across their hemisphere, leaking bright light and smoke in all directions. A fart sound rang out, making everyone giggle. The laughter started dying out, beginning from the inner circle and moving outward away from the orb. The people closest to the orb turned around, then the next closest, and so on, until a half dozen rows were staring out at the onlookers.

“The smoke,” one onlooker yelled. “It’s a gas!”

Panic set in and everyone began to lose their shit. The people who were exposed to the gas started to run, but not away…they were running towards the people who had not been exposed to the gas. Their eyes were dull and they never blinked; their faces drooped, while their mouths remained open as they moved. Those that were affected began tackling people, scratching and gnawing on them. Every so often, one of the affected would fart and a tiny puff of smoke would roll out, which turned anyone nearby into predators as well. The light from the orbs began pulsing quickly, and then stopped. One final blast of blinding light flashed outwards, and as it subsided, the outline of a humanoid could be made out.

What the Clusterfuck?

President Evan Bacon was looking out the Oval Office window. He was waiting on Eggs, his Chief of Staff to arrive.

Turn around; every now and then I get a little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by. Turn around; every now and then I get a little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes. Turn around bright eyes. Every now and then I fall apart. Turn around bright eyes—

His singing was interrupted by a loud cough, and it was right as he was just about to reach his favorite part. He turned around to face a very embarrassed (but not bright-eyed) Eggs and a horrified Director of Homeland Security, Stanley Johnson, CIA Director, Ted Striker, Director of the NSA, Strom Armstrong and a tall lanky fellow in a white lab coat that he didn’t recognize.

Eggs stepped forward. “Sir, let me to introduce to you Dr. Fritz Rommel, the head scientist at NASA.”

The lanky man stepped forward to shake the President’s hand. “It’s an honor to meet you Mr. President.”

For a second, Evan thought he was going to give him a seig heil salute. “Same here Dr. Rommel.”

“Please, you can just call me Fritz or what the guys at the lab call me, Dr. Strangelove.”

The president just stood there in awkward silence, waiting for Eggs or someone to tell him what this Nazi nerd was doing in the Oval Office.

Eggs spoke up. “There has been a very important development with the clusterfuckus; I mean thingy. Dr. Rommel is here to tell you about his latest findings.”

“We think we know what the objects are that are now on a trajectory towards earth.”

About a minute went by and Fritz didn’t say anything. He looked slightly uncomfortable, as if he weren’t used to speaking in front of a group.

“Well, don’t be shy Dr. Rommel; let’s hear it.”

“It might sound highly absurd, so I will need you to keep an open mind.”

If he had any idea about the things I’ve done in the bed room, he wouldn’t have to ask me to keep an open mind, Evan thought.

“The objects we initially thought of as debris are in fact space ships.”

The President looked at the lanky man, waiting on the punch line to what was obviously a really bad joke. One look at the rest of the group’s faces, and he could tell it was not a joke.

“I know it seems incredible. I mean believe me; I’ve tested and retested my findings and have confirmed it with three of our other top scientists. The evidence is conclusive; they are indeed spaceships.”

“Are you sure they are not satellites that have gone astray or perhaps one of our rovers?”

“No, that was the first thing we considered, but we know the whereabouts of all of our satellites and none are missing. We don’t have any rovers out presently.”

“So, when you say spaceships, do you mean like the 1950’s spaceships that look like a flying saucepan, or the War of the Worlds spaceships?

Dr. Rommel looked a little confused. “Neither sir; they don’t appear to be made out of metal at all. We are not sure what they are made of, it’s some sort of element that doesn’t even appear on the periodic table.

“Awesome,” Evan said. “I haven’t so much as farted on Air Force One yet and now you’re telling me that we are about to be visited by space creatures?”

“Unfortunately,” Eggs said.

“So, it’s not random chance that they are in the Earth’s trajectory is it?”

“No sir,” said Dr Rommel. “I’m afraid not. We think they intentionally set out a course for Earth.”

“What the hell do they want?”

NSA Director, Ted Striker spoke up. “We don’t know sir; the scientists at NASA have tried numerous ways to contact them without success. It seems their systems of communication are way more advanced than ours.”

“You mean like the Japanese?”

“They are even more advanced than the Japanese,” Ted said.

“What do we do if their intentions aren’t friendly?” The President asked.

“We have all of our people reviewing science fiction movies from the past twenty five years. They are looking at everything from Independence Day to Prometheus. Hopefully one of those movies will provide a solution,” NSA Director, Strom Armstrong said.

“Stanley, what do you think?”

The bald portly man pushed his glasses up with a finger. “I am putting together a team to receive the aliens, but I think we should prepare for the worst.”

“Sir, this brings us to our next point. I know you want to wait for your husband, but we have to get you to NORAD. I hate to say this sir, but our priority is you and the American people expect you to lead them out of this crisis,” Strom said.

The president was about to protest, when there was a loud ruckus outside the office. One of the White House volunteers, Marietta Lewinsky, burst through the door.

“Sir!” She yelled out with an air of urgency. “The Japanese government is claiming that cluster thingie is an alien invasion.”

Everyone just stared at her for a moment before turning to the President, who was still looking at Marietta.

“God damn it,” said Evan. “Ms Lewinsky, please remove Prime Minister Misutārobotto from my friends list.”

“That’s not all. Putin called and said he will personally fuck the aliens in the ass & throw them all in a Gulag if they try to invade his country. He asked what our puny country was prepared to do. He also called you bitch tits.”

“He called me bitch tits?”

“Yes sir and he said we didn’t win the Cold War; it was a tie.”

“Anyone else call?”

“The French Prime Minister, Manuel Valls, said that France is already drafting up its terms for surrender. Also, your broker called. The stock market is in the shitter, because people think the world might be ending and gold is at a historic low. He said you need to buy as much gold as you can and if things don’t go tits up, you can sell and make a fortune.”

“Well, at least there is some good news,” the president said sarcastically.

“Mr. President we really must be getting you to NORAD. When your husband makes it to the Whitehouse, he can always ride in Air Force Two to meet you,” Ted said.

The President sighed. He hoped that the Secret Service Agents with Mick would get him back to the White House safely.

“Alright, but I need to take a leak first; I’m not Jack Bauer.”

***

In a totally looted GameStop, a mere block and a half from the Starbucks they left an hour ago, Mick Cage and his Secret Service detail, along with Kitty Catan, Tad and Geoff Hall, Lorenzo Abbatantuono, the owner of the Cherubim Café, and his employee, Tom the waiter, all gather around the sole TV left untouched in the store. It was located on the counter in clear view. Seeing that it was a small, 19″ box TV, the GameStop employees used to test systems, nobody was interested in grabbing it. The group wasn’t surprised to find it there; it was a piece of shit.

Geoff hooked the satellite cable to the back, and was just now turning on the set, in hopes that his party could get some updates on their pending doom.

Dick Richards, Anchor for CBS, was the voice they heard before the tubes in the tiny set fired up, revealing the butt-chinned, white-haired newscaster. He was just finishing up a thought when they tuned in.

…sources say they expect the worst. Once again, for those just joining us, we are sad to report that the Clusterfuckus, is estimated to reach us in a little over half an hour and is expected to be a near-extinction level event. It’s probably a waste of time, but we ask that you seek shelter immediately or do whatever drugs you have at your disposal. Maybe have some sex if you’re able.

“Kanye Christ!” Tad exclaimed. “What a fucking nightmare and right on my cat’s birthday.”

Tom the waiter began sobbing, “I’ll never finish my bucket list now. I knew I should’ve stuck Canoeing with Orcas at the top of the list!”

