What Really Matters

“What a weekend,” Klepto said as he dropped onto his baby seal skin sofa in the Residence or maybe it was the Ivory Tower. The two rooms had been decorated exactly alike so Klepto never knew where he was.

“Golf with the Emperor of Japan. Amazing,” he said. Actually it wasn’t clear that Klepto had exactly said anything. He had eaten like an Emperor all weekend and was so gassy it might have been his asshole that was doing the talking. It often was. “He’s considered a god, you know,” Klepto continued. “I guess that makes me a god too. I wonder what God thinks about that. Probably jealous.”

Klepto leaned back and put his hands behind his head. This was not easy because the fringe of Brillo-like orange hair stuck out where most people put their hands when they were doing this sort of thing. He could have put his hands on top of his head which in its bald white radar-dome shininess would have made a perfect location but would have made him look like a cop was holding a gun on him. He had spent the morning watching the Shows, where he got all the information he needed to run the free world, while his guest conferred with staff. They had played golf on a Klepto course behind his Big Top outside of Miami or as Klepto called it “Miasma.” Klepto’s putt hit the windmill twice and he threw his club, so his guest also hit the windmill and threw his club as well. “This so-called windmill,” Klepto shouted.

“The Emperor loves me,” Klepto’s asshole said. There was no one else in the room except his domestic staff all of whom he called Jose or sometimes Pedro, even though two of them were maids in white aprons

“He told he what a great victory I had won and how smart I was and how well I spoke Japanese. I didn’t even know I spoke Japanese,” Klepto’s asshole said. “We’re close. Those Korean fellows launched something during dinner. A rocket or a golf ball or dessert and the Emperor got upset. But it was cool. We went into the lobby of the Big Top where we had set up a bunch of American flags so it would look very Precedential, so important, and he said something very forceful. He’s a very forceful man for a little guy. That’s because he’s a god. And I backed him up one hundred percent. I made my serious face and pointed at the camera and said, ‘You’re expired.’ They knew what I getting at.”

At this point Tinkerbelle flounced in followed by Harlequin who had a baby in a carrier on his chest. “I oiled the Tin Woman and put her away for the week,” she announced. “What are you watching?”

“Never mind.” It was a Bonanza rerun. “How did we do this weekend?” Klepto asked.
“Great, even though we comped the Jap,” Tinkerbelle said. “We didn’t comp his staff and there was a bunch he couldn’t put up in another location. You know security, personal secretary, etc. We really ran up their bill. And of course there were breakfasts and lunches and dinners. The whole entourage showed up for those.”

“Ka-ching. I know we talk a lot about illegal immigration and walls and how dishonest the press is and how poorly the new guy is doing on my old TV show, but it’s important to remember what’s really important and that’s how much money we can squeeze out of this scam. I mean, who knows how long it’ll last? With Celebrity Crown Prince behind us this is all we’ve got, except for the money the Vlizard of Oz gives us. Gives—ha!” Klepto’s mouth was talking now. His asshole didn’t like to talk money, only politics.

“This is just the start, Daddy. This time we comped a world leader. Great PR. Next time we’ll charge him and figure out some reason why his whole staff has to stay at the Big Top—.”

“‘The Winter White Home,’ I call it,” Klepto’s asshole said. “Where did the last guy have his winter White Home?”

Harlequin, Klepto’s go-to guy when it came to knowing things, said, “He stayed at the White Home, Klepto. Precedents used to have a summer White Home before there was air conditioning and the DC mosquitos were killed. In the winter, they stayed at the White Home because Congress was in session and they had to, well, work.”

Tinkerbelle shot her husband a withering look. There were going to be no magic tricks when they went to bed in the next room tonight. “As I was saying, now that we’ve pretended not to be self-interested, we can sock it to everybody. Harlequin is trying to get the Defense Department to rent offices in the Ivory Tower at $1.5 million dollars a square foot. To be on hand with the nuclear codes when you’re there.”

“I’m never there. That’s where the Tin Woman lives!” Klepto said.

“We don’t have to tell them that,” Harlequin reminded him.

Klepto knew there was a reason he kept that guy around.

Like reading about Klepto? Wouldn’t it be great to see him too? Contribute cartoons or other artwork and I’ll put it on the site. Let’s see what this Klown looks like!

Also, if you enjoyed this post, check out my Amazon Author Page. Thanks!

Author: leonardrysdyk

Leonard Rysdyk is the author of more than a dozen novels, stories, articles and poems. His work has appeared in many publications including Snow White, Blood Red, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Aboriginal Magazine and the New York Review of Science Fiction. A professor at Nassau Community College, he teaches literature (including science fiction), cultural history (including the history of science) and is an acknowledged innovator in the field of Computer Aided Instruction (CAI), a subject on which he has lectured and consulted.

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