Friday, January 18, 2008

Springtime in Paraguay

Blog doc 14: A Short Story from the White House Basement
A Telling Conversation Between Two Maintenance Men

“Wow Bill! Who’s that guy?” Larry asked as the man in gray coveralls left the room.

“Oh, he’s the Blackwater guy who’s in charge of room 30, here. You don’t need to worry about him that much. He only shows up here once in a blue to moon to be a jerk and try to scare us. The rest of the time he spends in the private BW Lounge out on Corridor B.” Bill responded easily.

“Gosh, it seems like he just some kind of janitor with an automatic rifle and an real bad attitude. I guess he’s in charge of this warehouse, right?” Larry asked.

“Yeah. You musta’ got the cleaning order from our supervisor. Did you bring all the floor stuff. Nobody ever can even get into this room, much less make a mess of it, but when they want the floor mopped, they want the floor mopped.” Bill explained.

“Wow, Bill, what is all this stuff? Every box has a number on it. What do you suppose is in all them wooden crates over on that side, anyway?” Larry asked, looking over the contents of the dim storage room.

“Pay attention to yourself. See all those cameras? They can see every move you make. Don’t ever, like, write anything down on paper or you’ll be talkin’ to those Blackwater boys in a heartbeat. The whole reason we’re here is 'cause they figure we’re stupid. Anyway, I’m pretty sure that they can’t hear us.” Bill held up his hand in a caution signal to the younger worker.

“So. What is this warehouse for, anyway?” The younger man looked to the more experienced worker, now sitting on a crate.

“This is all the stuff they plan to fly into Paraguay after the election. It’s all stuff the Vice President got for, you know, favors and payoffs and stuff. Them boxes are full of loot. That’s why all the cameras. Heh, heh, heh, I guess they just wanna’ make sure it only gets stolen once!” Bill offered casually.

“Right. So What exactly are we doin’ to this floor?” Larry spoke, not a little intimidated by his surroundings.

“See right over there. You got two big rows of wooden crates stacked three high. We’re not movin’ those babies, they’re full of gold ingots. This other row of wood crates right over here are full of AK’s and ammo. They’re all okay right where they are. But right back there, see, by the door is where they came and took out a bunch of boxes. Them boxes were all full of cash, and they sent ‘em to Europe somewhere and traded ‘em out for those other boxes over there full of Euros.” Bill explained nonchalantly.

“You mean the Vice President is trading in his cash for Euros?” the younger man asked incredulously.

“Oh yeah, but just them boxes over there. I guess the rest of these in this row are full of US cash he’s plannin’ to keep, you know, plannin’ to take with him. I figure they didn’t plan on the economy tanking quite so soon before the election. I suppose they thought they could just ride it out until they moved on to their new place. You gotta remember, once him and the Pres are in Paraguay they ain’t goin’ to be able to leave, what with the World Court and everything, prowlin’ around like they do. Ever hear of a guy named Mengele?” Bill shared the authority of the hearsay traveling around the building.

“Yeah, I think so. Wasn’t he some kind of Russian or somethin’?” Larry answered, puzzled.

“Nah, Mengele was the old Nazi ‘Doctor Death’ guy. He was the one them Israelis snatched somewhere in South America, can’t remember the name of the town. They were pissed. They hauled him out somewhere and hung him. Had a trial and everything. You can bet your bottom dollar that this pair ain’t goin’ risk anything like that!” the older man exclaimed, chuckling.

“I guess that’s what all the guns are for, right?” Larry offered.

“Yeah, I guess. I’m sure they got some kind of a deal cooked up with the Dictator down there, but AK’s are always more dependable than any kind of deal they could make.” Bill continued in the role of seasoned expert.

“So the Veep is plannin’ on takin’ a crew of Blackwaters with him? How are they gonna move all this stuff and all those people from here to Paraguay?” Larry pondered.

“Oh, there’s no problem there. Mario, you know the older guy that cleans up in State, told me there’s a couple of Saudi jet liners hid away somewhere in Canada waitin’ to take ‘em. There’d be plenty of room on one of those babies for all this stuff with seats left over for a gun crew. I betcha’ them planes are nothin’ if they ain’t plush as hell!” Bill responded.

“Watch out now. All them crates in this row are full of a complete cardiac operating room and pace makers and stuff. You know, Cheney’s meds. Good thing that water didn’t drip this far over or there’d be hell to pay. I, for one, would not like to be on the receiving end of “Shooter” when he’s pissed!” he added.

“All that stain over there is where they took out them boxes of cash. You need to mop it all out and dry it up good, then buff it back down. We wanna’ get this place back up to number one condition.” the older man continued.

“That leak that caused all this problem come from the coffee maker up on the third floor. You know, the legal counsel offices. The Veep’s secret dungeon bunker on down below got water stains on a couple of chairs and he went out of his friggin’ mind. Yeah, out of his friggin’ head. That’s when they dumped what’s his name, you know, the Secretary of State.”

“Anyways, I’ll come back later to get ya’. I’ll have to have Blackwater open the vault door to let you out and stuff. They’ll probably wanna’ pat us down.”

“Later.” Bill added as a friendly aside as he walked away from the younger man.

“Yeah. Later.” Larry responded, grabbing his mop and bucket.

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