Before anyone else could chime in, Dick was handed a paper, which he skimmed and then touched his ear, listening carefully to the new information he was receiving. He turned white, as he looked off screen to someone unseen by the viewer, and questioned the update’s validity.

Is this right? Um, Ladies and gentlemen, it seems we have an update… The debris has slowed down… considerably. We are unaware if this is good or bad, but Russian officials have released statements claiming… I can’t believe I’m saying this… the clusters look to be some kind of… Vessels.

“Did he just tell us we’re about to be visited by aliens?” Geoff asked.

Dick looks down slightly, and then returns his finger to his ear. After a brief pause, he looks back into the camera, as if talking directly to the people watching.

Yes, we’re getting reports in from all across the globe and the general consensus is that this is alien in nature. It is unknown at this time if they are friendly or assholes. Let us now go to our reporter on the streets, Juniper Snow, for more.

“Thanks, Dick. I’m standing outside DC Wieners with two locals, Katie and Rose. Ladies, what is your reaction to the recent reports that we’re not alone in the universe?”

Tad suddenly perked up after seeing his crush on TV.

“I’m pretty excited, you know,” said Rose. “What if they’re all like, ‘we’re here to solve the world’s problems, like…you know, fatness and what not.’”

“Damn. She’s so hot,” Tad said.

Katie leaned in and opened her mouth to voice her opinion, but not before Juniper Snow pulled the microphone away to say, “Looks like things are pretty positive around here, Dick. Back to you.”

Mick turned to Larry, “Evan just sent me a text. They’re preparing to take him to NORAD. We’ve got to hurry. No more pussyfooting around.”

Tad the waiter went pale, “This is bad; this is so bad. I had a dream this would happen, but I had ice cream in that dream. This is significantly worse than my dream. There’s no ice cream. I know… I’ve looked!”

Kitty slapped Tom the waiter, “Calm your tits! We don’t know what they want yet.”

“Kitty’s right,” Geoff said, trying to help.

Not trying to help, Tad said, “Maybe they’re a race of Amazonian women, here to propagate their species?”

“Geoff,” Kitty said, “How did you spring from the same womb as this daft prick?”

Darryl number two stepped in, “Let’s move, guys; you can argue on the way. If we don’t get the First Husband to The White House in the next hour, I lose the bet I made with Larry.”

“If we don’t eat soon, I’m going to starve, hey,” said Lorenzo as he wipes the mustard from his lower lip.

“It’s amazing how similar all this is to my movie, Penetration of the Booty Snatchers,” Mick said.”

Everyone turns to focus on Mick. “What? It’s like… eerily similar.”

Darryl, numbers one and two, step to the door and pull out their guns.

“Yippee ki yay, mother fuckers!” They both yell in unison, and kick the door to GameStop open, as if they rehearsed it several times.

Everyone is caught off guard as Daryl one and two, dart outside with guns at the ready; like they were cowboys in a spaghetti western.

“Aaaah… Did we say we were doing that?” Tad asked.

“No,” said Larry, as he turns to motion for the First Gentleman. “I guess we’re doing this, Sir.”

“We’re coming out.” Mick yells to Darryl and Darryl. That’s not the first time I’ve yelled that…

***

A full year has passed since Mick Cage, star of Sex and the City and Death, met Governor Evan Bacon in southern Virginia. It was immediately after filming, what would be his breakout roll as John Rolfe in Pokahotass; a porn parody praised critically for its historical accuracy.  The two just finished their celebratory dinner, during which, they discussed the future and their plans to come out publicly as a couple.

“So we’re doing this?” Mick asks. “We’re coming out?”

“Definitely; I’m tired of keeping it a secret. I know you’re worried about my political career, but let me worry about that. You of all people know, this isn’t the worst thing that could come out about me,” Evan laughs.

“I haven’t even said it aloud to Marlo. I’m sure he knows, but still…”

“Listen, you and I; we are at the top of our game right now. Sex and the City and Death II releases next month and I’m meeting with President Trump tomorrow, to oversee the final bit of construction on the Trump Border Wall. The ribbon cutting ceremony in three weeks will be the perfect time to come out. Just imagine what that will do for your opening night?”

“You’re right,” Mick said with a smile. “You’re always right.”

“You’re damn right. Now enough talking, the debate is over. We’re doing it, but first, I’m doing you.”

The following day, Evan arrives at the border wall construction site by Playas de Tijuana. The Mexican construction workers are working day and night, to have it finished, before the ribbon cutting ceremony in 19 short days.

Evan notices they’re all singing a song unfamiliar to him. After Trump banned the Spanish language for all non-Hispanics during the end of his second term in office five years ago, many Americans have forgotten any Spanish not associated with the Taco Bell menu; food being the only exception to the law. All he can make out is, “no queremos para quedarse. Ha arruinado el país para todos.”

In the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of a limo off in the distance.

Trump is early; I guess I’ll grab that taco later rather than sooner.

He makes his way to the cul-de-sac, where Trump’s limo pulls around and comes to a halt. The Secret Service Agents, who are all foreign blonde models, gather around and survey the landscape. Not much preparation was needed, according to President Trump, because “the only way a bullet could stop Trump, is if Trump wants a bullet to stop Trump.”

The driver, also a Swedish goddess, runs around the limo in tall, clear heels, to open the President’s door.

“Mr. President, welcome to Playas de Tijuana,” Evan said.

Trump rises from the vehicle, “The pleasure is all yours; I’m sure. Are we on schedule?”

“Yes sir. They’ll be all set in a little over two weeks.”

“It’s great. It’s gonna be really, really great.”

“Right this way, Sir,” Evan motions.

The two begin their tour of the construction. “It’s been a long time in the making, but we’re finally on the home stretch. The war with Mexico set us back a bit and the repairs were expensive, but somehow you got them to pay for it all. It’s really quite impressive.”

“Yes,” Trump said as he smiled, quite impressed with himself. “When I threatened to send Gary Busey to Mexico permanently, they couldn’t pay fast enough.”

As the two continued their discussion along the wall’s edge, the workers above them leaned over to get a better look at the man they referred to as “El Enorme Polla.” One such worker, held his iPhone 12s out, in an attempt to snap a few shots of the American President. The worker loses his grip on the phone and the device falls, slamming into the ground, immediately in front of Trump.

“How dare you!” Trump yells in anger and grabbing the phone from the ground, hurls it back at the worker.

As if in slow motion, the phone spirals toward the construction worker, as he stares at it frozen from shock. The device strikes him right between the eyes, knocking him out and he somersaults over the scaffolding and onto the President.

“Mr President!” Evan cries out, as he drops by the fallen Trump’s side.

“Bacon… You finish this wall. These Mexicans have been falling on us for too long.”

“Um… I’m pretty sure this is the first time this has ever happened.”

“Promise me!”

“Yes sir,” Evan says with a nod. “I will finish what you have started.”

“Then deport all the gays.”

“Wait, what?” Evan asked. But he was too late. Deport all the gays would be Trump’s final words.

Yukon Do It!

Stuck at Reagan National Airport, Yukon Catan, has been steadily texting his beloved wife. He is absorbing all the information he can from the news reports on the TV at the bar, amongst all the crowd noise. The airport security has successfully locked down the building, with a little help from the police and no one can get in or out. His best friend and manager, Melvin Morgan, is behind the bar. Melvin wasn’t the first to hop the bar when things started going south, but when he got behind it; the originators quickly abandoned their posts. Even bigger than Yukon, Melvin was a sight to behold. As a large imposing African American man, he didn’t say much; he didn’t have to. People usually knew if they needed to move out of his way.

“I miss Zima,” Melvin said. “Remember Zima? That was my shit. Where’s Kitty now?”

