Mini-T climbed down from the step stool after tacking up the placard, “The Map Room” above the doorway to their dining room. Agent M watched with concealed amusement. With all the leaves to the dining room table added there would be enough seats. The geographic tablecloth scattered with red Monopoly hotels and Hasbro Risk armies gave a clear picture.
Model T brought a big box of designer hooded robes into the room. “For the Cabinet Meetings.” She set the box down. “I hope this is a big hit, the markup, I put on them is tremendous. “Mini-T, you and I are going to have to keep reminding Flossy, that just because she was born a communist, does not mean, she still has to obey like a communist. She’s rich now. And rich means more than shopping.” She went from chair to chair draping a robe over the high-backed chairs. “This is going to be great. I mean the greatest.” She paused and looked at Mini-T, “I just sounded like Dad.” She placed a robe with five silver stars on each lapel on the chair at the head of the table. The ‘Grand Robe.”
Model T went over and opened each laptop in front of each chair. She typed a code into her Android, and the sound of a bell tower echoed from each machine. The Cloud server with security certificates worked seamlessly. The entire system was set up by Symmetry with the help from the Geek Squad.
Fauntleroy walked into the room and solemnly donned his robe and placed the hood. The rest of the cabinet walked in single file and put their robes on. They were curious, looking at the red hotels and Hasbro Risk armies placed on the table before them. The cabinet sat. Fauntleroy stood, “because of my genius, I win, it’s true, I like to win. Everyone at this table likes to win. We have to create wealth, what else is there for us?” He sat down. “Banshee, these are nice robes did you order them from Model T?”
The pointy hood of the Chief Strategist bobbed forward and back.
What is the first order of business? The remote Russian intercom blurted out, “We have heard from Pakistan International Airlines. They heard you were in search of a replacement for Air Force 1. They can give you a really good deal, maybe the best deal. The airplane they offer has low miles and only one owner. The U.S. government killed the owner and that plane is unclaimed and just sits there. Are you interested?”
Fauntleroy pressed a button in front of him, disconnecting the Russian intercom. He typed a note to himself. “OK, what’s next?”
The third hood from the right spoke. “My President, I have a proposal for a new National Anthem. I took the liberty of uploading the lyrics:
Cypress Hill - Hits From The Bong (Lyrics in description)
“I hope you don’t mind; My President,” said hood number three. “I hacked your cloud account to upload the YouTube video. Flossy’s cousin helped me do that.”
“Anything else?” asked Fauntleroy.
“Hood number five spoke up, “We have cleared the way for you to address the people through a Department of Defense airway station. We are thinking of naming the program RealityAmerica. The name is still under discussion. AirAmerica is a registered trademark. The point is we no longer need the free press to distribute our message. No more of their lies, from those very stupid intellectuals. We will let those press scavengers starve. They will only get news from us. My staff can handle all the programming.”
“Anything else?” Fauntleroy turned and called, “Jersey Fat, see that Play-Doh® set over there? Get started squeezing some round ‘pipeline.’ "I want you guys to pay close attention." Jersey Fat opened the set and in a few moments had a handful of red clay dough. He set them on a silver platter and brought them to the table. “You guys can put your pipelines where ever you want them, but not near any of those Red hotels. And see those tiny golf carts? Those are my golf courses. That is sacred land. Got it? Stay away!"
Each member began placing red clay strips around the cloth geographic tablecloth. Fauntleroy flipped through this month's ‘Top Agent Magazine’ while his staff was busy.
Even though it was only 9 a.m. when Flossy entered, she was wearing a full-length evening gown. “Darling, time for your medication.” She handed a shot glass with several pills in it to Fauntleroy.
“I’m very smart. I know when it is time to take my medication.”
“Yes, darling.” She said over her shoulder while all eyes watched her depart.
Jersey Fat, distracted, let a handful of red clay fall to the floor. The first pipeline accident in the map room.
Fauntleroy looked at the clay on his Persian carpet. “Jersey Fat, that is why you did not get a seat at the table. Clean that mess up. If you get your act together, I might pardon you.”
Hood number six leaned over to hood number seven, “Did you hear the one about ‘unethical amnesia’ laughter swept around the table.
Downstairs in front of the towers a crowd of about one hundred paraded wearing tee-shirts printed, “Deplorable Me.”
This is a work of fiction. No communists were hurt during the production of this fictitious article. People, places, and events are too absurd to fictitiously offend. All mentions of possible hacking are blatantly flagrant and are likely the result of a 400 pound man sitting on a bed somewhere. Any reproduction may be picked up by the C.I.A. or F.B.I. and either ignored by those that pay them for their expertise, or used for their own personal gain at the most opportune time.
By reading this the user consents to unwarranted wire tapping, recording, audits, and uninvited visits by men in black driving large black GMC automobiles. Non-prescribed religious beliefs may also require State registration as various ‘areas of interest’ will not be tolerated. Notarized and certified dental records may be necessary for voter registration.
No warranties are expressed or implied. Read at your own risk.
If you are allergic to Fauntleroy and Flossy, or any of the ingredients, stop using and consult your primary physician, your cardiologists, and urologists. The patent pending formula may not be right for everyone. User results may vary. Any overt attempt at humor is purely inconsequential.
In order to cut back expenses, the Supreme Court has been delegitimized and two branches of government will rule while the people suffer through this unfortunate cutback. The message is clear: Rules only apply when they reward your own efforts.
Chant of the Templars - Da Pacem Domine (Esemble Organum)
Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) - 'The Map Room: Dawn' scene 
Connie walked into the room. “Did you really talk to a crowd in Louisiana and tell them you don’t need their vote anymore?” She threw her hands in the air and walked back out.
© 2016 mckbirdbks