SHOO FLY PI

I open the small notebook my captors allow me and review what I had already written. It is something to pass the time, this writing it down. I am allowed no visitors and sparse reading material. I do have hope though, that someday someone will smuggle this little notebook out and the world will know about what happened and I will be set free.

It all began months ago when I was led to a door inside the White House and told to go right in as POTUS was expecting me. The door closed behind me and I found myself in an empty Oval Office. Hearing a scratching sound, I approached the huge desk and discovered a person doubled over inside the knee space underneath.

Giggling happily, the person uncoiled himself, stood up and exclaimed, "Good for you. You found me right off. It was my test to see how good a detective you are. Now, let's get down to business.

"I asked you to come because you are the crack Private Investigator that the FBI and CIA go to when they cannot solve a case. The first and most important thing that must be done is to give you a nickname. Since you always get your man, I'm going to call you 'Mountie-Pi'."

I struggled to contain my surprise and consternation at these words from POTUS, and quickly agreed that Mountie-Pi was fine with me. Then I asked what I could do for him.

"I need you to find the most evil evildoer in the world."

"Do you mean Osma bin Laden?"

"Oh, no. He's small change compared to this guy. You must find out who stole that computer disk from my buddy, Karl Rove and you must do it quickly. We don't want anyone thinking the Al Quida could get into the White House."

POTUS went on. "This evildoer might be either that awful Senator Jeffords or that horrible Senate Majority Leader, Tom Daschle, but my hope is that you can pin it on Bill Clinton. So check out all the evidence and get back to me ASAP with the evildoer's name."

"I'll certainly try to do this quickly, but the trail may be cold by now and take some time to follow. First off, I'll need to have access to Mr. Rove's office and computer."

"You got it.' POTUS pushed a buzzer and Rove came in. "Karl, this is Mountie-Pi, the world famous P.I. Take her to your office and give her everything she asks for."

Rove was most cooperative and soon I was left alone in his office with my P.I. kit and the actual disk in question that had been returned to the White House by the police. I cannot reveal my methods but my quest to find the evil doer took me most of the rest of that day.

Eventually, however, find the culprit I did, and I was ushered back in the Oval Office. This time POTUS met me at the door greatly excited. "Have you got him?" he blurted out excitedly. "Tell me! Tell me his name at once."

"Yes," I answered. "I have the miscreant. Fingerprints and DNA don't lie, but it isn't a him, Sir, it's a her."

"What!" He exploded angrily. "You mean it's not Jeffords or Daschal or Clinton?" He slammed his fist on the desk and suddenly turned to me and said, "It's a her? You mean it's Hillary Clinton? That would be even better."

"Ah, no Sir, it's not Senator Clinton."

"Then who is it? Speak up, Mountie-Pi. Who is the evil doer? Give me her name."

"Her name is Karen Hughes, Sir."

"What?! Are you sure?" he yelled and then his face crumpled up and he sat down on the floor sobbing. "Oh, no! It can't be Moma-Karen. It just can't be."

The Oval Office was suddenly full of people who had heard him screaming, "Uncle Dick, Uncle Dick. I need Uncle Dick to come here right away." An intern and 6 Secret Service agents led me down the hall to a waiting room and surrounded me. They asked me what I did to POTUS.

I told them, but they didn't believe me. Then the Vice-POTUS (Uncle Dick) came in and told the SS agents to hand me over to AG Ashcroft. He turned me over to SOD Rumsfeld and I was taken to Gitmo, the Cuban base where the Afghani prisoners were. I had been designated by POTUS as AN ENEMY COMBATANT, no charges, no legal rights and no trial.

I am forgotten -- a person abandoned by her country. All that is left to me is a notebook, the ocean breeze and my hopes as the sun sets on this island. I watch the flag shaking in the wind and think of the lines I learned so long ago in school:

"What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
"O say, does that Star-Spangled Banner yet wave
"O'ER THE LAND OF THE FREE and the home of the brave?"

twanda@twanda.org       

2002-025

Copyright 2002 Renee T. Louise and Ruth M. Sprague, Ph.D. These articles may be republished for noncommercial use only, provided that they are copied intact, and that this copyright notice is attached. Address all queries to: twanda@twanda.org.