“She’s at the Starbucks near our place,” Yukon said.

“Why is so hard to find olives? Kanye Christ, is it so hard to stock up on olives? Oh, never mind; here they are. This bar has horrible feng shui,” Melvin said before asking, “is she going home to wait this out?”

“No, she’s better off sticking with the First Gentleman. Even if they don’t make it to The White House, she’ll have the Secret Service detail to protect her from the rioters.”

“At least they have plenty of ice. I’m here to tell you, Yuke, if they were out of ice, I was gonna bring the fuckin’ roof down in this place. I still think you shouldn’t leave; they’ll never let you into the building.”

“I have to try Melvin. I belong with Kitty and even if I just get close, at least I’ll be closer to her. I think I may have an idea on how to get out of here.”

Yukon looks up at the TV, where people are on the street being interviewed.

“We did this,” one man said. “We put a homosexual in the Oval Office and now God is punishing us.”

“This is all just a ploy to sell generators,” another man claimed.

Yukon looks back at Melvin, who is flipping through the drink menu.

“Are you coming with me or staying?”

“Have you ever had one of these Dead Japanese Aviators? It looks like a Kamikaze, but with grenadine and a splash of milk. Interesting,” Melvin said before responding, “no, I’m staying; I’ll only slow you down.”

Yukon tries to call Kitty one last time, but the lines are still overloaded. He opens his messenger and types: I think I have an out. I know you want me to stay, but you know how stubborn I can be. I’m headed to The White House. I can’t take my phone, so this is it until I see you. I love you. Be safe.

Yukon slides his phone across the bar. “I’ll be back for this and I better not find any dick pics in my gallery again.”

Melvin just smiles and continues mixing his drink.

“Melvin… No dick pics. That shit was only funny the first three times and stop hiding them throughout my social media like Elf on the Shelf.”

Yukon gets up and heads towards the ground level of the airport, stepping over stranded and exhausted travelers peppered along the floor. He makes his way down the stairs, despite having to hurdle bored children playing on them. The doors are all blocked by police, security and screaming travelers, but the back of the building, which faces the tarmac, is relatively empty. Yukon took his time making his way to the back, scanning the landscape for something… heavy. He spots an unmanned baggage cart near the crowd with plenty of runway. He eases his way over to it, careful not draw attention to himself, and navigates around to the handles. Just like a gunshot, he blasts into full speed, pushing the cart into action. Instantly, the group nearest him hears his heavy steps, coupled with the cart’s squeaky wheel, inherent of all carts in the universe. A security guard also notices the cart.

“Hey asshole! Stop!”

Yukon introduces the baggage cart to the window and the glass is reduced to shards. The cart dives onto the tarmac and Yukon follows suit. Just a few seconds later, another cart being manned by an inspired witness, crashes into the adjacent window, but with a different effect. Yukon, hearing the noise, turns his head to see some poor soul smashed up against the glass.

A mob of people rush out of the new exit, and a few security personnel too. Yukon reaches the end of the property and without a thought or loss of time, dives into the Potomac.

The security team and spectators reach the water’s edge…

“Holy shit,” one of the onlookers uttered. “Did he just jump into the Potomac River in January?”

An older gentleman, who looked a lot like the principle from, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off said, “that water must be freezing.”

Finally, a lady in the crowd peaked over into the drink and added, “a moment of silence for that dude’s balls. Am I right?”

Melvin only smiled when he saw his buddy Yukon dive into the Potomac.

It’s not like that’s the first time I’ve ever seen that mad man jump into a river, he thought.

Melvin takes Yukon’s phone out of his pocket and heads to the bathroom.

“Everyone loves a good dick pic,” he said out loud. An elderly lady passing by looked at him a little frightened.

“Er…sorry mam.”

Yukon laughed as he dove into the Potomac. I would have loved to seen the look on their faces; they probably think I’m going to freeze to death, he thought.

Seconds after Yukon hit the water; he lost his boots and wiggled out of his designer suit, revealing his wet suit underneath.

He always wore a wet suit underneath his clothes, to him it was like a bullet proof vest; you never knew would it might save your life. It had come in handy a few other times as well, but it was a little bit annoying when he was trying to have sex with his wife, because it was a bitch to take off.

The Potomac River is about 300 miles in length and he had swum the entire length before. He knew the shortest distance to land was at Hains Point; a piece of cake for him. Once there, perhaps he could hot-wire a golf cart and drive the rest of the way. Maybe he would stop for a few kielbasas at DC Wieners.

Nothing like some sausage after a swim to refuel, he thought.

Yukon made slow and steady strokes. The key in long distance swimming was pacing yourself; you didn’t want to tire out too soon. The other important thing was maintaining control of your breathing. The only thing he concentrated on was reaching Kitty.

After what seemed like no time at all, he reached Hains Point. It is just like a scene out of the Creature from the Black Lagoon, where a hulking frame rises out of the waters of the Potomac. The creature crawling up out of the river would shock the average person, but today the area is all but abandoned. The only witness to Yukon’s emergence is Stinky Joe, a Hains Point staple. Stinky Joe looks up from the trash bin, just long enough to glance at Yukon in recognition of his movement, and then returns to his hunt for treasures to add to his rusty cart. As Yukon passes him, he pauses again, only long enough to explain how aliens are influencing our actions through fluoride in the drinking water.

“I’ll alert the President right away,” he said to the delight of Stinky Joe.

Only slightly tired from his dip in the icy river, thanks to his Olympic training, Yukon was still worried he may not make it all the way up Ohio Drive along the East Potomac Golf Course, much less over the bridge and then the long stretch of 14th Street to his place. He would need to stop at home first, before back tracking slightly to reach the White House.

He needed shoes, since he had to lose his Uggs back at the airport after his dive into the drink. He could use some dry clothes too. He couldn’t show up at The White House in his wetsuit. Not again.

As luck would have it, a car was making its way toward Yukon.

Maybe I can hitch a ride, he thought to himself as he cast his thumb into the air.

As the car approached, it slowed down and Yukon was surprised to see his friend Melvin at the controls.

“I found a shitload of maraschino cherries at the bar. You need a lift?”

Yukon smiled, “How did you escape the airport?”

“I brought the cherries along for snacks. You left the door wide open back at Reagan and everyone rushed out that big ass hole in the window. Well, everyone but me. Once everyone was gone, I just walked right out the front door. What we’re they gonna do, keep a lone black man prisoner? Bitch, please. Plus, I’m piss drunk, playa. They ain’t tryin to tame the beast!”

“Well I’m glad to see you. You okay to drive?”

“Nope.” Melvin said.

Yukon took the driver’s seat and waited for Melvin to hop back in the Ford Fusion.

“Here take this, if I sit on it any longer; it may hatch,” Melvin said before reaching into his back pocket to produce Yukon’s phone.

Yukon unlocked his phone and before changing his wallpaper back from the pic of Melvin’s dick, he looked to see if Kitty had text him back. She sent three.

Text number one: I agree. U R stubborn. I know I can’t stop u. Just pls be safe.

Text number two: OMG! Pls stop sending pics of Melvin’s dick.

Text number three: More? Really?

Yukon looked over at Melvin, who is all teeth by this point, and couldn’t help but smile back at his friend.

“We need to get you a hobby, Melvin.”

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.”

Kohl’s Cash and Carry

President Evan Bacon was pacing back and forth in the Oval Office and going over what he was going to say in his address to the American public and the world.  He looked at his appearance in the mirror.

“I need more powder on my nose; it’s too shiny. I look like Nixon in his debate with Kennedy.”

“The makeup artist is already gone; you told him you were ready,” Eggs his Chief of Staff said.

