CELL PHONE NOISE
“Aw, Jesus. I thought they lost my number. Yeah, hello?”
“I have General Flynn on the line for Maggie Haberman.”
“General, I recognize your voice.”
“Yeah, you got me. I am just not great at fooling people. How’s my gal?”
“I am not your gal.”
“The world’s my gal tonight, Mag, and I’m gonna hump right on it. And this Black Label. She’s my gal, too. I’m celebrating, Mag! Why don’t you stop by? My son’s here and he’s single again.”
“Again?”
“Women can’t handle his love for country.”
“Mm-hmm. So, you’re gonna be a free man, huh?”
“Fingers crossed. I mean, the judge could still be Deep State. Or Jewish. Recommendation is just that, and we could get a free-lancer on the bench, probably installed by the Moor Obama.”
“Please don’t call President Obama a ‘Moor.'”
“See, this is the Political Correctness that’s ruining America that I had to save America from by betraying America.”
“What now?”
“Hey, how do you tell fentanyl from oxycodone?”
“I have no idea how you–”
“Fuck it.”
SHNAAAAAARF
…
“I ain’t dead, so it must have oxy. Mag, I’m telling you: I should go buy lottery tickets. Rolling straight 7’s today.”
“General–”
“This might be the moment to try out that autoerotic asphyxiation I’ve heard so much about.”
“Ew. So, how much did you tell Mueller to get such a beauty deal?”
“Everything! I told that freaky-chinned bastard everything. He got inside me, Mag.”
“Again: ew.”
“I told him about the Russians. I told him about the Turks. I told him about the Spanish.”
“The Spanish?”
“Yeah. I committed treason with Spain.”
“What? Why?”
“It was a fallow period for me, treason-wise. I took the job just to keep my eye in. Gotta stay sharp in the traitor business. Plus, I just love the lifestyle over there. Three hour naps, dinner at 11 pm, the lingering after-effects of fascist rule…I loved everything about it.”
“It’s a nice way to live.”
“And the tapas! You just nibble your way through the evening.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And their Spanish is more elegant than the way Mexicans speak it. Don’t tell the Mexicans I said that, though.”
“Why not?”
“I also committed treason for Mexico.”
“Jesus, man.”
“I may have become a little bit addicted to treasing, yes.”
“My God, you must have told Mueller a lot.”
“Oh, yeah. I was over there 19 times. 19 times. Until not too long ago, you didn’t meet your wife 19 times before you married her. Me and Biggie got tight.”
“Biggie?”
“That’s what I call Mueller. He calls me Pac.”
“Does he?”
“Mag, I wouldn’t expect a female to understand the complexities that make up the relationship between two men of arms, but we got close as shit. We were tight as a Mormon’s asshole. 19 times!”
“Yes, 19 times.”
“Who have you hung out with 19 times this year? Leaving out your family and coworkers. I mean: haaaaaaanging. Crack some beers, do a few lines, throw on Talledega Nights again. Shoot the shit, y’know?”
“Yeah, but the shit you were shooting was treason.”
“Treason, girl troubles, whatever. You don’t understand bros.”
“The recommendation did state that you were involved in some ongoing investigations.”
“Oh, yeah! Pac and Biggie are keeping the act together!”
“I’m happy for you.”
“I’m a regular over at that office. Got my own security badge and everything. I don’t knock! I just burst into the room like Kramer. Sometimes, I do a little funny walk, and that breaks everyone up. We’re kinda like–”
“Don’t say a family.”
“–a family over there. I’ve kipped out on their couch a whole bunch of times. Good guys.”
“Uh-huh. Just so I have this straight: you were actively conspiring with at least one foreign government while aiding a presidential campaign, and then while the National Security Advisor?”
“That doesn’t make me a bad guy.”
“It does.”
“That’s your opinion. And my boy Biggie’s opnion is that I’m awesome and he once told me that I have very pretty eyes. So, who do you think I’m going with here?”
“I’m sure you’ll choose the side which is most personally beneficial, General.”
“There you go. Hey, Mag, you ever hear the saying ‘In like Flynn?'”
DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT
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