Thursday, January 25, 2018


Brian Williams and Nicolle Wallace are having a moment in the NBC in-between-commercial-breaks break-room kitchenette. Chris Matthews walks in on them.

Matthews: can you believe the nerve of some bald people! that stupid gossip rag Fire and Fury is crushing me in Amazon sales and drone crashes! i'm no longer on the list! i spend all my life crafting this beautiful accounting of the man the myth the mercy of Robert Kennedy, the man who would not be President, the last colorblind economic Democrat, of the working people by the working people for the working people. well for the working people anyway. Robert Kennedy believed in true equality for all, not stagnant wages. he didn't want America to be great, he wanted it to be good.

Brian: yeah we know! we've heard your selling spiel for this thing a billion times on your show already! btw, a rag can't be hardcover.

Matthews: my book makes the perfect stocking-stuffer. for next Christmas. i can't tell you all the stories of people, ordinary people who come up to me at Barnes after a signing and breathe a sigh of relief on my big head, letting it all out, all their frustration out on me.

Brian: didn't Barnes go underwater? do you mind, buddy? i'm kinda in the middle of something here. you have a raging spirit, i have a raging boner.

Matthews: enraged spirit. why do you get a spread in the New York Times Magazine?

Nicolle makes a stern schoolmarm mouth.

Nicolle: cos i'm hot. i'm a milf. i'm one of the boys now. i got a big-boy butthole.

Matthews: why does a newspaper have a magazine? why does a newspaper need a magazine?

Brian: i can't take it anymore! that extra L in your name, it transforms you into a sorority girl! ravish me on this little food table!

Matthews: i see the way you guys lovey-dovey with your eyes when i'm a guest.

Brian: and so we have Mueller, attending the same private school as Kerry. hockey teammates on frozen ponds at Hogwarts. the fate of the republic in his small boy hands. this man isn't playing hockey anymore though he desperately wants to be. are you ready with your countdown? i've got mine.

Nicolle: we married the wrong people, didn't we, Brian. if only we had met sooner or later. let's just get it out of our systems. one fuck and then we return back to our sullen spouses. the deadweights around our necks. let's help each other take off our respective pink sweaters.

the two fuck like messy teenagers. Brian thrusts so hard against the butthole he splits the small plastic kitchenette table in two.

Brian: at least we shut him up for once.

Chris Matthews remains in shadow in the corner of the kitchenette. he watched the whole thing silently, hugging the microwave by his side.


at the park, Gladyce and Doryce take their usual seats.

Gladyce: what do you see?

Doryce: i liked the other bench better.

Gladyce: come on.

Doryce: okay. well there's a pile of that white ash where the lake should be. i don't know if it's more boring to bird-watch or people-watch.

Gladyce: okay then what do you hear?

Doryce: i miss the din of our town.

Gladyce: no you don't. don't do anything and just listen.

*5 minutes of uninterrupted silence*

Gladyce: what did you feel?

Doryce: you.

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