“Well, call him back; this is my Gettysburg Address. It is my F.D.R. State of the Union Address; it’s my…”

He couldn’t think of anymore famous presidential speeches, so he added, “it’s my god damn one small step for man speech.”

“Yes Mr. President. Cameron called; he needs to speak to you immediately.”

“This is no time to talk about movie roles; I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

“Sir? Oh no, not that Cameron; I meant the British Prime Minister. You also received phone calls from Chancellor Merkel and Putin.”

“Call them all back. Tell Cameron I need him to pull a, Winston Churchill type person out of his ass. Tell Merkel, this is no time for a third attempt to take over Europe. Tell Putin, that I’m already married and no means no. Did anyone else call?”

“Dick Cheney called and said we should start drilling for oil on the debris, before the Russians and the Chinese beat us to it.”

“Dick Cheney? I thought he was dead.”

“No sir; that’s just the way he looks.”

“Okay listen, I’ll deal with all these people later; right now I need to concentrate on my speech.”

White House Press Secretary, Helen Yardley, walked in looking a little disheveled. She had not slept much over the past few days.

“Mr. President, you should go ahead and take your seat. We start in one minute.”

“Do you still want me to call the makeup artist?” Eggs asked.

“No, there’s no time. I’ll have to just look like a street hooker.”

The president sat down at the Oval Office desk and folded his hands. He thought that looked more presidential.

“Okay, we are on in five, four, three to two, one…”

Helen gives the signal that it’s time for transmission.

“Good afternoon, my fellow Americans. NASA scientists have confirmed that what we thought earlier of as debris, is not debris at all. At this point in time, they have not yet been able to identify the approaching objects that are now in Mars’ gravitational pull. Scientists are now classifying the objects as a ‘clusterfuckus.’ It is still too early to tell, if this clusterfuckus is on a trajectory towards Earth. You can rest assured, that we are putting a contingency plan in place though; we are prepared to launch missiles to intercept and destroy this clusterfuckus, or at least deflect it from its current path. We will have to wait until they get closer to Earth, when they are in range of our missiles. This is one of a few options we are considering, but it is all speculation at this time. I know this of great concern to everyone, but I cannot stress the importance of remaining calm and going about your daily routine. As F.D.R. once said, ‘the only thing we have to fear, is fear itself or an asteroid, the size of California, hitting the earth and wiping out the entire population.’ If the clusterfuckus turns out to be an asteroid, I can promise you; we will not stand idly by like the dinosaurs did. We are Americans and we have much larger brains. As with every other challenge in our nation’s history, we will prevail, unlike that time in Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan and the Civil War, depending on which side you were on. I will keep you apprised of the situation and let you know information as soon as I know it, because we are all in this together. Good afternoon America and God bless.

The Press Secretary gave the all clear sign.

“Sir, the press has been relentless; do you want me to make a statement and take some questions?” Helen asked.

“Hold the press off as long as you can, at least until we know more. I don’t want them creating a panic.”

“I’ll try sir, but CNN already has Anderson Cooper in a windbreaker.”

“Damn, that’s never good.”

“Try to relax Mr. President.”

“I won’t be able to relax, not until I know my husband is safe and sound.”

***

Weaving their way through the streets of D.C., Kitty and her crew are slowly making their way to The White House. The path up until this point has been littered with looters. Ever cautious, the Secret Service has been hiding the first husband in emptied out stores, until the streets are calm enough to reach the next gutted business. Currently, the group is hiding out in a small mom and pop convenience store.

“I wonder why they haven’t touched this spot yet?” Tad asked.

Larry, one of the secret service men assigned to protect the first husband, turns from the window just long enough to acknowledge he heard the question and looking back out of the window says, “Everyone is looting Kohl’s.”

“Kohl’s?” Geoff asked.

“Yes. Kohl’s. This is Washington; it’s not exactly known for being stocked with intelligent people.”

He looks at Mick to add, “Present company excluded, sir.”

Mick closes his clamshell compact mirror with a quick snap and looks up at Larry with his freshly lined eyes. “Humh?”

“Nothing sir, just making sure you’re okay.”

“Oh, everything is kittens and dildos over here.”

Lorenzo’s head tilts like a confused puppy, “I don’t understand this phrase hey.”

“I don’t think that is a real saying,” Tom said.

“Tom,” says Mick, “May I call you Tom?”

“Um, yes sir, but my name is actu-”

“Tom,” Mick interrupted, “has anyone ever told you that you have a kind face?”

Tom, the waiter, just stares at the first husband, shrugs and flashes a little smile.

Kitty couldn’t help but notice how Mick had a way about him; he could be a horse’s ass and still retain favorability.

“How do you do that?” She asks.

“Look so fabulous?”

“No, how do make people love you? With all due respect, you have a job that many people frown upon, yet even the Bible thumpers like you. You single handedly brought porn to the mainstream.”

“And I can be an asshole.”

“And you can be an asshole,” she confirmed.

“Just good, I guess. But it wasn’t always that way…”

***

Hot off the heels of his last movie, The Men Who Stare at Chodes; a huge success in the porno industry, Mick Cage was preparing for his next project. His last film was the first pornographic film to earn the term, “Blockbuster” for its word-of-mouth buzz; generating long lines during the first three weeks of its run. The buzz around this current project is already eclipsing anything ever seen in the adult movie industry. Feces of Death, has already pre-sold more tickets than last year’s top box office draw, Fast and Furious 13: Beating a Dead Horse.

“The word around Hollywood is, Feces of Death may be an Oscar contender,” Mick’s manager, Marlo Jenkins, boasts.

“I’ve been talking with MGM; they are making a movie called, Sex and the City and Death. They want you for the lead role of Brad Shaw!”

“That could seriously be a game changer for me,” Mick said.

“Feces of Death is going to make you a huge action star. The whole idea of you getting revenge on the men responsible for raping you into a decade long coma is so original.”

“I couldn’t have gotten this far without you, Marlo,” Mick is quick to point out.

“No, this was all you, Mick. I don’t know what happened to you after you wrapped, Pokahotass; that cowboys and Indians themed porno you filmed in North Carolina two years ago, but ever since that day; you’ve been knocking it out of the park.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve just been lucky I guess.”

“No, it’s more than that. You’re glowing. It’s like you’re pregnant or something. Mick, I think you’re in love.”

Debris or Not to Debris

Scientists from NASA have not been able to identify what they are calling ‘debris’ yet. The only thing they know at this time, is that it is moving very rapidly and is now approaching Mars. At this point, the debris is on a path towards Earth, but that could change at any given moment. The president is expected to address the nation within the hour. Mike Brown, who was recently reinstated as director of FEMA by the president, has called the crisis, ‘not a Katrina type situation.’ He has asked that everyone remain calm as this mystery unfolds. Stanley Johnson, director of Homeland Security, when asked about the debris said, ‘I don’t want to speculate at this time.’ And now, we go live on the streets in front of Trump Towers in New York, where mourners light candles in remembrance of Donald Trump. He died one year ago today, tragically being crushed to death by a construction worker. Trumps death left not only a hole in our hearts, but also a half constructed wall between Mexico and the United States, which the Mexican citizens call, ‘Ese muro gringos es estupido.’ We don’t know what that means, but we assume it is a tribute to a true patriot. We will show the footage, that President Bacon, who was witness to the event, recorded on his phone and immediately uploaded to YouTube after Trump’s untimely death; where it would go on to receive more views than David Hasselhoff’s drunken cheeseburger rant.

Kitty Catan, first husband Mick Cage-Bacon, Lorenzo Abbatantuono, the owner of the Cherubim Café, the waiter, which we decided to name Tom and other patrons of the Cherubim Café, all stood around watching the news in stunned silence.

