“Someone posted a condom stuffed with dog turd through our letterbox this morning. Dumbledore got confused, bless him, and thought it was an exciting new chew toy. And that’s the story of how we’re going to have to get a new couch.”
“And after that?” I ask, back in my chair with my jeans sticking to me.
“Well-” He turns toward one of the Secret Service men.
The man nods.
“Back to one hundred words a day?” I say.
“Actually, Dr. McClellan -and I’m telling you this in strict confidence, understand?- actually, we’ll be increasing the quota at some point in the future. Once everything gets back on course.”
Well, this is new. I wait to see what other confidential tidbits he’s got up his sleeve.
“Someone posted a condom stuffed with dog turd through our letterbox this morning. Dumbledore got confused, bless him, and thought it was an exciting new chew toy. And that’s the story of how we’re going to have to get a new couch.”
