2022 – The White House, Washington D.C.
Stephanie Roosevelt-Hill sat in front of her dressing table in the bedroom of the White House. She looked in the three-pane mirror, surrounded with lights, dressed only in her bra and panties. As she rubbed the liquid foundation for the usual makeup on her face, she stopped and stared at the new wrinkles that had accumulated near the outside of each eye and on her forehead. When she decided to run for President nearly eight years earlier, she was a U.S. Senator, 46 years old and sexy. She had just been appointed by her home state of New York to take her late husband’s seat in the Senate. He was accidentally killed in a snow mobile crash while on vacation in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. She served the last four years of his term.
Her once jet black hair was now streaked with gray. The White House stylist did her best to hide the gray, but it always kept coming back. She pushed back the hair near her right temple and remarked, “If this was Halloween, I could go as a witch.”
She stood up and took a good look at the reflection of her body in the mirror. Her once flat stomach was now a little loose and flabby. She thought the love handles on each side of her waist were disgusting. Her breasts were starting to sag and her once straight posture was now starting to show a forward lean. She now had to force herself to stand up straight and tall – in the old days she didn’t have to think about it. She had developed minor back problems from all the walking and standing in high heels while greeting Americans across the country during her campaigns and official functions the last eight years. “Maybe I could introduce legislation to ban high-heels for women everywhere,” she thought, generating a slight smile from that person in the mirror looking back at her.
She was now 54 years old – almost an infant by past Presidential standards – but old by her own standards. She was about to deliver her sixth State of the Union Address. As she stared into the mirror, she wondered how history would remember her. Her approval ratings by the American public had been through the roof since her ground-breaking ethanol policies began years earlier.
“Madame President,” her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the bedroom door by her personal aid. “We need to leave in 10 minutes,” Tuesday Bigelow said, entering the room at a fast pace and quickly walking over to the dressing table. “I’ve got the final draft of your speech,” she said, handing the President a medium blue folder with the Presidential Seal on the outside.
“Thanks Tuesday. What would I do without you?”
“Probably get help from someone else,” Tuesday matter-of-factly said, feigning the importance of her job as Chief of Staff and personal assistant and confidant to the President.
“I’ll be in the hall with the secret service detail going over any route changes to the Capitol,” she said. “If you need any help selecting your clothes, just call.” Bigelow turned and left the room just as fast as she had entered.
“Where does she get the energy?” the President wondered. “She could do commercials for those energy drink companies, or that battery-powered bunny.” She looked back into the mirror and continued applying her makeup.
. . .
Vice-President William Wyckoff was already at the Capitol building. He was walking down a long hallway that led to his office. Although he was dressed in the navy blue suit with sharp lines of today’s business leaders, his short cropped sun-bleached blonde hair still gave him the look of a military man. His black shoes were shined to look like patent leather. He walked upright and straight, speaking to everyone he met in the long hallway of the Capitol building leading to the Senate and House offices. He was a powerful man, both physically and politically. As he moved toward his office, which had a window looking out at the Mall toward the Washington Monument – one of the perks of being President Pro Tem of the Senate – he was being chased down the hall by his chief aid, Dee Walker.
“Bill, Bill,” Walker said, out of breath and coughing as he tried to talk. “Speaker Ebersole wants to meet with you before the address – in her office as usual.”
“Well we wouldn’t want to disappoint the Speaker, now would we?” Wyckoff said with a smile. “After all, this show is in HER house tonight.”
“And she’s sure to remind us all that it’s her house,” Walker said, coughing again.
“Dee, how many packs a day do you smoke?” Wyckoff asked, somewhat annoyed by his out-of-shape assistant.
“Down to two Sir, and getting better.”
. . .
Abdul-Ahad Assahd looked in the mirror in his suite at Washington’s Watergate Hotel. What he saw was a failure. As the Minister of Oil for Saudi Arabia, Assahd was in charge of generating sales of oil all over the world. His job was once easy, but now that America had started using more ethanol than gasoline to power the world’s largest car population, the oil companies were not buying as much of his country’s sweet crude oil. Sixty percent of the American cars were now burning ethanol and this percentage had increased daily since Roosevelt-Hill had delivered that fateful State of the Union address seven years ago. As the Americans used less gasoline, the Royal Saudi family and his country continued to lose hundreds of millions of dollars every day.
