My Love; My Life: Slipping Through My Fingers

C: Carl

*Halley Wolowitz*
*8:14 horrible histories Winston Churchill compilation-you don't have to watch it, but it basically helps those who don't know about him, to understand the repeated reference to him that are made.*

setting: Bar where Carl works...

    Carl stands behind the bar cleaning glasses & filling orders as they come, while watching the news on tv in between as the crisis unfolds...

     Secret service and local police are still searching for as the people continue to panic at the knowledge of our president's disappearance from the White House without anyone's noticing. We do have confirmation that Air Force one is gone as well, leading all to assume that President Hyla Cooper was either kidnaped and being held hostage one the plane-or the more likely scenario, that she may have gone A. W. O. L...she was discovered to be M. I. A. late last night. We were told that she usual stays up all hours of the night working on various new bills and such-only allowing herself as little as an hour or two of sleep a night, this would explain why President Cooper has been out out of commission two weeks a year or so-she's a regular Winston Churchill of our time. It is suspected that she may possibly have disappeared due to stress as well as possible sleep deprivation...back to you Kent

"Thanks Marsha-"

"Gimme a vodka in pink lemonade on da rocks," a familiar voice come from a near by bar stool

"Hows bout a Shirley temple on the rocks 'n' a bed ta crash in?" He tells her not looking up from the glass he's drying, but knowing exactly who it is, "pretzels," he says putting a a small basket of them in front of her, "Shirley temple on the rocks-"

"I said vodka in lemonade on the rocks," she snaps, "don't y'all know how ta treat yer President..."

"Don't y'all know better than ta run way from yer problems?" He counters, "thought aunt E taught ya better-"

"Y'all try been President," she snarls at him

"Huh," he sighs heavily as he rolls his eyes, "stereotypical bartenders listen ta customers problems," he notes to her, "not all actual bartenders do that shit," he adds in, "but, lucky you-I'm one of those stereotypes-so shoot."

"Y'all ain't loud ta tell nobody," she tells him, "got it?"

"Bartenders ain't tell nothin ta nobody-now spill."

"A country tipped off my last dictator take down," she starts off, "cause theys ain't actually think I'd succeed in the take downs," she explains, "so nows said country wants ta start world war three cause theys think I'll go back on my word ta not touch em-"

"Russia n China?"

"Yep...so now I gotta prepare fer possible war, rethink my tactics in takin out china, keep up with my everyday schedule and deal with these strange ass feelins I ain't understandin."

"Dish cowgirl."

"I only trust one person in my staff at the White House," she tells him, "theys gotta sweetheart, theys think wes gotten too close, I's gotta an ache in mys chest I's can't explain."

"Well I ain't go answers on fer ya on the President stuff," he tells her, "but I may be able ta explain dat achin in yer chest," he adds in, "if I had ta guess," he starts, "and if I's gost it right," he says, "then I'd say that unlike us 'lesser IQs' y'all just now gost yer first crush n were rejected..."

"Rejected..." she repeats quietly, she knew of the word but the feeling of it is completely new to her, "how long'll it last fer?"

"Ain't know," he states, "it's different fer everybody," he tells her as he slides a drink down the bar to someone, "may hurt fer a bit, but it'll eventually numb out n go way in time."