Ashcroft Fires Me Again

This morning I had a long breakfast with my mother, who, at 114 years of age, fell asleep often during the conversation. She is a liberal democrat beginning to show signs of old age, so I was forced to bring all conversation threads back to the core values of strength, freedom, and pride in America. When I arrived late at the White House, Ashcroft awaited me inside the security gate. He checked his watch nervously. Bad news. Here we go again.

"Good morning, Gardner," said Ashcroft. "Or should I say 'good afternoon'?"

"Good morning, Ashcroft." My tone acknowledged the bitter enmity between us.

"I need your help again. Same rules. I hear a peep out of you and you're history. Got it?"

"What do you need this time?"

"I've been watching myself on television, and I look, well, uncomfortable. The congressional hearings were my chance to shine in front of the whole world, but the press say I came across as smug and edgy."

"Do you want me to loosen the barbed wire around your chest?"

"I need you to change the whole arrangement. If I double up the hair-shirt undergarment, and then wrap the barbed wire more loosely around that, I think I can avoid looking pale and lascivious."

On the way to the shed, there was an uncomfortable silence. I wanted to talk about the weather or the Detroit Pistons, or maybe ask him why he doesn't just wear cotton garments, but Ashcroft is no one with whom to trifle. He broke the silence.

"I touched myself — there — again."

Same old thing. I refitted him in the shed, he cried and hugged me, and then told me to pack up my belongings because I was fired.