Nixon sat back, lit a fat cigar, and rested his legs on the mahogany desk of the Oval Office. The view from the office was astounding, a spacious field filled with luscious grass dominating the intial view while the hustle and bustle of downtown D.C ringed the horizon. "Well?" Nixon snapped at Mao Zedong, who was sucking his latest pile of trade agreements. "Get outta here, we can't be seen." With a lazy flick of his wrist and a dismissive glance, Nixon shooed the Chinese leader out of his office, soon to be sent back.
"Ah," Nixon sighed. This is the fucken life. All the power, none a the responsibilities. Any suspicions, forge a coupla papers, threaten some families, whoosh! Donesi-A figure clad in a designer suit and shining loafers darkened Nixon's doorway, interrupting his diabolical inner monologue. "Tsugi ni omeawa 'Who the hell are you?', moving so fast he appeared to be a blur, he lightly tapped Nixon's nose before reappearing in front of his window. "toyu!" Nixon instinctively pulled out his Tommy gun, but it was for naught. Once again blurring out of sight, he expertly dodged Nixon's lawsuit bullets and landed on his desk, as lightly as a fairy. "Who the hell are you!" Nixon cried, pointing a shaking finger at the man on his desk. "I...am your worst nightmare. I possess a power that puts you to shame. The power...of NIGERUYANDO!" The figure revealed himself. White hair and wrinkled belied a sturdy and well muscled frame that burst at the seams. "BEN BRADLEE!" Nixon screamed. Shit, I've got myself into a pickle now. When you've got Ben Bradlee on your case, there's not escape.
"Will you come quietly, or will I have to resort to..." He began stroking Nixon's documents, eliciting a quiet groan from the commander in chief. "more draconian methods. If this was Bradlee's definition of draconian, than Nixon liked draconian. If I can keep the bastard distracted, we can end this right here, right now, Nixon thought, shrewdly grinning before noticing that Bradlee had donned his mask once more. "OAUOOOOgH!" Nixon screamed as Ben filed through his forged court documents. Thoroughly investigating every possible use of legalese, Bradlee sent Nixon cavorting in pleasure. At this point, Nixon didn't care about the consequences of his actions. All he wanted was the thick, juicy justice of Ben Bradlee's trademark editorial skill. But before he was finshed, Bradlee stepped away from Nixon, only slightly flustered compared to before. Nonetheless, his arrogant, smug demeanor remained. "Paulie? Send the footage to c-span. Nixon gasped, truly understanding the purpose of the event. Bradlee put his mask on once more to disguise his identity. "Now everyone's seen your wrongdoing, Nixon. The waters of justice have overcome your fragile gate of treachery and deceit." Bradlee said, walking out with a seductive gait. Nixon lay there, covered with the white scraps of paper Bradlee had left on him.
He was fucked.