“Damn that infidel Roosevelt-Hill and her energy initiatives,” he cursed at the mirror. The fact that Roosevelt-Hill had almost single-handedly led the second American Revolution was hard enough for Abdul-Ahad to believe, but the fact that she was a woman made it worse. She had outsmarted the Saudi male chauvinists at their own game and now the Arabs were paying a heavy price.
“Is it my fault our oil sales have plummeted?” he questioned his reflection. “How could I have foreseen this Jezebel Hill’s plans?”
Although it wasn’t his fault the American’s needed less oil, Abdul-Ahad Assahd felt he had somehow betrayed the trust of his late father, Al Abdul-Ahad Fiad Assahd, who had placed him at the head of the oil ministry, 30 years ago. His older brother, Al Fiad Akman Assahd was now the King of Saudi Arabia, and he had continued to place his trust in Abdul-Ahad to run the Oil Ministry.
“I’ve still got the Russians, Chinese and those filthy Indians,” he continued to speak into the mirror. “But the Americans, they are the oil glutens of the world . . . infidels . . . they are all infidels.”
Abdul-Ahad was able to sell more oil to fuel the growing economies of Russia, China and India, but the Americans were the giants in automotive gas consumption. America’s total was more than the Russian’s and Indians combined. Only the Chinese were rivaling the Americans in consuming fuel, due mainly to their tremendous growth over the last ten years and their enormous population. The Americans had always used more oil than the rest of the world combined for years, but those days were gone, thanks to Roosevelt-Hill.
“Today, I will become the hero of Allah and Saudi Arabia,” he said as he put on his family red and white checked keffiyeh headdress, completing his ceremonial Arabia dress. “I will take my place in heaven beside Allah and my father. Today, the Americans will pay dearly for their demonic behavior and their crimes against Saudi Arabia, the Middle East and Islam.”
. . .
The ride to the Capitol building from the White House was uneventful as usual. There were the usual on-lookers who always lined the route exiting the White House when they knew the President had an announced trip. Roosevelt-Hill had become one of the most popular Presidents in the history of the United States, a far cry from where she started. Her approval rating by the American public was at 96 percent, topping the 92 percent approval rating George W. Bush enjoyed during late September and October of 2001 after the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. But things were not always this good for Roosevelt-Hill. She was scorned at first, when she decided to run for the office, stating that the government was failing the people. Her stint as a Senator had given her the insight into how the government was not working. She tried to fix it at the congressional level, but she was forced out of the inner circles by the powers that be. She discovered that both political parties were run by a good-ole-boys club and membership in that club was hard to obtain. She knew the only way she could affect change was to be the boss, so she decided to run for President.
She campaigned on a platform of good common sense and moral values, two qualities she said were alarmingly absent in Washington. She was not given much chance to win the Republican nomination, much less the office of President, but her opposition both in the Republican and Democrat parties used such negative advertising campaign material and personal attacks against her that it galvanized large blocks of women voters to come to her aid across the nation. The republicans were the first to make the mistake of bashing Roosevelt-Hill. Using rhetoric that included words like unqualified, asinine, unrealistic, and comical; and phrases like “she should have found her a new husband and gotten pregnant,” galvanized her supporters and alienated the party leaders.
The verbal abuse directed at Roosevelt-Hill by members of her own party and by the press raised eyebrows all over America. Actors and famous musicians immediately came to her aid. Women in all 50 states volunteered to work in grass roots campaigns at record numbers, and her popularity rapidly swelled to unusual proportions. Because she was a beautiful woman, she never missed a chance to present her message on television. All the talk shows wanted her as a guest, and she made time for all of them – preaching her message of change.
