Saturday, October 16, 2004
Bill O'Reilly's Surprise Guest
"Five minutes to air, Bill," Peter's voice comes over the headset.
"Is, uh, DeLay here yet?" O'Reilly asks.
"Well," Peter says, "there's a tiny little problem there."
"What fucking problem?" O'Reilly yells. A feedback squeak zips around the room.
"His, uh," Peter says, "his office can't find him."
"Can't find him! Can't fucking find him! What do we pay you for? Why aren't you out on the fucking street looking for him, you lazy no-good liberal son of a bitch! I'll rip your arms off! I'll--"
"But," Peter inserts smoothly, who had grown wearily accustomed to this sort of abuse from his boss long before the conservative pundit had come out as an insect from outer space, "we do have a guest for you."
"Tell me it's that pipsqueak fascist Machiavellian dildo Karl Rove," O'Reilly says, loudly, but no longer angrily, "and I'll personally shove him up your tired old fagged-out ass."
"No," Peter says, "it's not that pipsqueak fascist Machiavellian dildo Karl Rove. It's--"
But he didn't have time to say the name before everybody heard the clop-clop-clop of the ex-president's devil-water-cow Bessie entering the Praying Mantis Factor studio. She was soaking wet, as usual, of course--they lived, as the whole world now knew, at the bottom of Turtle Pond in Central Park--and a whole school of live fish flopped in alongside her. And riding her, of course, was--
"Abraham fucking Lincoln!" O'Reilly gasps.
"None other," Lincoln smiles, already miked.
"You're on the air," Peter says.
