Fiction Friday #21

NaNoWriMo Part 4

Didn't get much done this week and what was done is sort of muddled, incomplete sentences and all.

Hell, on the other hand, was what her pre-flight pit stop was supposed to take care of. She got air sick. Not the simple air sick of the movies where a person vomits once into a bag and goes on with the flight, no, she got air sick like most people got sea sick. She started getting queasy when she felt the engines start up. By the time they were barely off the ground, she'd thrown up at least once.

Dramamine.


TV Time

Click --

"The nation is stunned this morning after a shocking speech given by the president yesterday afternoon in which he blamed the people of America for the problems he's been experiencing as president. We go live to Breanne Vanhoose who's in Washington now. Breanne?"

"I'm standing across from the White House on one of the most famous streets in America. But instead of the majestic mansion that's stood for hundreds of years, you'll see only protesters. They're here to voice their anger with the president and the words he spoke yesterday.

"I spoke with a few of the protesters earlier and asked if they knew that the President had gone home for the holiday and all said it didn't matter, they'd be here every day until he came back after the new --"

Click --

"-- the most brilliant thing he's done since he was elected. He's energized the base like no person since Martin Luther King Junior. They're all talking about what he said. They all have an opinion. They all --"

Click --

"-- idiotic move on his part. He's ruined the chances of his party during the next national elections. They're going to loose every seat they gained..."

"Are you suggesting that they made gains in the last election? Because I don't remember that. In fact, I think that President Gandbuth actually brought in up in his statment yesterday


Finishing School, or At Least the Quarter

Gretchen had only one more final and then her first quarter at college would be finished. The final was on a Saturday, though. She wanted to take the person who thought having the last final on a Saturday at three PM, drag him by his short curlies into the quad and let all the students who have ever had a Saturday final give him paper cuts and then pour lemon juice on his bleeding carcas.


Having her two Secret Service agents on campus was annoying, but managable. They lived together in the room next door and, along with Gretchen, shared the bathroom with everyone else on the floor. The Service tried to get her into a building that had suites set up, but her dad insisted that she have a real college experience by sharing her showers and toilettes with sixty other people.

On occasion, she had to attend special school functions and be paraded before the alumni, or parents of alumni, who had money so they'd give the school more. When she didn't want to attend those sorts of things, the president or dean or whoever was quick to remind her of all the compromises the school had to make just to get her Secret Service people into the dorm and wouldn't she like to help repay what would eventually be her alma mater?


At the moment, she was waiting for her father to show up for lunch. The were going to Sophia's for Thai


"Mom here?" she asked, but she already knew the answer.

"Nope, just me," he said, hands in his pockets, strolling toward her.

"Studio?"

"Studio. That okay?" He stopped walking right in front of her.

"It's expected."

"But is it okay?" He took his hands out of his pockets.

"Yeah," she said, pushing her hair out of her eyes and watching a bird start flying behind her dad just with her eyes, "I think it's okay."

"Good." He smiled, his warm, safe smile, one he didn't use on the campagin trail, but saved only for her, and hugged her.

"Hey, Dad." She hugged him back.

"Hey, Gretch."

When they finished, she put her arm though his and they headed off toward lunch.

"So, I caught you're speech on the internet."

He smiled again, "What did you think?"

"It was funny."

"You think?"

"Yeah. So, what's happening now?"

"Larry King called. He said he wanted to go live tonight. Do a special show focusing just on me, like when I was running for President, but this time the softballs the lobbed to me would actually be about the issues instead of that shameful Flock of Seagulls haircut I had when I was a kid."

"And?"

"I told him until I saw him and Ted Turner in a 69, complete with the messy ending, I wouldn't even consider his offer."

Gretchen laughed, "When's the show?"

"Oddly enough, he said no to that, so I suggested the two of them feltching."

Gretchen laughed again.

"He didn't know what that was, so I told him to Google it and be sure to check out some of the pictures and when he was through to get in touch with me." Her dad chuckled. "He hasn't gotten back to me, so far."