Overnight, she became a political phenomenon – almost a cult figure. As her popularity grew, the negative attacks by her opposition increased. This was the second mistake the Republican Party made. They might have had a chance to derail her campaign if they had backed off, but they kept pouring gasoline on a fire that had just started to rage. Each negative attack on Roosevelt-Hill just frustrated women all over America more and more. Before the Republican primaries began, large campaigns to register women voters sprung up in every state. College students – both men and women – came to the aid of the hippest candidate in the history of the United States. Male voters under 50 years old became her champion simply because she was one of the sexiest women on the planet. Large voter registration drives put more people under the age of 25 on the poll lists than ever before. She won the first five Republican primaries before the party knew what had hit them. At that point, her momentum was too strong to stop. She won the Republican nomination, but the party leaders were not exactly thrilled by her success. Their only consolation was forcing her to choose William Wyckoff, the retired Army general as her vice-presidential running mate. She had not wanted Wyckoff, but she thought she needed some unity within the party after she had made enemies of the Republican hierarchy. Wyckoff was a war hero and that fact alone helped solidify the Roosevelt-Hill/Wyckoff ticket with many staunch conservative and Christian groups.
When the Presidential campaign started, the Democrats, not being quick studies of recent history, made the same mistake as the Republicans. Instead of focusing on issues, they personally attacked Roosevelt-Hill. When the bitter campaign was over and the election finally came, she was a winner in 47 states, losing only in extremely conservative states of Alabama, Mississippi and South Carolina. More people voted in that 2012 election than in any other election in the history of the United States, many of them for the first time. It was estimated that traditionally Democratic voters crossed party lines in record numbers, something the elders in the Democratic Party could not start to believe, much less understand.
After the election, most of the male-dominated congress took notice of the voter’s reactions to how the negativism to the female candidate had backfired, and how the nation’s mandate signaled a change in who the American voter was, and how those voters were now thinking. Many candidates in other races who had joined in the criticism of Roosevelt-Hill were soundly defeated in their House and Senate elections. No one wanted to catch the backlash of an angry American public, male or female, and lose their seat in office in the next election. Almost immediately after Roosevelt-Hill took office in January, 2013, Senators and Congressmen rallied to her causes and the legislature actually became an effective lawmaking body during her first six years as President. The usual power brokers on Capitol Hill and in the business community all played second fiddle to the people’s choice.
. . .
Senator Cane Preston, the senior Republican Senator from Texas got out of his limo at the main entrance to the Watergate Hotel. He was to meet Abdul-Ahad Assahd in the lobby. Preston had invited Assahd to attend the State of the Union Address as his guest.
“Would you like me to go in with you, Sir?” his chief aid, Dave Christof asked the Senator, as one of his body guards opened the limo door.
“Hay-ell naw,” Preston answered the question with his best Texas cowboy twang. “I don’t wanna spook the turban-headed bastard. It’s bad ’nuff havin’ ta sit in tha same car with them stinkin’ turban-headed som-bitches. But bidness is bidness.”
The Senator was backed by many influential oilmen from Texas and putting on a good front with the Saudi’s was always good for business, and for his campaign coffers.
In one corner of the lobby, Assahd was seated with several of his traveling entourage. He was wearing his white, full body robe, with the red and white checked keffiyeh that Yassir Arafat had made famous years earlier.
“Why can’t them bastards just wear a suit like eb’body else?” the Senator mumbled to himself as he approached the oil minister.
“Yur highness, as always, it’s great to see ya,” Preston said forcing a smile any Cheshire cat would be proud of. He stopped several feet in front of Assahd and waited for him to rise from the couch on which he was sitting. Two aids helped Assahd rise, and the aid to his left handed him a walking cane hand-carved from ivory.
“Cane Preston,” Assahd said as he rose. “I am so grateful for the invitation to witness such a great event. Only in America, and in person, can one appreciate an event of such splendor and grandeur. This is a night that history will remember.”
The two men shook hands and smiled. “Sir, that’s quite an impressive walkin’ stick ya got there. Can I take a look at it?”
Assahd handed the cane to Preston. The Senator ran his fingers over the work of art and looked at the Egyptian figures carved into the bone. He especially liked the handle, shaped to look like the head of a jackal.
“It was a gift from Anwar Sadat. He and I were great friends before he was assassinated. The cane will be yours after the address tonight by your President,” Assahd said. “Unfortunately, I may need it until then . . . I seem to be feeling the pain of growing old . . . my right knee. How do you say . . . the trick football knee?”
“Got one of ’em myself in my last college football game against them damn Aggies at Texas A&M,” Preston told the visitor, patting his right knee with his right hand.
