Advice on the Debate

 By Martin Green

__________________

I was at home trying to finish the frigging New York Times crossword puzzle when the telephone rang.

“Yeah?  Oh, hiya, George. Yeah, I saw it. You’re right, you were pitiful. Sure, you should have called me before. Okay, here’s what you do. You wait until that prick really insults you, then you go over to him and say, ‘Look, you Boston bozo, I’m the frigging president of the frigging United States. Now apologize, you stupid son-of-a-bitch.’ Right. Don’t worry about that. Okay, then you kick the sucker in the balls. That’ll show that pansy who’s tough. Yeah, you can count on it, especially the women. Okay, good-bye. And fer Chrissake, when you’re not talking, try not to look as if you’re constipated. Yeah, snarl and bang your fist into your hand. Okay, good luck.”

I turned back to the frigging puzzle. What’s the French for eraser? How the hell should I know? The phone rang again.

“Yeah? Oh, hiya, John. Yeah, I saw it. Not a bad job but it’s not over yet. Okay, here’s what you do. You wait until that, I mean the President, insults you, then you go over and say,  “Apologize, you miserable slacker, or I’ll kick your ass.’ No, don’t worry about that. Then you kick him in the balls. What the hell, you want to show how frigging tough you are, right? Then do it. And you don’t have to keep saying you went to Vietnam, everyone knows it. Okay, good luck.”

Geez, how the hell am I ever going to get this frigging puzzle done? I better turn the phone off. Ah, the hell with it. I’m going to bed. When’s the next frigging debate?