“This is terrifying,” Kitty said.

“I agree; Jenna Lee should fire her hair stylist immediately,” Mick said.

“I meant about the debris headed towards Earth.”

“Oh yes, that could be problematic,” Mick said.

“This is not good, not like my hot pastrami, hey,” Lorenzo added jokingly and nudging the first husband in the ribs, but stopped as one of the Secret Service agents drew his gun.

Tad Hall, also known as @BootyBlaster69, walks in to look for his brother Geoff. Geoff, who has still not yet been seated, also watched the news broadcast. He sees his twin brother and waves to get his attention.

“I don’t see Rose here. I don’t think she’s coming,” Tad said.

“I would give her the benefit of the doubt; the end of the world is a pretty good reason not to meet someone for lunch,” Geoff said.

“Yeah I agree—wait what? I thought the debris was predicted to miss Earth?”

“Maybe it will; maybe it won’t. I’m just saying your crush may have wanted to handle more important things. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve also been stood up for the same reason,” Geoff said.

“Someone stood you up, because they thought the world was ending?”

“Yeah, turns out this girl was in a cult and her cult leader said the world was ending right at our date time,” Geoff said.

“What happen to the girl, obviously the world didn’t end? Tad asked.

“The next day when the world didn’t end, they all killed themselves in a mass suicide.”

“What? When was this? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about that.”

“It’s a little embarrassing to have someone commit suicide rather than have a date with you,” Geoff said.

“I see your point. Well, since we are here, do you want to go ahead and get a sandwich? I’m starving.”

“Hopefully they will call our name soon. The reason it’s so crowded is because apparently the first husband is here,” Geoff said.

“Really! I’ve never been a big fan of any of his movies.”

“I kind of liked, Sex and the City and Death. They are supposed to be making a third one.”

“How are they going to do that? I thought he was pummeled by a rolling bale of hay, beheaded and then castrated by ninjas,” Tad said.

“It’s Hollywood, they can and will do anything they want, if they think people will still pay to see it,” Geoff said.

Tad was about to comment, when the sound of glass breaking, screams and a whizzing bullet, made him stop in his tracks. Someone had thrown a brick through the front window causing chaos. The moment the glass shattered, three of the Secret Service agents dove on the first husband, nearly crushing him. One agent fired his gun in the air, which created more panic.

“What’s going on?” Tad asked terrified.

“I guess it’s starting,” Geoff said calmly.

Tad and Geoff are identical twins, but their personalities couldn’t be more different. Tad was always anxious and nervous. He could get overwhelmed easily and Geoff always remained calm, no matter what the situation. He had nerves of steel.

“The looting has started.”

“What are we going to do? This is terrible,” Tad said.

“I know; I was really looking forward to a hot pastrami sandwich,” Geoff said.

The Secret Service agents start to peel off the pile, to reveal a very crumpled first husband.

“Are you alright?” Kitty asked.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had three men on me,” Mick said with a wink that no one could see, due to his face being muffled by a crotch of one of the agents.

“You can hop off anytime now, Larry, Darryl, and Darryl.”

“What should we do?” Tom the waiter asked Lorenzo.

Lorenzo simply shrugged his shoulders and took a bite of the half-eaten sandwich on the table closest to him. Everyone focused on the café owner, who was devouring some stranger’s meal. He paused, feeling everyone’s eyes on him.

“What? I eat when I’m nervous hey,” He said with a mouth full of food.

“We need to get Mr. Cage-Bacon out of the café and into a more secure location,” Larry said.

Darryl and Darryl nodded their heads in agreement.

“Is there a rear exit in here?” Darryl number two asked Lorenzo.

“You said, ‘rear exit,'” Larry said and snorted.

Kitty rolled her eyes at the sophomoric joke.

“Kitty is coming with,” Mick added.

“Sir,” said Darryl number one, “Our priority is getting you to safety.”

“Okay. Well first of all, Darryl, I know what your priorities are, because need I remind you that I played a British Secret Service agent in last year’s, In Her Majesty’s Secret Cervix. Secondly, I’m in charge here. So, I say we’re taking Kitty with us and now Lorenzo and Tom the waiter too,” Mick said.

“Actually,” Tom the waiter said, “my name is-”

“Don’t tell us your real name. Tom the waiter is easier to remember and besides, I have you pegged as the red jumper in the group. Now lead the way,” Mick said.

Throughout the café, patrons were watching people outside lose their shit. Geoff dashed to the door and fastened the lock.

“What are you doing?” Tad asked.

“If that insanity makes its way in here, we’ll never get a table,” Geoff said as calmly as one would expect to hear from James Bond.

“But Rose…”

Geoff laughed. “You said, ‘Butt Rose’.”

Tad tried not to look amused, but he couldn’t help it; his brother’s immaturity always made him laugh. He hoped he could figure out a way to turn, Butt Rose into a tweet later.

Geoff motioned to the back of the café near the gender neutral restrooms.

Tad turned to see the TV near the kitchen; it was broadcasting the news.

“Right, let’s see what the hell is happening.”

As they make their way to the back, @KatieTeamEdward, sees her friend Rose outside. She makes her way to the door, to let her in and out of the chaos that is going on outside. Katie was not pretty in the conventional sense. She almost looked like she could be Charlton Heston’s daughter, if Charleston Heston had mated with one of the other apes in Planet of the Apes.

“OMG, Rose… Are you Okay?” Katie asked in a smoky, Kathleen Turner type voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Can you believe this?”

“I know, right? They’re saying if these things hit us, we’re like, doomed and what not.”

“I know! I can’t believe I’m going to die a virgin. A hot, eighteen year old virgin, who is probably into bondage and butt stuff. I suppose we’ll never know what kinky stuff I’m into.”

“So hot; so tragic,” Katie agreed.

“Too bad you’re not a guy, Katie.”

Katie laughs sadly, as she sighs under her breath; secretly wishing she could confess her deep, lesbian love for Rose.

“Oh well,” Rose, the eighteen year old virgin, who is probably into bondage and butt stuff said, “Let’s go loot Kohl’s.”

***

In the back of the café, Geoff and Tad reach the TV and before they get the opportunity to absorb the information, which was almost being yelled at them from Channel Twelve’s, Jenna Lee; Tad slams tits first into Kitty Catan.

“Watch it, lady! Um…Kitty?”

“Tad?” Kitty said in surprise.

“Geoff, check it out; your ex is stalking you.”

Geoff peeps over Tad’s shoulder.

“Hi Kitty,” he says and disappears behind his brother again.

“I’m not stalking your brother, moron. I’m here for work,” Kitty explains.

“Right…” Tad remarks in true asshole form.

“Who’s your friend?” Mick asks.

“Oh he’s not my friend,” Kitty is quick to point out. “He’s a lot like that debris that’s headed for us.”

“Hey guys, we have a problem,” Tom the waiter said.

He points to the front, where looters are beginning to spill into the café.

“Hmm… I thought I locked that,” Geoff said calmly.

“Sir!” Larry yelled, “We gotta go now!”

The Secret Service agents begin ushering the first husband out of the rear exit, along with Kitty and company. Tad and Geoff, being the only barrier left between the group and the exit, are forcefully pressed into the back alley like Play-Doh through a keyhole.

“What now?” Tom the waiter asked.

“We have to get the First Gentleman to the White House,” Darryl number two replies, already on the move.

“An adventure!” Mick yells out in excitement. “This will be just like my movie, Temple of Womb… Well, sort of.”

“I didn’t like that movie either,” Tad whispers.

Geoff looks at his brother with resolve, as if he has a solution to this entire mess.

“Do we have time for me to check and see how my last tweet did?”

