Monday, October 11, 2004


Mr. Fix-It

I can't tell you how much I appreciate you making a house call at such short notice.

No problem. I still get around pretty good for a man of my age.

Our, uh, senior technial advisor is away on, um, an extended--business trip. And we just didn't know who else to turn to, to make the necessary adjustments.

Call me any time. You do have my card, don't you?

No, no thanks, no cards. I've got your contact information up here. No sense making things any easier than we have to for our enemies.

Right. I understand.

And you're sure you've fixed the problem? We really can't afford another incident like the other night, yelling at that poor bald man in the audience. He blows his top again and it could cost us the election.

My work is 100% guaranteed.

Excellent. Well ...

I'll be off.

Yes. By the way, I like your sandals.

Oh, you like these?

Those wings--that's like that Roman god guy, right? Mars or somebody?


That's right. Mercury. Haven't studied Roman mythology in decades! Where'd you get those? I might like to pick up a pair myself. Just to, you know, wear around the house. Lynne's always buying me these fleece-lined leather slippers that make my feet sweat like sonsabitches.

Oh, I've had these forever. I don't really remember where I got them, sorry.

No problem. So--

So thanks for calling me, Mr. Vice President--

Call me Dick.

Sure, Dick. Bye now. Call me if it--er, he--malfunctions again.

I will. Thanks.

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