Dick and Me

  

                                       DICK AND ME

   The Holiday season always makes me a bit nostalgic and this year led me back to Dick Cheney and our brief affinity in the late nineties. It was magic, just magic. Instant love. Shortly after we first met, Bubbles and I (I called him Bubbles) spent a weekend together at his insistence at the perfect getaway, Disney World, Orlando. We had such a good time that Dick invited his Tootsie Roll (he called me Tootsie Roll) for a long weekend at his time share condo at Disney’s Old Key West Resort. It sounded like a blast to me so I arranged to take some time off from my job at Lockheed Martin. Back then when we weren’t in each other’s arms, Dick and I would spend hours on the phone almost every day. We were finalizing plans of where we would meet, how we would get there and so on (at one point, Dick suggested we take a Disney cruise from New York to Miami!) when all of a sudden everything went dead. I was in Colorado and he was in DC and I didn’t hear from him for a couple of days. When I called him, there was no answer, nothing. Finally a maid picked up the phone and told me that someone had showed up at Dick’s door and the two of them had been inseparable ever since, someone by the name of Dubya.
   The one thing that pisses me off more than anything is betrayal so I definitely was not going to let this Dubya dip shit get away with running off with my Bubbles and making a fool of me to boot. I thought of a friend of mine I’d  worked with on Hellfire missile development at Lockheed who had recently joined the NSA. I helped him get through a nasty divorce and I was sure he would be glad to return the favor. I wasn’t interested in, how shall I say it, getting anything done to Dick and the little Jezebel. I just wanted to know what the hell happened. My friend was glad to oblige. You can imagine my shock when I was told not only were they planning to run off together, they were planning to run off with the country as well. My feelings for Dick notwithstanding, I just couldn’t imagine him at the helm of the greatest country on earth especially with a little shit for brains pile of potato peels at his side. That was when my friend showed me the photo of the two of them in a huge red Chevy convertible on their way to Disneyland Park. That’s right, Disneyland Anaheim, the original Disneyland, The Holy Grail.  The enigmatically attractive look of menacing thuggery that so often graced Dick’s face had warped into a demented sadistic mask and the hysterically crazed expression on his new pet's face was truly terrifying. The idea of the two of them getting anywhere near the White House shot a spear of ice up my spine. Thank God reality intervened. Let it go, I said to myself. You’ll never see either one of them again.