Best. Sandwiches. Ever.

Ones and zeros. The building blocks of information. Just outside of Alexandria Virginia, a young woman who goes by the name, Rose, is broadcasting her image to the web. The image travels in all directions at lightning speeds. Her likeness is transferred to thousands of people’s devices in the form of ones and zeros, where the information is then decoded and reshaped into an image pleasing to the eye. Her long red hair, equally red lips, and big, bright eyes are transmitted through space and into her fan’s palms. The same process is used to send countless images, videos and other information across the globe. Rose prefers to use this technology to send selfies and pics of her food to her adoring fans. One of those fans is in her apartment building. Online, he is known as @BootyBlaster69, but in the real world, his name is Tad. Although Rose and Tad have never bumped into one another, they’ve had plenty of interaction over Twitter. Tad is hoping to meet Rose today. She posted on Twitter about meeting a friend in DC for brunch later.

“OMG! So excited for brunch with @KatieTeamEdward today,” she posted. Followed by ‘#CherubimCafé’ and ‘#BestSandwiches'”

Tad invited his brother, Geoff to join him as his wing man.

He was probably already here, but I better give him a call,” Tad thought.

“I bet it’s busier than a coffee house toilet.” Tad said aloud and laughed. “I’m gonna tweet that.”

Pulling out his enormous iPhone 9 Plus, he dialed his slightly older, slightly more punctual twin brother’s number. 867-530… 8.

“Hello?”

“Hey bro. It’s me. You there yet?”

“Yeah. One sec… Hall…Table for two, please. -OK, sorry. Just getting us on the list. It’s busier than a Starbucks shitter today.”

God damn it, Tad thought.

Upon ending the call, Tad hurried to his Twitter app to post what his brother said. In his rush, he bumped into a lady, almost knocking her down, but his focus was barely broken. He held his hand up as to motion that he was at fault, but an apology was not going to leave his lips this day. He didn’t even realize he was walking in the wrong direction, but he did notice one thing; a picture someone posted of a cluster of dots near Uranus. Apparently, these dots were huge asteroids headed toward earth, though predicted to miss us; they would pass close enough to see in the sky with the naked eye. It seemed to be a huge deal. Tad didn’t notice, but a majority of the people around him were also studying their phones, absorbing all the information they could about the matter.

***

Kitty was flushed; she felt sweaty and hoped the Axe Body Spray that she used of her husband’s, because her deodorant ran out; would hold up. The first husband was already seated and was dressed stylishly as ever with his pink ascot.

I wonder if I could get Yukon to wear a pink ascot, she thought.

“Mr. Cage it’s so nice of you to agree to an interview.”

“Please, no need to be so formal, just call me Mick or the nickname the press gave me, the Cage-Baconator.”

Kitty laughed, but it came out sounding kind of forced. She sat down and laid her cell phone on the table. It was blowing up with updates from her social media accounts. She ignored them; she wanted to let Mick know he had her full attention.

“I’ve already picked out what I want. Do you need time to go over the menu?” He asked.

“No, I’m come here often with my husband, so I’m going to get my usual sweet potato burrito.”

The waiter came over to take their drink order.

“I’ll have water with lemon,” Kitty said.

“Do you have any peach schnapps?” Mick asked.

“I’m sorry sir, but we don’t serve alcohol.”

Mick narrowed his eyes. “I think you do.”

The waiter looked at Kitty for help. Kitty avoided making eye contact with him.

“I’m really sorry sir, but we don’t serve alcohol.”

“I think you do.”

The waiter, who didn’t look anymore than a day over 21, did not have any experience with what to do, when the husband of the president of the United States was demanding alcohol when the cafe you worked for didn’t even have a liquor license.

“I’ll talk to the manager and see what I can do. Meanwhile, may I get your food order?”

“I’ll have the sweet potato burrito,” Kitty said.

“I’ll have a spanikopita, with no salt and fresh dill,” Mick said.

The waiter was in disbelief. They didn’t have spanakopita or any other Greek food. He thought the first husband was actually pulling his leg, but the look on his face said he was deadly serious. He didn’t want to go through the whole, “We don’t have that; I think you do,” scenario again though.

“I’ll talk to the chef.”

Kitty, who was a professional, didn’t even flinch; she held together the plastered grin on her face that she used for interviews.

“I wanted to start with–”

Mick cut her off. “I wanted to lay out a few ground rules first. The first is that I don’t want to be misquoted. The reason I chose you, is because I love your interviews and I think they are straight forward and without embellishment, so I’ll trust you to do the same with me. My only other stipulation is that you don’t ask me anything too personal, needless to say my sex life is off the table. My husband is president of the United States and I don’t need to remind you what happened to Jimmy Hoffa.”

Kitty wasn’t aware that anyone knew what happened to Jimmy Hoffa or what the President had to do with his disappearance. What happened to Jimmy Hoffa, could be something that was told to every sitting president on their first day in office for all she knew.

“Yes, of course. I will quote you directly and I will certainly respect your privacy,” she said with her usual grace and charm.

The waiter who was now debating his life choices was running across the street to the, Blue Oyster Bar.

He entered the crowded bar and noticed the usual song, El Bimbo was not playing and no one was dancing. (Please listen and enjoy the song anyway, El Bimbo by Bimbo Jet https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFifyV6vfBw ) He went over to the bartender and ordered the peach schnapps. The bar was crowded with the usual Men at Work types. The waiter whose name is unknown to us at this time, looked around to see if anyone was watching. His plan was to very nonchalantly walk out the door with the drink, without drawing any attention to himself. He was in luck, because everyone seemed to be engrossed with whatever they were reading on their phones. He started to walk toward the door and bumped into a man who looked exactly like Shipwreck from GI Joe. He even had a parrot on his shoulder. He spilled a little of the peach schnapps on his shirt. The waiter thought he was about to get punched, but unbelievably Shipwreck didn’t even look up from his phone.

I could walk out of here with all the money in the register and no one would even notice, he thought.

The waiter leaves out the door with the drink and walks across the street, careful not to spill anymore. He picks up the glass of water with lemon for Kitty and heads to their table.

The first husband was sitting with his back straight and legs crossed; he looked like a woman from the 1950’s who had gone to a “finishing school” to learn proper etiquette.

“Here’s a glass of water with lemon for you Kitty and peach schnapps for the gentleman.”

Mick looked at the waiter as if he didn’t know who he was and why was bringing him this beverage.

“Oh yes, I’ve changed my mind; I will have a water with lemon also.”

The waiter sighed and collected the drink. He walked back to the kitchen and gulped it down. He decided he would need some alcohol in his system in order to get through this meal.

“Do you mind if I use my laptop to take a few notes?” Kitty asked.

The first husband didn’t respond he just waved his hand.

“Where did you and the President first meet?”

“Well, this was before I was a famous action movie star. I started out in low budget porn and we met on the set of the movie I was shooting, Evil Head II.

For once, Kitty was not able to hold her smile; she wrinkled her brow, unsure of how to proceed.

I thought he didn’t want to talk about his sex life.

The owner, Lorenzo Abbatantuono, called Lorenzo’s Oil by his friends interrupted their conversation. For Kitty, it was a welcome interruption.

“Please, you must come and look at the TV now, hey.” Lorenzo had an Italian accent and always ended his sentences with, “hey.”

“You want us to look at the TV?” Kitty asked.

“I’m right in the middle of giving an interview. I haven’t even told her about the other films, The Sexorcist and Good Will Humping.

“Please, you must come and look at the TV now, hey.”

Kitty and Mick followed Lorenzo through the kitchen to see the TV. What they saw was the most amazing thing ever.

