Two men sit in a booth in a dimly lit restaurant. One man is a newspaper reporter, the other is an FBI agent.
Okay, the tape’s rolling. So how did you find yourself surveilling the hotel room in Phoenix?
One of our men was meeting with a big-time American dealer. Our agent was posing as a Mexican drug baron looking to unload an enormous quantity of coke. The dealer was this dirtbag who sold to kids in the Tuscon area. We’d been trying to nab him for two years.
So you’re monitoring the room from the one next door and…
The door squeaks open and I look over at my partner and I say “Okay, game time, were on.” I put on my headphones and look into the monitors – we’ve got four cameras plus audio – and all of a sudden I’m like what the fuck?…
It’s not your people?
Yeah that, plus the pair entering the room are celebrities. We’re talking public figures, big time politicians to be exact.
How big time?
Like you couldn’t get any-fucking-bigger big time. This wasn’t some school board meeting.
Can you name them?
Are you kidding? I might work for the government but I’m not stupid. I spill names, I’ll end up with sewn down eyelids and a coffin. I’m just giving you a starting point here. You’re the journalist.
Okay, can you at least describe them?
Yeah. The guy was this old codger with a ridiculous combover. One cheek was puffed out like he was a squirrel collecting nuts for the winter. Walked with a small limp. At first I thought the woman with him was some high-priced call girl or a TV anchor, the way she was dressed. But then I recognized her as a rising conservative star. She’s wearing this tight red dress and is manicured beyond belief with shiny lip gloss. She’s also wearing these small, square glasses with no rims.
So what happened next?
Well, the woman went into the bathroom and the geezer started fiddling with this big suitcase he was carrying. He gets it open and drags out five racks made out of bamboo poles connected by wire. He snaps the pieces together into what appears to be a cage. Then he takes off his clothes, sits down on the floor, and lowers the cage over himself.
He’s thinking inside the box.
No doubt. So the bathroom door opens and the woman comes out. She’s still dressed the same, but now she’s drowning in eye shadow and wearing these monstrous heels. She walks over to the geezer’s suitcase, reaches down, and hits a button on a small boom box. The machine starts playing If You Think I’m Sexy.
So now you’ve got your own burlesque show.
More like comedy show. Anyway, the woman breaks into this slow, grinding tease while the codger stares with anticipation through the bars of his cage. This goes on for about three minutes. Funny thing is, the woman gets down to wearing only heels but the guy’s still as limp as the housing market.
Why do you think that was?
No idea. Maybe because she kept saying “You betcha.” So the woman digs into the suitcase and grabs a packet of something. She rips it open with her teeth and pours a few pills onto a table. Then she leans over and starts crushing up the pills with this huge wedding ring. Mind you, she’s still swinging her ass while she works, trying to keep the heat up.
All of a sudden the guy lets out a yell, casts the cage off Conan-style, and bounds up to the table. He yells “Outta the way bitch!” and presses a finger to his nose. Then he leans down and snorts the line.
Did the drug work?
Let me put it this way. After what happened next I went out and bought Chiagra stock. Pure magic. Get this – the guy lines up behind the woman and starts going for it. She reaches out and squeezes a bible with one hand and a Mr Coffee with the other. Things heat up into this fevered thrashing and the geezer’s pouring out sweat like a flash flood. Then he lets out a grunt, thrusts his hips, and the glasses literally fly off the woman’s face. She gasps, rears her head back, and screams “Drill baby, drill!”
Jesus.
And then, bam, it’s over. The two separate from each other like nothing happened, stroll over to their clothes, and re-dress. Then they sit on a couch and stare at the wall across the room. She starts gibbering something about why the constitution should be replaced by the bible. Before she’s even done the geezer starts into this lecture about how we could have won in Vietnam if everyone cared more about America. It was bizarre, the two of them in their separate little wacko-worlds. It was like they couldn’t give two shits about each other.
What did you do then?
Well, at first I sat there thinking that if either of these two ever get more power than they have now, we are screwed. Like, time-to-emigrate screwed.
So the geezer stands up, mutters something about having to give a speech about “goddamned immigrants”, and rambles out of the room. No “thanks, that was great” or “see ya”, he just leaves. The woman spends five minutes primping her hair and then follows him.
Crap, I need to get back to work.
One last question. What’s Chiagra?
It’s this Chinese Viagra knockoff. My partner zoomed the camera in when the lady was chopping up the pills. He saw the label. I’ll tell ya, the stuff’s amazing. Get this – when the geezer walked out of the room I noticed a tent in his pants. Fifteen minutes after the first round and he’s ready to go again! Amazing. By the way, I caught a video of his immigration speech. It was ninety-eight degrees outside and he’s up on stage wearing a trench coat.
That alone should make it obvious why I had to contact you.
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Thomas Sullivan‘s writing has appeared in Word Riot and 3AM Magazine, among others. He is the author of Life In The Slow Lane, a comic memoir about teaching drivers education. For info on this title, and to view more of Thomas’ writing, please visit his author website at http://thomassullivanhumor.com.
