Ring, ring.

“Issacs. No, the governor does not have a stance on the salmonella outbreak. That’s health; go pester them. And while you’re at it, go eat some of that chicken yourself, Steve!”

Hangs up phone. There’s a knock on the door.

“Mr. Isaacs, Bernard Nicholson here to see you.”

“Send him in!”

“Ah, David, such a pleasure to see you again.”

“Spare the theatrics, Bernie. I haven’t got the ever-loving patience for your BS.”

“Alright then, I’ll come right out and say it: Your boy took a hit in the polls this week, didn’t he?”

“It’s called being an incumbent, Bernie. It happens to everyone. The last thing that we need is-”

“Regardless of how it happened, I have to say that the rest of the state legislature is getting a little nervous. It’s one thing to lose the Governor’s Mansion, but a sweep of the House and the Senate? They’re nervous.”

“These poop-kickers from Newport and Lexington actually think their tiny pathetic political careers matter. Tell them to grow up, Mr. Speaker. This is a dog-ate-my-cat world; if they think that the governor’s stock rises and drops with theirs, then give them a long deep cavity search because it’s pretty clear that’s where their heads are.”

“Listen David, I know your propensity for violent imagery is something of a trademark used to scare junior press and legislators, but we both know that the opposition is watching your boy’s every move. We heard about Ron’s massive mess-up on the radio, but we’re getting a lot of heat from the opposition now! For God’s sake, aren’t you going to fire someone? Do you care at all how this is going to affect the House and Senate?”

“Bernie, the name of the game is shame. You know how you wash the stink off? You douse your enemy in gasoline and set him on fire.”

“I imagine that makes for an interesting political strategy.”

“Look, Ron’s an ass, but he’s our ass, so we have to deal with it. Shoot, the election is in a year, if we drop Ron now we look like the Titanic, going down with all hands on deck playing the violins! Right now, we need to hammer the opposition for crucifying our boy.”

“But aren’t we crucifying our boy?”

“Welcome to politics. Look, I’ve had a long, violent, and raging good scream at Ron and he’s still solid.”

“So the governor won’t let you fire Ron but he’s still letting Ron out into the open?”

“You know where he’s at now? He’s conditioning for his stupid Thanksgiving run over in Newpark with the Yokels. They got him carrying a pig or goat or sheep or something. And I was the one who told him to go out and get us some good coverage! Sam!”

Door opens.

“Yes Mr. Isaacs?”

“Get me James, Ron’s adviser, on the phone now. Wait five seconds and then get Karen, his publicist, on the line too. Stick around, Bernie. You might just enjoy this.”

“Regrettably, David, I don’t have the luxury, the electorate needs massaging. Thank you for your words of … encouragement. Very Spartacus-y.”

“Yeah, just make sure those hands of yours are only massaging.”

Door closes.

“Idiot.”

“Hello, this is James!”

“James, let me ask you something.”

“Actually, can you wait for a moment?”

“Of course, James.”

“Sam! Connect James and Karen on the phone right now!”

“Yes, Mr. Isaacs!”

“Mr. Isaacs, this is Karen. James is here too.”

“I feel like I’ve been real generous to you two. I really do. You’ve worked for us for a long time now and I feel you both deserve to plead your cases as to why you should keep your jobs. Whoever briefed Ron before his radio fiasco versus whoever booked the pig farm photo-op. However, as much as I feel you deserve a chance, I really don’t have the time to listen. Therefore, you’re both fired.”

Hangs up.

“Sam! Call me a cab. I’m done for the day.”