Health Scare

Shortly after the health care summit, President Obama returns to the White House. He stomps into the Oval Office, slamming the door behind him. On the other side of the door, a loud thump and a groan are heard. The door opens slowly, and Rahm Emanuel gingerly pokes his head in. He enters the office – neatly executing a petit jeté, en avant - and is followed by David Axelrod, who is holding his head back, having applied a handkerchief to his bleeding nose. Obama throws a file on his desk, pulls a cigarette from the pack of Virginia Slims in his shirt pocket, and lights up.

Obama: What the hell just happened?

Axelrod [in a thin voice]: You just slammed the door in my face. Mr. President.

Obama: No, no, no! I don’t mean your nose – sorry about that, by the way – I mean what the hell happened back there at the health care meeting with those Republican senators? This was supposed to be a walkover, like the meeting with those morons from the House, but these guys came to play! And who have I got on my side? Freakin’ Harry Reid! Guy looks like something made out of clay by a ten-thumbed second-grader his first time in pottery class, plus every time he opens his mouth he pisses somebody off. Hell, he pisses me off just talking about the weather. So, what’s the damage?

Axelrod: Well, sir, I think the cartilage is still intact…

Obama: I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT YOUR NOSE, AXELROD!! I am talking about the damage to our plans to pass a health care bill. Rahm, stop doing that!

Emanuel [Performing a grand battement ]: Sorry, Mr. President, but you know when I’m all keyed up, I involuntarily start doing my old ballet moves. Besides, it helps keep me from swearing so much.

Obama: So, swear, already!

Emanuel: F****in’ A! Look, the problem is, this whole health care thing was too much, too soon, especially in the middle of a f***in’ recession. Now all these g** d***** blue dogs are scared of being bounced off the f****in’ gravy train next election, and the c**********s…

Obama [Holds up a commanding hand]: On second thought, go back to your ballet moves. What’s the prognosis for my health care bill after today’s disaster?

Emanuel[Commences a series of bourrées, while fluttering his arms like the wings of a large bird – a large bird with five o’clock shadow - then sinks to one knee]

Obama: Say, isn’t that…the Dying Swan? Damn! That bad, eh?

Axelrod [Speaking from within the increasingly red cotton tent over his nose]: There’s still reconciliation, sir.

Obama: Please! Do you really think all those moderates from red states are going to fall on their swords for health care? Pelosi’s not only crazy, she’s an idiot if she believes that.

Axelrod: Maybe we can pin the defeat on the teabaggers.

Obama: Have you seen their numbers? They’re practically a majority out there, now. And dude, you’re bleeding on my carpet - right on the freakin’ presidential seal!! Michelle’s already been giving me hell for the cigarette burns. Go wring your mustache out in the waste basket, will you? And you’d better put some ice on that. No, I’m afraid we’re going to have to scale back the bill - substantially. What do you think will fly, Rahm?

Emanuel: At this point, maybe we just cut a deal with Kellogg’s to include a bottle of aspirin in every box of corn flakes.

Obama: Hmm. Yeah, maybe we can spin that as a bipartisan compromise. And it’s kinda like universal health care; I mean, everybody eats corn flakes, right? Say, how about this: in addition to corn flakes, we get Domino’s to incorporate aspirin as a basic topping for their pizzas.

Rahm: Hey, that’s why they pay you the big bucks, Mr. President! Another great idea! Just like…like…well, just like all the other great ideas you’ve had your first year in office.

[Suddenly, David Axelrod – looking very pale – drops to the floor like a sack of mulch.]

Obama [With an exasperated sigh]: Rahm, have a couple of social security men come in here and haul Axelrod’s remains to the infirmary.

Emanuel: You mean Secret Service men, sir.

Obama: Yeah, whatever; the squares in the dark suits with guns. Axelrod’s looking a couple of quarts low.