Weekly Sitdown at HQ

Time: Spring, 2008

Scene: Oval Office, Morning

Having lost all need for pretense, Capo George “Big G” Bush arrives at gang headquarters wearing a black suit, black shirt and broad white tie. He wears spats and carries a jaunty cane, which he slaps on the pool table to awaken Captain Dick “The Scowl” Cheney from a spell of hypoxia. Big G sets his black fedora on the refrigerator, opens the door and pulls out a frosty Bud. Unscrewing the cap, he looks at the long table running the length of the office.

“We got any cannoli? Where the fuck’s the cannoli?”

“Right here, right here,” mutters Don “The Torque” Rumsfeld, pushing a tray toward Big G.

G nods his head derisively.

“Real nice, real nice, Torque,” he says. “Maybe you’ll show a little more fuckin’ respect if I break your fuckin’ head for you.”

The Scowl breaks in. “What’s up today? We got somethin’ more pressing than fuckin’ cannoli to talk about?”

G gives The Scowl a long look. “Sorry, didn’t know it was that time of month.”

Josh “The Shutter” Bolten strolls around G at the head of the table, taking pictures of G’s hands from different angles.

“Think you got enough fuckin’ pictures of my hands, Bolten?” G tosses his head at Bolten, his cheeks bulging with cannoli. “What’s wid dis guy?”

“What’s the body count on Iraq?” the Scowl cuts in.

“Who gives a fuck?” G says. “You and yer fuckin’ numbers.”

“5 grand and change,” John “Black Bridge” Negroponte says.

“That’s what happens when ya go to the mattresses,” G says. “No broke eggs, no omelettes. Where’s Halliburton stock? Anybody runnin’ the numbers?”

“Trew da roof,” breaks in Bolten.

G smiles, tossing his head at Bolten. "Get a load. Talkin’ like a wiseguy now, huh? Dat’s real good, Josh. Why don’t you take a picture of my ass next?”

“Hey Scowl,” G says. “You welsh on that Halliburton deal we made, and you’ll be standin on the bottom of the Potomac, capisc’?”

“Who’s welshin?” the Scowl scowls. “You’ll get your cut, same as always.”

“Sweet. Okay, what else we got? Say, Black Bridge, you oughta know. How you say ‘Our Thing’ in Eye-talian?”

“Cosa nostra,” Black Bridge answers. “Why?”

“I like that. Runnin this thing's Our Thing, huh? Anything else? Okay, I’ll be over at the social club with Lacquer Head if you need me.”