***

Deep in the bowels of the White House, President Bacon had just wrapped up introductions in the Situation Room. General Usrodd and a handful of other military leaders, are peppered amongst a few characters in dark suits and sensing the general’s uneasiness, the President immediately addressed him.

“General, you look like you’re four turns deep into a game of Russian roulette. What’s eating you? Is American Idol returning?”

“Sir, I’m sure you’ve read this morning’s reports?”

“I have.”

“Sir, we have an urgent update.”

“Concerning?”

“The debris cluster by Uranus this morning–”

“–HOW DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THAT?!” Evan yelled out, chuckling on the inside.

General Usrodd, unaffected by humor on a good day replied, “…is moving faster than initially reported. Sir, it’s going to be closer than predicted.”

“General, since you’re the one presenting this information to me, I’m assuming we’re going to have to implement some drastic measures?”

“You’d be correct, Sir.”

“How fast are these things moving?”

“Mr. President,” the General paused… “They’re approaching Mars now.”

A wave of seriousness overcame Evan. “Mars?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yes, Mr. President. Mars.”

“Oh god dammit.”

“Yes Sir. They’ll reach our atmosphere in a few hours.”

“God dammit!”

“Mr President, we’ve never seen anything like it,” one of suits interjects. “My colleagues and I at NASA believe this cluster was slingshotted around a black hole. It’s the only way to account for their speed. It’s a rather large cluster, Sir. We believe they’re about the width of our moon. If they hit us, we’re talking extinction level event.”

“Oh… God dammit…”

Evan took a moment to think. He ran his fingers through his hair, resting his hands on the back of his head. He studied Randy, the NASA suit, with his short, orange hair, huge glasses and lady voice, whom he would’ve torn to shreds if the situation weren’t so dire.

“I almost would’ve preferred to have American Idol back,” he quipped.

Nobody found it amusing.

I’m gonna die with these stiffs, he thought.

Pointing randomly into the group of suits littering the room, Evan made his first command.

“We can’t keep quiet about this. We may spark a panic, but if these things miss us and it gets out that we kept this from the public, my presidency will reach extinction level. None of you want me in your ass if that happens. Take that literally or figuratively. We need to set up an emergency news conference. This happens now and for the love of Zeus, someone fetch my husband. He’s at the Cherubim Cafe giving an interview. I need him here, so I have one less thing to worry about. Retrieve him quietly and get me a Reuben… That place has the best sandwiches.”

Prologue

Everything has a beginning and an end. Love… life… this story…
The world also has a starting point. We debate how that story began, but we may soon discover how it ends. Perhaps by the time we finish this tale, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The story isn’t over yet. In fact, it’s just getting started and what better way to start than at the beginning… of the end?

A New Day

It was unusually warm for a January morning in the District of Columbia. Evan began to wonder if he’d ever get to sleep-in again.

Probably not for the next four years, or maybe even eight, he thought.

Awakened by staffers and advisors instead of his husband, Mick; he felt reality grab hold. He knew things were going to change, but he didn’t fully grasp the concept until now. By assuming the most powerful office on the planet, he lost all control. His day was now micro-managed to the nanosecond and bathroom breaks not excluded.

“Mr. President,” said a thin figure standing in the doorway.

“Are you ready to begin?” It was Evan’s Chief of Staff, Hank.

“Is anyone ever ready for this?” Evan replied with a smirk.

Hank just smiled in return and handed him a thick file followed by a thin, sealed envelope.

“Today’s codes, Mr. President.”

“Mr. President. I’ll have to get use to that,” Evan said.

He leaned over his husband, Mick, kissed him softly and slipped out into the hall.

On his way to The Oval Office, Evan familiarized himself with his schedule.

“Meeting… meeting… meeting… How am I going to get anything done?” Evan asked Hank, not expecting an answer.

He glanced at the Gold Codes. Gold Codes was the term used for the nuclear launch codes.

“8675309, Really? Seriously Hank?”

“Sorry Mr. President. I’ll tell the NSA that you don’t care for their sense of humor.”

He smiled. He actually did have a good sense of humor; he was just feeling stressed.

“I knew I’d have my hands full today, but I expected a bit more action,” He said.

Hank was quick to respond, “Careful what you ask for, Mr. President. Soon you may have too much action.” Hank said.

“Well, not that much action; I haven’t even taken my Viagra yet and my husband is still asleep–” The President stopped to look at Hank and realized from his facial expression that they were talking about two different things.

“Oh, you mean with the current state of affairs. That’s a good point, Eggs,” Evan said.

A tall, slender man, Hank Benedict was Evan’s closest friend in Washington. Early on in their relationship, he received the nickname, “Eggs” due, in part, to his last name being Benedict, but not helped by his association with then Governor, Evan Bacon. Now President Bacon’s Chief of Staff, Eggs settled into his new position rather quickly, as if the job was tailored to him. He felt comfortable instantly; this was where he was meant to be.

Now entering the Oval Office, President Evan Bacon and Chief of Staff Hank Benedict were eager to start their journey.

“Ready to save the world, Eggs?”

“I started saving it three hours before you got out of bed,” Eggs replied jokingly.

“Three hours before you got out of bed; it’s Mr. President,” Evan interjected.

“Yes. Sorry, Mr. President,” Eggs responded, lowering his head as if his error just cost him his job.

“I’m joking.” Evan said with a smile. “Take it easy, bud; you’ll give yourself an aneurysm. It’s not the end of the world.”

“We should get down to some pressing domestic matters. You really need to sign the Social Security and Marriage Equality Act.”

“You know I’m opposed to gay marriage.” The president slams his “Hell No” stamp down on the bill.

“Yes sir, but the people will find it very hypocritical since you yourself are–”

“What? Spit it out Eggs. This is no time to mince words.”

“The people will think you are a hypocrite, since you yourself are married to a person of the same sex.”

“I see; I never thought of it that way. Do you have any whiteout?”

“No need for whiteout. I have another copy; whiteout on a federal bill wouldn’t look too…presidential.”

The President signed the bill and straightened his eye patch, which bore the presidential seal on it.

“What’s next on my agenda?”

“The director of Homeland Security, Stanley Johnson is waiting to see you.”

President Evan Bacon’s husband, Mick Cage-Bacon, leaped into the Oval Office with his usual dramatic flair.

“I’m afraid ole Stanley is going to have to wait.”

Nick was wearing a pale blue chiffon shirt with a pink ascot and tan khakis. Jackie Kennedy had nothing on him. As the first husband, he wanted to make sure he was always dressed well. He was also in charge of several charities including his favorite, Apparel Without Borders, which provided all the latest fashion to children in third world countries. He was so proud, from Algeria to South Africa; kids were wearing Gucci, Prada and carrying some of the most stylish Coach purses. Just because you were starving to death, doesn’t mean you can’t look good, is the way he looked at it.

Eggs took Mick’s entrance as his cue to leave; he wanted them to have some alone time.

President Bacon gets up from his desk to embrace his husband. He inhales Mick’s fragrance; he always smells so nice like licorice and peach schnapps.

“What are you doing today, my love?”

“I have to meet my stylist in an hour and then I have to get a pedi and after that I’m meeting Kitty from Rolling Stone for brunch to do an interview.”

Evan smiled; he loved that his husband was a serious individual who cared about the important issues.

“I start shooting the action film I’m starring in today.”

“Which action film is that?”

“Sex and the City and Death III.”

“Oh yes, that one.”
Evan had not seen Sex and the City and Death I and II yet, but had it on his DVR and was planning on watching them as soon as he got some free time.

“Do you think we have time for a JFK?” Evan asked. JFK was their code word for sex; it was also their safe word, so it could get confusing at times.

