Red brick buildings lined a narrow road the signs identified as Bow Street. I walked toward the intersection with Market as a midsummer breeze carried the scent of chowder. Night was falling on the old New England town as I tried to collect my bearings. Looking to my left I spotted a hole-in-the-wall with a neon sign that read “Fat Belly’s Bar & Grill.” I had arrived at my destination.
I stepped into the tavern and immediately saw the reason I had come. There the balding Congressman stood in the corner with the four-eyed journalist S.E. Cupp. I waited for the crowd to thin some before making my approach. I introduced myself and shook the Congressman’s hand. It was extremely wet. As I discretely wiped my hand on my pant leg, I noticed the Congressman’s face was crimson red. Naturally, I asked if he was okay. Before he could answer, S.E. Cupp said something and slowly walked away. As she exited, the Congressman starred at her backside.
“Whew!” he exclaimed, tapping me on the arm as his color started to return, “Check out the ass on that.”
I was taken aback. I never expected a Congressman to be so honest. Though I certainly sneaked a peek, I was only there as a professional. I wanted to interview the Congressman from Livonia who felt his appearances on Red Eye could earn him a shot at the Republican Party’s presidential nomination.
I asked about his campaign, but he cut me off and continued talking about Cupp.
“Her best assets are up front,” he said, motioning his hands as if groping two breasts, “She ain’t no S.E. Cupp. She’s more like Double D Cupp!”
I could smell the alcohol on the Congressman’s breath as he made these comments. I figured he had one too many Sam Adamses. Knowing I wouldn’t get the interview I wanted, I decided to just play along.
“So you hitting that?” I asked with a slightly sardonic tone.
“I wish!” he responded, “She says she won’t fuck a married man. It sucks!”
Yes, this interview was really sucking. Thankfully, as I was about to leave, S.E. Cupp returned. The Congressman started blushing again and began babbling incoherently. He excused himself to the bathroom, leaving me alone with Cupp.
So there we were; a couple of journalists with nothing better to do. I struck up a conversation and we found we had a great deal in common. We hit it off very well. I noticed how she studied my left hand and immediately knew what she was thinking. Without hesitation, I asked if she wanted to go someplace else. She did. We left the tavern with the Congressman still on the can and headed off to someplace else . . . .
Suddenly, my head jerked up and I was back home in Texas. It seems I had dozed while sitting at my computer desk. I cleared my eyes and gazed at the screen. The following image appeared: