FLYING HIGH WITH COMMANDER BILLY JEFF
"A Scenario"
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Billy Jeff put on the epaulettes and looked in the mirror. "Now I truly am a Commander!" he exclaimed. "Commander Billy Jeff!"
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"The Commander" snuck out back behind the White House to puff on a cigar. "I sure do hope Hillary doesn't find out!"
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The wind wreaked havoc on his $200 hairdo. "Aw darnit, anyway!" he groaned. "Oh well. I'll just open a $200 line of credit and get another haircut!"
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Commander Billy Jeff threw down the old stogie. "Say. I sure am horny," he thought.
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Marie, the new White House maid, was dusting the Lincoln Bedroom. She wore the latest skimpy French maid's outfit. Commander Billy Jeff entered the bedroom, shut the door, and locked it behind him. He pulled down his pants. "Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Marie. "I am not paid for thees!"
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The Commander advanced toward Marie. "Come here, Frenchy. It's a matter of national security," he ordered.
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Marie ran around the advancing Billy Jeff and his erect member, narrowly escaping his grasping paws. She tried opening the door -- but it was locked! He was in hot pursuit!
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The door was unlocked from the other side. In walked Hillary. "Thank Heaven!" thought Marie. "That bitch ruined my fun," muttered Billy Jeff.
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Marie escaped, at least for the time being. Hillary spoke to the Commander: "For God's sake, pull your pants up, will you? You're supposed to be an intellectual, remember?"
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Hillary came closer. "Say, what's that I smell?" she asked. "Why it smells like a stinky old cigar!" Billy Jeff began to cower. "I, I, I..."
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Hillary exploded. "Billy Jeff!" she shrieked. "You know you're only allowed to smoke marijuana in here!" She socked Billy Jeff hard -- POW! -- right in his now-wilting member.
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He sure didn't look like any "Commander" now, not moaning on the floor with his pants down, holding his pained member, in the Lincoln Bedroom of the White House. Hillary stalked out in a huff. "Oh gee whiz. That bitch is always ruining my fun," he blubbered as the tears fell down his face.
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After a few minutes, Commander Billy Jeff felt a little better. A happy thought occurred to him: "Hey! My brother Roger is in town with his hillbilly band!"
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The Commander picked up the phone. "Secret Service? Get some limousines out back, pronto. It's a diplomatic mission."
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Riding in the back of a limousine, on the way to the seedy side of town where Roger's hillbilly band was playing a "gig", Billy Jeff poured himself a tall, cool whisky sour. "Say, can't you go any faster?!" he snapped at the driver.
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The limousine pulled up in front of a cheap tavern in the seedy side of town. "Keep the motor running, and put it on my line of credit!" laughed Billy Jeff as he exited the limousine.
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But Roger wasn't there! "Dog-gonnit! I wanted to have some fun!" complained Commander Billy Jeff. The bartender and one old boozer were the only other ones inside the bar.
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"Where's Roger and his hillbilly band?" inquired Billy Jeff.
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"Aw, those guys? They were shit," said the bartender. "Those bums couldn't make it even if they were the President's relatives! We threw those bums out last night."
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Commander Billy Jeff felt his ears turn red. He was getting very angry. "Threw them out... threw them out..." he fumed.
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A black cloud seemed to form over Billy Jeff's head. "...threw them out..."
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He advanced toward the bartender. "Say," he said very quietly. "You can't throw people around like that. Don't you know that's illegal?"
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The bartender looked up from where he was polishing glasses. "Huh?" he asked.
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Billy Jeff stood full up against the bar. "Don't you know that's illegal? Don't you know we can be 'tough on crime'?" he uttered venomously.
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The bartender began to look worried. "Hey. We cancelled them, that's all."
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Billy Jeff gave the nod to the old boozer down at the end of the bar, then left the tavern.
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The "old boozer" pulled a pistol with silencer from his coat, strode swiftly up to the bartender and shot him dead, right between the eyes.
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He removed the silencer, then placed the pistol in the now dead bartender's right hand. Another "suicide".
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Back in the limousine, Commander Billy Jeff was on the phone with Dee Dee, his press liaison. "What's on the schedule?" he asked.
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"We've arranged it that the media is going to discover you at a bookstore. You are going to be surprised by them as you exit with an armful of books."
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"Say," mused The Commander, "will I get to make a speech?"