Both men laughed at the prospect of growing old and then Preston motioned toward the front of the lobby and the two walked side-by-side. The oil minister’s entourage followed several steps behind.
“I think y’all will enjoy one of my country’s greatest traditions,” Preston said as the two approached the door.
“Being a part of history is something all great men strive to obtain,” Assahd said, walking through the door that Preston graciously opened for him. “We never know when we might be part of an event that could change the world.”
. . .
William Wyckoff was one of the first dignitaries to enter the House chambers. He was always early. That was part of his military days he couldn’t – and didn’t – want to escape. He walked up to the podium and looked out over the hall as if he was making the address. “One day,” he thought, “I might actually make this address myself.”
His thoughts of being President were interrupted by a service technician. “Sir, I need to run the last sound check,” a voice from behind him ended his daydream.
He left the podium and moved to his customary seat behind and above the podium. He sat down and opened his notebook, looking over the President’s speech. As he read, the chamber slowly started to fill.
. . .
Cane Preston and Abdul-Ahad Assahd walked through the Capitol halls en route to the House chambers. Although Preston didn’t like Assahd, he made a special effort – out of pride more than courtesy – to point out all the famous portraits and statues of past Presidents and other famous Americans that decorated the building.
As the two walked, Assahd thought that the Capitol building was a structure more fit for a royal family instead of the elected American infidels.
When the two tried to enter the House chambers, the security guards stopped Assahd and took his cane. Preston was irritated by the delay.
“Sir, this is Abdul-Ahad Assahd,” Preston loudly announced to the security detail. “He’s a member of tha Saudi Royal family and a personal guest of mine. How dare y’all humiliate Minister Assahd and his country with this display of contempt? I will personally vouch for his highness.”
The security guard was trying to inspect the cane when he nervously looked at his boss, one of the Secret Servicemen assigned to the event. The boss tapped the walkie-talkie speaker clipped to his jacket lapel. After receiving a brief message from a superior through his ear piece, the Secret Serviceman nodded to the guard. The guard then gave the Oil Minister back his ivory cane and apologized to the guest and the Senator.
“Sorry your Highness. Just standard security procedures.”
“Thank y’all. Security is a necessary evil in a world filled with terror,” Cane Preston sarcastically told the guard and motioned for Abdul-Ahad Assahd to enter the House.
Preston and Assahd walked down the center isle of the House about half way to the podium. Preston had two of his pages hold seats for himself and Assahd on the right side of the gallery looking at the point where the President would speak. Preston let Assahd sit on the aisle seat so that he could have the best view of the President.
“That should make that som-bitch happy,” Preston thought as he and Assahd sat down.
“Perfect seat Senator,” Assahd said after the two sat. “I am grateful for your efforts. This promises to be a very special night.” After arranging his robe so that it wouldn’t tangle with his feet, Assahd carefully placed his cane between his legs. He kept his right hand on the handle of the cane.
. . .
“We’re ready now, Madame President,” Tuesday Bigelow told Stephanie Roosevelt-Hill. “Good luck.” Bigelow hugged the President and stepped back from the doors of the House.
“Are you ready, m’am?” the House Sergeant at Arms Chester Collins asked the President.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, Chester. Let her rip.”
“It’s a great pleasure m’am.” With that, Collins opened the large doors of the chamber and barked his announcement.
“Madame Speaker, the President of the United States.”
That was Roosevelt-Hill’s cue to enter the room. As usual, the cheers and applause were deafening. Roosevelt-Hill gracefully, but powerfully, strode down the aisle. She shook hands with many of her well-wishers. She purposely turned toward Abdul-Ahad Assahd, who graciously shook her hand.
“I know that man hates me,” she thought as she shook his hand and smiled.
“Your reign of terror on my country and the Middle East will soon come to an end.” Assahd thought as he smiled broadly back at her.
After what seemed like several minutes, Roosevelt-Hill made her way to the podium and calmed the crowd, just in time for a second ovation after she was introduced again by Speaker Ebersole.
When the crowd quieted, Roosevelt-Hill started what would become a 57-minute speech. She was interrupted 33 times for standing ovations, the longest for five minutes when she reported on the energy situation.
