Maddie let out a sigh of exasperation. “I can’t believe this. Why does everything have to be sexual?”
“What?” Bernard looked up from his menu, obviously confused.
“Look at this Bernie. They have orgasmic fruit.”
Bernard paused. “Maddie, Maddie,” he shook his head. “That’s organic fruit.”
“Oh,” Maddie said, her outrage quickly fading. “Well in that case, I’ll just have the poached eggs.”
“Who was that guy in Popeye who would gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today?” Bernard asked
“Wimpy?” I suggested.
“Yeah! That’s our former frat boy. Making promises about how we’ll pick up the tab for whatever ails anyone who gets his sympathy. Now he’s going to bail out a couple of mortgage companies that were privatized – at least they were private until they got into trouble. Now they’re the responsibility of us taxpayers. Private when they make a profit. Public when they lose money. Now that’s a sweet business to get into.”
“You should not talk about the president that way,” Maddie rebuked her older brother.
“’Former frat boy?’ What? Did I get that wrong? He’s actually still in a fraternity? Because that would explain so much,” Bernard said, spinning one half of his bagel while patiently chewing. “You think that his entire presidency has just been a series of drunken dares? A hazing ritual gotten out of control?”
“Bernie!” Maddie said sharply. “Do you have champagne in that orange juice?”
“Maddie, when are you going to give up on your boy?”
“He is the president,” Maddie said.
“Now that’s a sad truth,” Bernard sighed.
Later, Bernard shook his head. “George’s trick of spending like a drunken sailor while putting everything on the bar tab just doesn’t stimulate any more. It’s one thing for a 25 year old woman to show a little cleavage to stimulate attention – it is quite another for a 125 year old woman to try it. After a while, some things just don’t work. All indications are that the economy is tired of his stimulation trick and just sees his trick as further proof that trouble is brewing.”
“Stimulation,” Maddie said. “Why does everything have to be sexual?”
“If only it were,” Bernard sighed, "if only it were. Then we could have impeached that frat boy.”