“I don’t think I have time for a JFK.”
President Bacon tried not to show his disappointment; he was feeling stressed and a JFK would be just what he needed.

“But I do have time for a Bill Clinton.”
Evan laughed. He had certainly married well. Mick was absolutely perfect.

Two minutes and twenty seven seconds later, President Bacon was buzzing his chief of staff.

Eggs walked in as Mick was leaving. Eggs noticed the President seemed more relaxed and ready to work. He also noticed that his fly was open.

“What’s next on the agenda?”

“The director of Homeland Security, Stanley Johnson has been waiting half an hour to see you.”

“Well, send him right in Eggs; don’t keep the man waiting.”

“Yes sir and might I suggest…”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Let Stanley tell him his fly is open; he was so much better at that sort of thing, Eggs thought.

Eggs ushers in the Homeland Security director, and a portly bald man enters the room, wearing a gray suit and a blue tie. His shirt was starched and he was a stark contrast to the President, who playfully had his cuffs rolled up and was not wearing a tie at all. Stanley took off his bifocals and breathed on the lenses and then wiped them off with his jacket. His glasses were so thick, that his eyes looked like two marbles trapped in a fish bowl. Still, appearances could be deceiving, because Stanley Johnson was the most efficient man that Evan had ever met. Stanley simply got things done and knew everything; he was Henry Kissinger without the thick accent.

“Mr. President, thank you for seeing me.”

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting so long; I had urgent business to take care of this morning.”

“Yes, I saw your husband leaving. He told me I looked a bit pale and recommended a foundation, but I’ve quite forgotten the name; perhaps you could ask him about it later.”

“Um…foundation, sure thing.”

“Mr. President, I should point out…”

“What’s on your mind Stanley?”

“Whatever insults your own soul, and the very FLESH shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency–”

“What the hell are you talking about Stanley? Are you quoting Walt Whitman again? You know I’m a Keats man.”

“Forgive me sir; I do not know the correct reference, but I believe the expression is your barn door is open.”

President Bacon looks down a little embarrassed and zips his pants up.

“Very well, Mr Johnson. Was there anything else, or did you travel across town solely to keep my dignity in check a bit longer?”

Director Johnson seemed a bit startled at the question. Did President Bacon seriously think that was the reason for his visit? “No sir, Mr. President. That’s not the only reason I came-I mean, I also came to say… I only came to say–”

“Stan… may I call you Stan?”

“Um, yes, of course.”

“Stan, I don’t have time for games unless it’s Call of Duty.”

“My apologies, your honor,” Stanley stumbled as he was clearly ill prepared for the President’s humor.

“I’ve come today to discuss an urgent matter, sir.”

“Concerning?”

“Aliens, sir.”

Evan sat up in his chair as if possessed by a more serious person. His lips tighten against his teeth.

“Aliens? I see. Well as you’re aware, my primary concern during my campaign was illegal immigration. I swore to the American people that I’d finish Trump’s wall. During his visit to my state to oversee the project, I promised Trump himself that I’d finish it as he lie dying in my arms, when that Mexican construction worker fell off the wall and onto him. This is a matter near and dear to my heart.”

“Well, Mr. President, it seems after Trump’s unfortunate accident, illegals have been flooding in at record numbers. It is as if they believe this is their last chance before construction resumes. I’m afraid we have an added increase in the number of militant Islamic extremists we’ve encountered as well. They see the wave and they are riding it into the United States.”

“This is disconcerting; I have enough on my plate without a wave of aliens to contend with. Follow me to the war room, Director Johnson. I’ll introduce you to General Norm Usrodd. We need to get right on this.”

***

Rolling Stone’s columnist, Susan “Kitty” Catan is busy preparing for her exclusive interview with First Gentleman Mick Cage-Bacon.

“Everything has to be purrrfect,” she says nervously to her husband, Yukon.

“Relax,” he assures her. “You’ll do great.” He puts his large hand on top of hers, eclipsing it from view.

“This is the biggest interview of my career,” she adds. “This is my springboard. If this goes well, they’ll have to choose me for the field reporter spot at Fox. The biggest tool that bitch Carly Epps has in her box is her sex tape with Dan Rather.”

“Calm down, Kitty. You’ve got this.” Yukon slides behind her, wrapping her up in his arms and hunched over her shoulder, as to compare his massive head to hers in the steamed bathroom mirror.

“You’re the best interviewer on the planet. The job is as good as yours or my name isn’t Yukon Cornelius Catan.”

Kitty smiled for the first time that morning. With her hair down and still wet from the shower, Yukon was taken back to when they first met at the Olympics immediately following his gold medal dive. She was there to interview him, though he wasn’t keen on the idea. Interviews weren’t his thing. He hadn’t seen her before that day, but he couldn’t be missed. He was on every magazine cover that year, except for Rolling Stone. She was there to fix that. Before his dive, Susan walked in and she was extremely late. His was the final dive of the competition. She looked up at him and he was huge even from a distance; she was in awe. The room went silent and all eyes were fixed on him; no one was breathing. Susan lost herself and her footing.

“SHIT!”

Every eye in the room was called to the pool below, Yukon’s as well. He sprang instantly; the sound of the board drawing everyone’s attention back to him. He sank deep into the crystal clear water and found her like a sailor finds the cliffs when a siren calls. Almost out of the water as fast as she went in, Susan looked up at Yukon. Her hair was wet and her cheeks flushed from embarrassment, with a smile that made him forget they weren’t alone.

“Are you ok?” He asked in his deep tone that echoed in her chest.

“I could probably use some mouth to mouth.”

Yukon was in deep. And the water was purrrfect.

Kitty finished blow drying her hair and chose a conservative navy blue pant suit. She looked in the mirror. On the outside, she looked poised and confident, but on the inside she felt insecure.

This is my shot; this could really propel me to the next level, she thought.

Yukon kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand.

“I’m ready to go; it’s now or never.”

Kitty kissed Yukon one last time and left their penthouse apartment. She chose to have the interview at the Cherubim Cafe, a little place about a block from her apartment that served the best gourmet sandwiches. She wanted to meet there, rather than someplace she would have to drive her car, because D.C. traffic was the worst. She didn’t want to be late for this interview; she wanted everything to go smoothly.

A man bumped into Kitty and didn’t even say, excuse me, he was too absorbed in his phone. Kitty was annoyed, but she wasn’t going to let it bother her, because she was laser-focused on her interview.

It is just a self absorbed culture nowadays and people have forgotten basic manners, she thought.

She arrived at the Cherubim Café and looked at the time; she was ten minutes early. When she opened the door; it was crowded but the hostess, Becky recognized her right away and made her way toward her. She and Yukon were regulars at the café; they ate there a few times a week.

“He’s already waiting for you outside. We had to close off the outside dining area for security, which is why it’s so packed inside.

“Damn! He’s here already. Has he been waiting long?”

“No, but he had to get here early, so that Secret Service could scope the area out and make sure it was not a security risk for the first husband. Since it’s an enclosed area, with no large buildings nearby where a sniper could set up, they thought it would be fine. One time, George Bush Sr., after he was President came in here to have lunch and it was the same deal. It’s nice how presidents still get to have the Secret Service follow them around, even after they are out of office.”

Kitty gave her a curt nod. She didn’t have time for a long-winded discussion; the scoop of her career was waiting for her.

Kitty made her way outside and normally as a reporter, she always had her antenna up, alert to anything out of the ordinary, but today her antenna was not up, or she would have noticed that something seemed amiss. People were buried in their phones, more so than usual, because even couples were not chatting. Also, the T.V. was on in the kitchen, as if there was something important being said or…an important news story breaking.