When she uttered the words, “We have cut the demand for foreign oil by 60 percent in the last six years,” the energy ovation started. “And, I guarantee, that during the year, with the continued help of the great minds of our business community, that number will be reduced to less than 30 percent.”
Preston and Assahd both applauded the President’s remarks with the rest of the gallery. As the applause continued, the television talking heads gave billions-of-barrel counts and lost dollar figures of the Saudi’s to the television audiences.
“It must be terribly hard for Abdul-Ahad Assahd, the Saudi Oil Minister, who is sitting next to the Senator from Texas, Cane Preston, to applaud after that remark,” Shep Smith said as his network’s cameras showed a close-up shot of Assahd and Senator Preston.
“It’s one of the few times a U.S. President has been able to stick it to foreign oil interests,” Smith’s sidekick for the event, Greta Van Susteren added. “And the fact that she’s a woman must really bust his ego.”
As Roosevelt-Hill continued her speech, William Wyckoff was smiling bigger than anyone in the room. The popularity of Roosevelt-Hill had all but assured Wyckoff would be elected the next President.
“How can you not love this woman?” Wyckoff thought as he stood again with the gallery to applaud the President.
Although the speech would not be considered one of Roosevelt-Hills best, the country was captivated as always when she spoke. When she finished, she shook hands with the Speaker and the Vice-President and made her way down from the podium. As she walked, everyone in the room was standing and applauding. Senator Preston applauded as Roosevelt-Hill moved toward them. Abdul-Ahad Assahd was leaning on his cane, appearing weary from all of the standing, but smiling broadly.
“It will be interesting to see any action or reaction between the President and the Saudi Oil Minister, Abdul-Ahad Assahd,” television anchor Smith said to his audience as the President moved closer to the spot where the Saudi stood. “Our cameras will zoom in to give us a good look . . . Oh my God . . . my God . . . nooooo!”
All cameras were locked on the President when without warning, the unthinkable happened. Assahd smiled at Roosevelt-Hill. As she turned to shake his hand, he pulled on the handle of his cane exposing a weapon the shape of an ice pick. With the speed of a lightning strike, he drew the pick up above his shoulder and stabbed the President twice. On the second strike, Assahd let go of the weapon, leaving it sticking out of the lower portion of Roosevelt-Hill’s neck. The lasting image captured by television of the assassination was a spurt of jugular blood spraying the front of Assahd’s white gown.
The cane had penetrated deep into the neck of Roosevelt-Hill, severing the left artery in her neck. With each of Roosevelt-Hill’s fleeting heart beats, a spurt of blood flew out of her neck – and the cameras kept rolling, capturing it all. For one brief moment, before the Secret Service detail swarmed the killer, Assahd just stood there smiling, with Roosevelt-Hills eyes open as wide as saucers.
The secret service detail and others close enough to see what happened formed a pose that would be frozen in time, captured frame by frame by the wonders of television. The pose showed President Stephanie Roosevelt-Hill with the look of horror on her face, an ivory ice pick sticking out of her neck, a spurt of precious blood flying out from her body. The look in the eye’s of those standing around her in the photo were eerily similar to the photograph that stunned the nation on November 24, 1963, when Jack Ruby suddenly shot Lee Harvey Oswald, the accused killer of President John F. Kennedy, while Oswald was in the custody of Federal authorities and the Dallas Police.
In less than two seconds, the secret service had wrestled Assahd to the floor. In the skirmish, a flying elbow struck Senator Preston in the nose and knocked him out cold. Stephanie Roosevelt-Hill slowly fell backward into the arms of two secret servicemen. They laid her gently on the floor and then frantically pushed at the wound, trying to apply pressure to stop the flow of blood. Roosevelt-Hill’s eyes darted back and forth with the look of a scared child, as the life blood leaked from her body. Within seconds, the Vice-President had leapt over his desk and fought his way through the crowd to be at the President’s side. He knelt beside her and placed his large hands under her head as the secret servicemen tried to stop the bleeding. He sobbed openly, something no one had ever seen from the war hero, as the life of Roosevelt-Hill slipped away, and the television cameras captured every second of the event.
Causes John Haslam Supports
I support the Constitution of the United States of America.
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