|After the Inauguration (standard:humor, 2083 words)|
|Author: hvysmker||Added: Jan 27 2009||Views/Reads: 2083/1195||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Oscar Rat and his buddies, Georgie and Dickie, head for a bar.|
Jeeze, I force one eye open, like prying the top off a beer bottle with my teeth. It don't wanna open. That must have been some night, I think. Turning my muzzle to the right I see a human hand, clasped in a fist, a shotgun shell between the fingers. I recognize it as my pal, Dickie's. Yeah, I remember, he was showing me and Georgie how to speedload his sawed-off office gun. He took it with him when he left the White House. After the inauguration, which I attended wrapped in a hanky in Dickie's coat pocket as protection from the cold, the three of us took off for a cheap hotel. We planned on a monumental drunk. Georgie told his Secret Service guards some bullcrap about needing to check one of his desk drawers and we snuck out one of the secret entrances from the Oval Office. It lead to Dickie's basement firing range, where the former head of vice picked up the sawed-off weapon. Then, the two of them put scruffy overalls over their tuxedos and, carrying small tools, we grabbed a taxi and headed for town, where Dickie had his car hidden. I don't know what they told their wives. None of my business. My business was, though, helping them soak up booze. And we certainly did. We took Dickie's car. It seems Georgie forgot how to drive one. He hadn't needed to do it since in his teens. There were always flunkies around to do it for him. So, there we were, two unhappy humans and one rat, hitting the strip. "I haven't done this for a long time, Oscar. Where's a good place?" Georgie asked, checking traffic behind us. Those Secret Service guys can be sneaky. Almost as sneaky as my companions. "I know plenty of places for rodents, but I stay away from human bars, guys," I tell them from my seat on the dashboard, one front paw clasping the ventilation slot under the windshield. "When I'm drunk, it's too easy to get squashed. I know one that's large enough, if you like squirrel hookers." "Na. We prefer human girls, preferably with big hooters," Georgie said from the back seat. He'd been in the front for awhile but, since he was playing at being a jet pilot, Dickie had sent him to the back where he could whoop and wave his arms around without causing an accident. We wandered around Washington for awhile. Georgie was afraid of the black residents, so he insisted Dickie drive on only the busiest, widest, and best-lit streets. That made Dickie mad, cause he had his shotgun and, without those nosy SS guys around, could finally use it. The former VP was itching to find a crime in progress, figuring he could blow some crooks away. "I need something, anything, to help my image," he told us, "like being a crime-fighting super-hero." "Most Republicans think you are," I reminded him, peering out at lighted buildings along the street. "Hey! Pull over. I see something you might like." With a squeal of brakes, Dickie jerked across two lanes of traffic, to stop alongside a fire-hydrant. "How's that, Oscar? Not bad after eight years of being chauffeured around." I heard "swooosh, beep, beep, rooooorrr," from the backseat as Georgie brought his imaginary jet fighter in for a landing. Lately, since even his staff has been ignoringor spitting at him, he spends a lot of time in LaaLaa land. Since his authority has been waining lately, even Condi won't let him pet her on the butt anymore. I jumped into the comfort of Dickie's pocket as he grabbed his trusty blunderbuss and the two left the car. "Shouldn't you pull up a bit, away from the hydrant," I yelled to my host. "You'll get a ticket." Click here to read the rest of this story (190 more lines)
Authors appreciate feedback!
Please write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
hvysmker has 39 active stories on this site.
Profile for hvysmker, incl. all stories