Campaign – Chapter 7
Campaign manager Katrina “Kate” Kindling is striving against all odds to get Senator Marcia Brute into the White House.
Chapter Seven – Dinner
Late night host Harry Philco is leaning drunkenly over the podium at the Correspondents Dinner as a raucous crowd thunderously guffaws at his goofs & one-liners.
“President Gall is so fat!”
Republican Presidential nominee Tony Flower dribbles bourbon down his chins between hearty chortles. “Uh oh, here we go, ha ha.” Flowers cups his hands to his mouth and hollers, “How fat is he?”
President Julius Gall, seated next to Philco, mutters under his breath, “I’m not even fat at all. I’m a normal-sized President.”
“When he sits around the White House,” Philco slurs. “He sits around the White House!”
Philco’s punchline brings the house down and people rise to their feet in applause.
Flowers campaign manager Alfred Luntz cranes his neck around the jubilant crowd to spy on his girlfriend/employee Emily Foxxx having her shoulder massaged and ear whispered into by film star Evan Evans.
“Who’s that guy.” Alf points and his ex-wife and campaign manager opponent Katrina Kindling who had been accidentally seated at the same table squints.
“Oh, that’s Unbeatable Man. From that The Hero Brigade blockbuster film franchise. Those pictures pull in $300 million a film because Bird Woman’s always showing her tits.”
“Unbeatable Man,” Alf scoffs. “Doesn’t look that unbeatable to me.”
Evans says something and Emily laughs so hard her breasts jiggle, despite being tightly tucked into a Giorgio Benevetti dress.
Alf looks away and smiles at Kate. “So, has Senator Brute spoken to Foster Vincent yet. I hear he’s fresh out of his coma and eager to spill the beans to the highest bidder on your boss trying to kill him in the 90’s.”
Kate lights a cigarette before realizing she’s still indoors and butts it out in Alf’s champagne flute. “The 90’s were a crazy time, Alf. You know that as much as I do, if not more so.”
“Is that why Brute’s ducking all these cameras tonight.”
“I will have you know she has flu-like symptoms.”
Alf nods skeptically, “Like Michael Jordan.”
Emily joins Alf at their table, face flush and frowns, “The crying guy?”
Alf picks at his plate, not looking up, “Yes dear, the crying guy.”
The awkwardness is interrupted by a commotion back at Evan Evans’ table.
“That’s my girl, bro!” Flowers staffer and Emily Foxxx’s boyfriend Roscoe Jones hollers.
“Which one, bro!” Evans puffs his chest into Roscoe’s before Roscoe quickly dispatches him to the floor with one punch.
Emily claps a hand over her mouth, as Alf looks on smugly.
“Isn’t that one of your people, Alf,” Kate asks, sipping her champagne.
“Not so unbeatable after all,” Alf smirks at Emily.
Kate grabs two more glasses of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray. “I love the Correspondents Dinner.”
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