Dear Elizabeth, I am writing to you from the heart of America, where anything is possible. I have learned so much here… like how to write a snowflake, the proper attire for a funeral and how to give noncommittal answers to tough questions. Sitting next to Hillary is unnerving to me. I can’t stop thinking about what I’ll say if she asks me to be her VP. You and I both know that Bill’s been doing an awful lot of talking about his views and not as much time about Senator Clinton’s. I’m the type of man who hates to lose, although you already knew that. You know me so well. I miss you so much I can barely get out of bed in the mornings….
“I once charged $4,200 for a handshake and a photo,” Cheney stated, leaning over the college classroom podium, narrowing his eyes at the candidates seated before him. There were two new faces in the audience: Ron Paul and Joe Biden. They were fresh recruits as of today and they were quiet and aloof note takers, as was to be expected. They sat on either side of McCain, taking frequent peeks at all of McCain’s notes.
Ron Paul raised his hand. “I made $6.04 million at my Boston Tea Party fundraiser in December,” he offered meekly.
“First time I’ve heard it,” Cheney dismissed. “What we’re talking about is handshakes, not fundraising. Some asshole once told me there’s a handshake for your equals – one where thumbs are together and the shake is firm but relaxed. But as the Vice President of the United States, you’re not going to meet many equals. Most folks are inferior. I recommend a clamping vice-like grip that demonstrates authority… or you could try the one that the President uses that I like to call The Protector. It’s a firm double hand clasp that suggests you’d like the other leader to see things your way.”
McCain stretched across the aisle to Ron Paul, eyebrows raised, hand out. Ron Paul reached out and shook his hand, but grimaced when McCain crunched one of his finger bones.
“MCCAIN!” Cheney bellowed. “Did I say it was ok for you to shake hands with anyone in this room? Each comrade here is, in fact, your enemy combatant, unless they win the general election! Get up here in front of the class. Senator Clinton, you too!”
“Dick, you already know I have one of the strongest handshakes in this room,” Hillary protested.
“Your rhetoric, senator, would be a lot more credible if there was a record to back it up… there isn’t. Get up here,” Cheney snapped.
Hillary and McCain faced each other at the front of the room.
I can’t believe I have to shake hands with the bitch, McCain thought with a grimace-like grin. I don’t have to feel guilty about saying that because one of the voters said it first. Everyone knows it’s true. What kind of a handshake should I give her, in that case? Do I press my thumb down on the pressure point extra-hard? Or do I try to give it a rigorous shake and get out as quickly as possible? Geez, tough call… I wonder what Joe Lieberman would do?
He really has no game, Senator Clinton thought, while smiling unusually large. Even though we both have the endorsements for Iowa, I think I’m a more unconventional candidate. I’m not sure what to expect from a man who’s been tortured in the war. I shouldn’t have to worry about this. Bill taught me the rules of handshaking long ago. I know this.
“Well? Stop admiring each other and shake on it!” Cheney commanded.
“Pretend like you’re meeting Musharraf to tell him you’re planning to suspend weapons sales!” Joe Biden called out from the back row.
Cheney walked up the aisle to Joe Biden’s seat and leaned over him, breathing heavily from the effort. “The notion that we’d suspend weapon sales to Musharraf is ludicrous, Joe,” Cheney scolded. “The fact is Musharraf has put his neck on the line in order to be effective in going after the extremist elements including al-Qaeda and including the Taliban in Pakistan. There have been three attempts on his life, two of those by al-Qaeda over the course of the last three years. This is a man who has demonstrated great courage under very difficult political circumstances and has been a great ally for the United States.”
“Look, Dick, you’re not even making sense,” Biden argued.
“Get out of here. I can’t even conduct my lesson with your dissidence. Just get out.” Cheney pointed to the door.
Joe Biden shook his head in disbelief. “Let’s just be smart this time. I’m looking for smart.”
“I’m looking for you to go down to Donald Rumsfeld’s quarters. He’ll be expecting you.”
“What do you have in mind?” Joe asked.
“In the US military Brigs, they have this thing called a ‘Blanket Party’. You’ll love it.”
“Well that sounds a little Log Cabin Republican,” Giuliani remarked to Romney at his right.
“There’s room for you, Rudy,” Dick said. “MOVE IT, Biden.”
Joe Biden stood up with his notebook and grumbled under his breath, “This is absolutely bizarre.”
“What’s a blanket party?” Hillary whispered to McCain.
“It’s, ah, when a bunch of good ol’ boys throw a blanket over your head and pummel you in the stomach with their fists, mostly in your stomach and face.”
“Poor Joe!” Hillary gasped.
“Senator Clinton,” Cheney put his hand on her shoulder. “The only reason I don’t pummel you myself is because I feel a genuine bond with you. You’re the only person who’s at the center of more conspiracy theories than I am.”
Ron Paul raised his hand. “Mr. Vice President, there are conspiracy theories that the Neo-cons want me dead, that the media is against me and that my supporters and I are out to get Glenn Beck.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Libertarian. I can’t understand one word you’ve just said,” Cheney waved his hand agitatedly. “Now Clinton, McCain: pretend as though you’re shaking hands with a Detroit automaker.”
Clinton rolled her eyes instinctively. McCain maintained his shrewd gaze directly into Clinton’s soul. They reached out to one another and proceeded with an exemplary handshake. They smiled at one another, proud of their achievement.
Cheney swatted his hand. "Fine. Now McCain, I want you to pretend that Clinton is that shrimp Kim Jong-il. You have to shake hands to be polite, but you really think he’s an irresponsible leader and an evil dictator. We don’t negotiate with evil dictators, but occasionally the President requests that you do the dirty work, so you want to give it a good towering lean, distinctively hard pressure and you should continue with the shake just one or two repetitions after you sense he wishes to stop.”
McCain frowned. “With all due respect, sir, I just can’t imagine Clinton as a Kim Jong-il. She’s not nearly as distinguished. Can you send Ron Paul up?”
“Very well,” Cheney sighed. “PAUL!”
Ron Paul started to get up, but their attention was diverted to a scrawny young man in UFO-pattern pajama pants, a gray COLLEGE T-shirt and flip flops fled down the aisle holding a “Vote Ron Paul” sign. “Vote Libertarian 2008!” the kid was screaming in a hoarse, whiney voice. “Vote Ron Paul, Ron Paul Revolution, Ron Paul 2008!”
As the furor was happening, a siren began going off and a red light flashed above the doorway, indicating that the terror level was at its peak.
“Shit,” Cheney uttered beneath his breath.
All the candidates were standing now, bewildered, with adrenaline rushing.
“I don’t want to die!” John Edwards exclaimed. “I need to live for Elizabeth! She won’t be able to carry on without me!”
“Everyone, calm down and proceed to the door. You know the drill. It’s probably that democracy-hating scumbag Ahmadinejad again,” Cheney instructed.
TO BE CONTINUED!
