fic: orszagian (peter orszag, rahm emanuel, r)
Title: Orszagian
Author: V.M. Bell
Disclaimer: The American political establishment does not belong to me. Neither does The Onion or the other pop culture references that may or may not be found in this fic.
Summary: A scene from the daily goings-on of the Obama administration, per The Onion. In today's episode: Peter Orszag seeks comfort in literature while Rahm Emanuel flips a shit.
Rating: R for an excess of swearing
Characters: Peter Orszag, Rahm Emanuel
Word Count: 291
Author's Notes: Material entirely drawn from The Onion's The First 100 Days -- I recommend you read that first, if you haven't already. This was originally posted as a comment in rahmbamarama at some ungodly hour of the night instead of writing my paper, which I had been working on for over twelve hours at that point. Perhaps that explains the profane, cracktastic nature of this drabble? All comments, concrit, and reviews welcome!
--
Peter quickly ducks into an empty room and closes the door behind him, relieved that Rahm has given up bothering him about that damned Seder and has instead returned to wrestling with That Envelope in the Oval Office. Peter sits down at the desk and produces from his briefcase the tome that has captivated his imagination ever since he discovered it in his desk drawer during the first day on the job. Sighing happily, he runs his fingers across the embossed gold lettering: Memoirs of a Former Director of the White House Office of Management and Budget Written for a Current Director of the White House Office of Management and Budget. Ooh, how Orszagian, he thinks as he opens to "Chapter Ten: It's the Fucking Economy, Stupid":
"But you don't understand," the fuckard of a Congressman repeated. "Raising the income tax on the top bracket -- "
"Oh, for Christ's sake, what don't you fucking understand?" Growing ever more sick and tired of all those bastards who think that being an elected official somehow endows them all with intellect, I grabbed that son of a bitch by his jacket and pushed him against the fucking wall. "Didn't you mother teach you about fucking income elasticity of demand?"
But a sudden common out in the hallway interrupts Peter's reading, and, rolling his eyes, he sets the book down in order to check on things. As he is opening the door, however, he notices a fuming Rahm stalking up and down the corridor, hands on his hips as terrified interns flee the area. Not wanting to be seen, Peter shuts himself back in the room as Rahm yells, "I have had it with these motherfucking missing Splenda packets disappearing from my motherfucking desk!"
--
Signing off, V.M. Bell
Author: V.M. Bell
Disclaimer: The American political establishment does not belong to me. Neither does The Onion or the other pop culture references that may or may not be found in this fic.
Summary: A scene from the daily goings-on of the Obama administration, per The Onion. In today's episode: Peter Orszag seeks comfort in literature while Rahm Emanuel flips a shit.
Rating: R for an excess of swearing
Characters: Peter Orszag, Rahm Emanuel
Word Count: 291
Author's Notes: Material entirely drawn from The Onion's The First 100 Days -- I recommend you read that first, if you haven't already. This was originally posted as a comment in rahmbamarama at some ungodly hour of the night instead of writing my paper, which I had been working on for over twelve hours at that point. Perhaps that explains the profane, cracktastic nature of this drabble? All comments, concrit, and reviews welcome!
--
Peter quickly ducks into an empty room and closes the door behind him, relieved that Rahm has given up bothering him about that damned Seder and has instead returned to wrestling with That Envelope in the Oval Office. Peter sits down at the desk and produces from his briefcase the tome that has captivated his imagination ever since he discovered it in his desk drawer during the first day on the job. Sighing happily, he runs his fingers across the embossed gold lettering: Memoirs of a Former Director of the White House Office of Management and Budget Written for a Current Director of the White House Office of Management and Budget. Ooh, how Orszagian, he thinks as he opens to "Chapter Ten: It's the Fucking Economy, Stupid":
"But you don't understand," the fuckard of a Congressman repeated. "Raising the income tax on the top bracket -- "
"Oh, for Christ's sake, what don't you fucking understand?" Growing ever more sick and tired of all those bastards who think that being an elected official somehow endows them all with intellect, I grabbed that son of a bitch by his jacket and pushed him against the fucking wall. "Didn't you mother teach you about fucking income elasticity of demand?"
But a sudden common out in the hallway interrupts Peter's reading, and, rolling his eyes, he sets the book down in order to check on things. As he is opening the door, however, he notices a fuming Rahm stalking up and down the corridor, hands on his hips as terrified interns flee the area. Not wanting to be seen, Peter shuts himself back in the room as Rahm yells, "I have had it with these motherfucking missing Splenda packets disappearing from my motherfucking desk!"
--
Signing off, V.M. Bell