Okay, Cranky Prof, you brought this down from a bitch's twisted mind...
Note to newish readers – a bitch is a firm believer in dream based correction. The following is a dream-based exploration…as in my dreams…as in not real. If you have issues with man on man spanking, chains…umm, pissed off Polar Bears…err, yeah…ummm, stuff like that you may not want to proceed (wink).
ABB’s Dream-based exploration of the past 48 hours…
A bitch slipped into slumber last night after hearing news of a certain Scooter B.’s hectic 48 hours of work…hard work…meetings and such followed by plane trips. So, of course, a bitch dreamed a little dream about that shit…
Eyes darting nervously back and forth, Scooter B. sat behind his desk. His stomach churned…his pulse raced...anxiety was in high gear.
Rove was off the hook…free from the potential and probing clutches of Fitz.
Oh Gawd…Scooter B. indulged in a sob…Rove is going be so angry! Jesus, this is almost as bad as facing Mother’s wrath…almost.
Wiping his blood shot eyes, Scooter B. rose and quickly checked the lock on the door.
Eyes closed he took a deep breath. All was well, everything was cool…altitude maintained.
Rove would just have to understand that Scooter B. did things differently…being a decider and all. So, things changed…like polls, the ability to spin complete failures as massive successes, the ability to rally the masses behind distracting wedge issues like gay marriage. Yeah, things were different because decisions were made…by The Decider!
Fucking polls. Who the heck follows them anyway. Scooter B. spat on the floor, his mouth bitterly twisted.
Shit, did it even matter? This presidential shit should be as worry free as guard duty was back in the day.
A chill suddenly swept the room followed by the foul and powerful stench of rotting flesh. Scooter B. grabbed the door knob, his palms wet and attempted to turn it…
“Cease, you fucking coward! Turn and face your master.” a voice whispered softly.
Slowly Scooter B. turned towards the voice and, coming face to face with the newly sorta-exonerated Rove, he fainted away.
“Wake up, you fucking idiot! Get the hell up and face the music!” Rove harshly commanded while viciously slapping Scooter B’s cheeks.
“Stop.” Scooter said weakly. “For the love of Gawd, please stop hitting my ass!”
Opening his eyes, Scooter found himself tied and bound facing a cold damp stone wall. I must be in the bowels of the White House…in the dungeon…he thought. Oh no, no one will ever find me here.
“Mother!” he sobbed. “Mother, please!”
“Listen and nod when you understand. You will fix this mess. I will help you. You will convene a War Council…they will give you advice…you will pretend to take it and make sure the media sees you looking receptive.” Rove softly directed.
“NO! I’m The Decider! No one tells me what to…”
“Fine! Just stop hitting me! Okay…okay, okay…will do. Got it.” Scooter said breathlessly.
“Good. To continue, you will then take a trip to Iraq to demonstrate that it is not so bad there and that you are committed.”
“Hell, no! That place is dangerous as a motherfucker! No!”
“Ugh…oh Mother, please save me!" Scooter sobbed.
“Okay! Damn you. Okay…okay, okay…got it. I’m going to Iraq to meet with…umm, Iraqi people.” He gasped.
Satisfied, Rove left Scooter B. to make the arrangements. If all went well, things could be set back to rights just in time for November. This bullshit wouldn’t hold on its own, but with the tried and true wedge issues in play they might stand a chance.
Yeah, Rove thought smugly, give the base a social issue and they got for it every time. By the time they clue in, I’ll be sitting pretty in my villa on a fat assed lockbox full of green backs sipping Martinis and talking trash.
Suddenly Rove caught a blur out of the corner of his eye.
“Wha…” he began only to be struck down by the massive Polar Bear that launched itself at him.
“How do you feel about global warming now, motherfucker.” The bear snarled (shit, it’s my dream…go get ‘em, Polar Bear!) and then proceeded to feast upon Rove.
"Compassionate conservative, my Polar Bear ass!" the bear muttered, then spit out a portion of Rove’s ear. "Gawd, you taste like a hypocritical, bigoted, egotistical misogynist!"
"Give me my habitat back, you Earth destroying motherfucker!" The Polar Bear rose up and prepared to pounce. Wwith a fierce growl she lunged and…
A bitch woke up in a flash.
Talk about inconvenient truth (wink)...