Shoes… part 2

The following is a work of fiction.
Pure fiction.
It’s sole purpose is give the reader a chance to try on another guy’s shoes.
Maybe see how a different opinion fits.
Or not.

Your name is George W. Bush. You’re sitting behind a massive desk in the oval office of the White House, Washington D.C. You aren’t really sure if you can take your shoes off in here, but it’s stuffy and hey – you’re the president – who’s going to stop you! You slip out of the size 9 1/2 black leather dress shoes and let your feet sink into the plush carpet. Nice. But you wish you had your boots.

You aren’t really sure how you got here, but your dad said if you just did as you were told, listened to all your advisors and did exactly what they said, you’d get through this job with your balls intact and the two of you would make history as the first father and son to each hold the office of President of the United States since the days of John and John Quincy Adams. You always did what your father told you and it always worked out ok.

The first year as President was a little daunting. People were making fun of your speeches. Well, not so much of the speeches themselves but of how you gave them. You told your dad you weren’t a public speaker. Put me on a barstool with a cold beer and I can talk shop with the best of them, I said, but stand me at a podium with lights in my face and make me read out loud from a script and words just trip all over themselves trying to find the shortest route out of my mouth.

And then those stupid towel-heads, (yeah, you know you’re not supposed to call them that but that’s what they are), had to go blow up parts of your cities. They screwed your dad when he was in office and now they’re screwing you. You try to listen to everyone’s input but geez, most of it goes right over your head. What you do understand nobody can agree on. Every person who says they got the answer tells you something different from the guy before. You’d like to do what the people want – but you have no earthly idea what that is. Half the citizens are screaming at you to nuke the whole damned Middle East. The rest are angry and crying and pleading with you to just fix it. Just fix it! Fix it! How!

Nobody prepared you for this. Nobody. This was the United Goddamned States of America! We don’t get bombed!. We do the bombing! This job was turning out to be way harder than you thought. Way harder. The whole world’s watching you. The whole Goddamned world is waiting to see how you handle this, George. Thank God you’ve got all those smart people around to give you the answers.

Man, you hope they have the answers. But you have to admit, right now it’s not looking so good.

One guy you’re supposed to trust says if the military doesn’t catch Bin Laden soon, all the legislators on both sides of the aisle will give up on your administration and then it’s a sure death for you and the party. But Hell, you’ve been chasing Bin laden all over Afghanistan and he’s slippery as snot. You can’t just bomb every cave he’s been sighted in. That’s about the only thing your advisors do agree on – that the US can’t just go bombing anywhere they want in the Middle East.

Then again, the military thinks maybe you can.

Another guy says if we can’t get Bin Laden we need to get somebody. People are demanding justice! And they’re getting impatient.

Your advisors brought up Saddam’s name again. They say he’s got these nucular, nu-clear? however you say it weapons and that we know this for sure because they bought ’em from us. Heh. That’d be right. Well even if he doesn’t still have ’em, he’s bad for business. They showed you intell that says he kills and tortures his own people. He experiments on his own people with nerve gases! Geez.

The cabinet says there’s a plan on how to get the country behind an attack on Iraq. That we might even flush out Bin Laden, or at least scare the crap out of the countries who are hiding him, enough to maybe get them to turn him over to us. That would be great. You promised the people you’d fix this. Whatever it takes. Whatever the cost, you made a promise. They’re counting on you to right this horrible wrong.

You just wish you knew how.