Tinkerbelle was sitting at the table with papers spread before her like a schoolgirl doing her homework. She looked cold. She always looked cold. Maybe it was because her skin was as white as snow. Or as talcum powder and foundation, anyway. Or maybe because her tiny green strapless, sleeveless sheath dress covered so little of her. She shrugged her bare shoulders and crossed her bare ankles. On the back wall, her brother the Scarecrow was hanging on his Scarecross staring mindlessly into space while her other brother, the Cowardly Lion Killer, was prone under the crystal coffee table, his chin propped on his fist staring mindlessly at the TV his father was watching with tortured animation.
“He’s going to talk!” Klepto groused and pulled another lock of orange hair from the fringe around his bald white pate. “The Flying Monkey is going to spill the beans.”
“Maybe he won’t,” The Cowardly Lion Killer said.
“Why else would he want immunity?” Klepto demanded forgetting who he was talking to, chip off the old blockhead.
“Who wouldn’t want immunity?” his son asked. “It sounds delicious. Like with sour cream and fruit and chocolate chips. I would talk for that. I’d say all sorts of stuff. If I could think of anything to say, I mean.”
“That’s infinity, you knucklehead. It’s a dessert,” growled his father. He pulled out some more hair. “He means he’s going to blab so he won’t get prosecuted.”
“Prosecuted? That sounds terrible,” chimed in the Scarecrow roused from his stupor. “Isn’t that the doctor who looks up your ass? I’d say anything to avoid that.”
“That’s persecuted, you knucklehead. Prosecuted is when they try to pin a crime on you and if you don’t pay, you have to go to jail.”
“Who are they going to prostitute, Dad?” asked TCLK.
“First him,” Klepto said pointing at the image of the Flying Monkey as the news kept running a clip where he said, “If you get immunity, that basically means you’re guilty,” again and again. “And if he talks, then it’ll be me.”
“What’s he going to talk about, Dad?” asked the Scarecrow. He furrowed his brow and tried to remember things. If he only had a brain…
“Everything! Me. The deal we have with the Vlizard of Oz where he gets to run things while I’m Precedent. The money. The unspeakable things we did in Russia. He knows everything. Our only hope is that there is SO MUCH to talk about, they won’t even think to ask him about it all.”
“But if you’re prostituted, all you have to do is pay them off, right?” asked TCLK. He turned to look up at his father through the crystal table. “That’s what you always do.”
“You can’t pay these guys. At least I don’t think you can. Can you? CAN YOU?” Klepto raised his voice to get Tinkerbelle’s attention but she was engrossed in her homework.
“Hey! You’re my official advisor now. I need some advice.”
“Sure, sure,” said Tinkerbelle. “Daddy, you should read these things. They’re called intelligence reports and I’m allowed to see them now. They have all sorts of juicy gossip in them. Did you know that Angela Merkel is a woman? Really. And she’s the leader of someplace called Germany. And someplace called England is run by a woman too. I didn’t know women were allowed to run countries. In fact, I thought that’s why you ‘won’ the ‘election’—because the other one was a woman and not allowed to run the country. Amazing. Look at this. Did you know Obama was kicking ISIS’ ass before we got here?”
“Fake news! Those guys are part of the deep state that’s out to get me. There’s nothing in those reports but facts and you can’t trust facts, they change all the time. Now get over here. I didn’t make you special advisor to read reports all day. Get to work.”
Tinkerbelle gave a little pout then flounced to her spot behind where Klepto sat on the couch.
She knew her moment had come and she had to perform an action for the good of the country, for her husband, her family and herself.
End of part I