WHITE HOUSE CALLS
Once upon a time, the
twins--I mean the White House twins call me in the midst of the night. Seems there's an emergency break-down at 1600 PA Avenue--And this isn't the hot water heater we're talking about. I drive my 
there immediately and park it at the curb and dash up the well-manicured White House keep-off-the-grass lawn. I ring the White House doorbell and Karl Rove answers the gargantuan White House door and bids me to step inside."Doc," he claims defensively as though I just presented him a subpeona for Grand Jury investigation, "I'm
" I nod and tell him that I understand, but inquire where was this patient of mine when the
--I mean the 
Bush twins appear."Oh Doc," they drawl, "Mama's dumped Daddy and moved into the Crawford ranch with a yuck-yuck-yucky DEMOCRAT and Daddy's just not been himself." Twin Barbara adds, "
" and "
," remarks Twin Jen. I remind them how life is 
and I step into the Lincoln Bedroom, otherwise known as the White House
to see their Dad."He was walking in circles in the Oval Office trying to find a squared-off corner," offers Cheney, "and I told him not to worry those latest Opinion Polls cause afterall,
and then I teased him by saying something like 
, Mr. President...And then he trembled and seemed to fall apart before my eyes, but he knows I only tease him about being Mr. President and it's probably best the public believes 
. since that hunting "accident" months back, hehehe.. Anyway, I can't seem to get him out of this slump he's been in. 
on every twinkle-twinkling little 
, but it isn't helping, Doc." Truth be known, I was paying little attention to Cheney but going to the Lincoln Bedroom bedside of the President instead. "What's up, W?" I ask him, pronouncing "W" as "Dubya" cause that's how W likes to be called and I notice that the President appeared to be semi-
."How dare you
!!!" growls W, "Can't you see 
??? And besides, 
!!!"Needless to say, W is especially depressed--(meaning bad-tempered) tonight, so I give him a shot of truth serum in order to determine the root of his problem in order that I might diagnosis his prognosis, or prognosis his diagnosis or at least
The truth serum kicks in quickly, and W suddenly becomes a rambling slur and stutter of words--(Well, "suddenly" only insofar as the rambling goes. He's been slurring and stuttering since he guzzled his way through college years-ago)."
," he begins. "Everyone hates me, even my Dad who was President, too. 
""
," I respond. "I have some special Happy-Pills for you, W, 
. They'll work wonders if you're not --I mean completely insane." And as a side note, as physician to the Bush family for years, forget anything of medical care--
Well, W swallows down half a vial of the Happy-Pills with a triple-shotted vodka-martini happily and soon a brand-new and improved W begins to emerge. He is deeper, appears more meditative/medicative--(medicated and drunk) and is beginning to look at things more philosophically...
"
" he questions himself, "So what if 
or so what if 
life? Who cares that I told Laura 
at AllPoetry and that's why she left me for that other AllPoetry poet-guy. I knew she liked his lame duck-metaphor poetry a bit too much for my liking. I'm a Poet AND a President too, y'all know--That's how I got to name myself U.S. Poet Laureate...hehehe. That's why I'm such a slob when it comes to rolling my socks and panties into a ball and tossing them under the Red Bedroom bed--Or is it the Blue Bedroom bed? Well, anyway, it's only because I'm a 
, and a 
, 
--I'm just 
."
"
" he questions himself, "So what if or so what if life? Who cares that I told Laura at AllPoetry and that's why she left me for that other AllPoetry poet-guy. I knew she liked his lame duck-metaphor poetry a bit too much for my liking. I'm a Poet AND a President too, y'all know--That's how I got to name myself U.S. Poet Laureate...hehehe. That's why I'm such a slob when it comes to rolling my socks and panties into a ball and tossing them under the Red Bedroom bed--Or is it the Blue Bedroom bed? Well, anyway, it's only because I'm a , and a , --I'm just ."Well, this rambling from W goes on and on until the wee hours of morning when he finally tires himself out by reciting me his poem titled "Nuclear" but pronounced "New-Q-Ler" and topped by a glowing critique of his poem and himself and
when finally he turns and says to me, "
, Doc, these Happy-Pills that you overdosed me, and 
But for now I'm tarred," which in Teckshush-Talk means "tired" and he goes on "But 
cause there's 
. So, thanks Doc, 
and 
" And W then snoozes and snores off to a sound sleep...
And as I step from the White House 7:00 AM EST that morning and drive home in my , I realize as did Laura Bush that it's probably true that 
and I'm left wondering just
, I realize as did Laura Bush that it's probably true that and I'm left wondering just THE END
(1/28/07)
(1/28/07)
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