“That’s it… This sumbitch is really startin’ ta push my buttons.”
President Bush’s aides fidgeted nervously, as he paced the Oval Office.
“What the hell did I ever do t’him? Huh? I want someone checkin’ out his family… see if we’ve killed ‘r imprisoned any of his cousins, ‘r his favorite moose… mebbe Jeb shot a beaver he took a fancy to.”
He glared at his top aide, and enunciated to the best of his ability, “I. Want. To. Know. What. His. Problem. Is. Do you unnerstand me?”
His aide, Michael, tried to keep his eyes on his boss’ eyes, “Yes, Mr. President. The investigation will be underway…” he glanced at his watch, “…by thirteen hundred hours, sir. I guarantee it.”
Bush looked at the clock, looked at his watch, closed his eyes, and seemed to be considering something.
“That’s… three? Three hours? Three hours. Get on it, then. An’ I don’t want any sloppy work. Find out what his problem is. And do it, quick. Y’all’re dismissed.”
Bush picked up his phone as his aides were walking out the door, he cleared his throat, “ahem… uhm… Mr. Ashcroft?”
Michael closed the door behind him.