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"No!! Please, not that... er, I mean uh, no. Given that you have been discovered by surprise, a speech wouldn't look right."
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"Oh, darn... Hey, you think maybe I can give a speech later on? How about to some poor rubes in some hick town... Hey! Like Galesburg, Illinois! Aren't I scheduled for there?"
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"Sure," answered Dee Dee. "Those small-town bozos will be so amazed at your visit that we can get them to act enthusiastic. No problem."
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The limousine pulled up at a local bookseller's. The camera crews were already setting up when Billy Jeff entered the store. Rita Braver watched in worshipful silence.
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Fifteen minutes later, Commander Billy Jeff exited the store with an armful of books. Rita Braver reported, live: "Gosh, Dan. What a surprise! Quite by chance we have this live video of Commander Billy Jeff finishing up some shopping here at a local book store. Gosh! I'm all ga-ga! I feel just like a teenage girl!"
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Billy Jeff paused before entering the limo. He looked off into the distance, as if he was seeing some vast future. Rita Braver almost swooned. Dan Blather cut in to ask, "Rita, is it true that Billy Jeff is a Yale man?"
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Rita, always the "professional", pulled out of her swoon. "That's correct, Dan. He (like myself, I blush to add) attended elite universities. We are, if I do say so myself, the creme de la creme. (That's French, you know.)"
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The limousine, with Commander Billy Jeff inside, drove off into the sunset. Rita Braver wrapped it all up: "And there you have it. I'm going to buy a bunch of teenage magazines and have a pajama party. Back to you, Dan."
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Back at the White House, Billy Jeff sat in the oval office, drumming his fingers on the table. This moment of reverie did not last long. "Say, I sure am hungry," he said.
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He picked up the phone and called down to the White House kitchen.
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Chef Pierre answered the phone. "Oui?"
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"Say, Pierre, how's about rustlin' me up some grub?"
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"Ah, oui... Monsieur is hungry."
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"Oui, oui, Pierre. I sure could go for some of that fine French cooking. Like, you know, maybe some French hamburgers and some French fries."
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"Ah, but of course! Commander Beeley Jeff, I weel get right on eet."
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Chef Pierre hung up the phone, but did not rise from his chair. "Eh, Louie!" he called.
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Louie, the assistant chef, looked up. "Oui?"
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"Meester Potato Head ees hungry. Go to zee McDonalds for zee fine French cooking."
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Commander Billy Jeff finished the last of the hamburgers that Louie had brought. He wiped his mouth. "No one can cook a hamburger like the French!" he belched. "I just love that fine French cooking!"
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The phone rang. It was Billy Jeff's old buddy from Arkansas, Dan Lizard! "Hey, Billy Jeff!" said Dan. "Get on the Air Force One and get down here! We're havin' a wild cocaine party! There's tons of high school chicks!"
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"Hot dog!" replied the Commander. "Cocaine party! High school chicks! I'm on my way!"
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Commander Billy Jeff called down to the Secret Service. "Hey, Secret Service! Fire up Air Force One and get me a 'copter on the front lawn! I'm on a diplomatic investigative mission to Arkansas!"
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Hillary caught sight of Marie, the French maid. "Come here, Marie," she purred. Marie dutifully obeyed.
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"I note your conduct in the Lincoln Bedroom with my husband, Billy Jeff," said Hillary.
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"But Meez Heely! He was chasing me!"
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Hillary ignored her. "You're fired, you slut! Pack your bags and get on the first train back to France!"
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"But Meez Heely..."
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Hillary glared. "Don't back sass me girl, or I'll scratch your eyes out! Go pack your bags! You're fired! Get out!"
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Marie ran off, sobbing.
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The Commander was in Air Force One, flying down to Arkansas and Dan Lizard's promised wild party.
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Billy Jeff looked up, and was surprised to see Dylan Thomas! The deceased author was somehow standing there, smoking a cigarette.
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"Let's 'rap', Mr. Thomas," suggested Billy Jeff. "Come on, what do ya say? I'm an intellectual, just like you. Hey, ya know what else -- I'm a Yale man."
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"You are a pimp. Bend over, so I can grind out my cigarette on your ass," the dead author replied.
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"Say! You can't talk to me like that!" shouted Billy Jeff. But then the room became filled with, it seemed like, thousands of faces, all of them burning with great hatred for Commander Billy Jeff!
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Billy Jeff woke, screaming. "Igor! Igor!"
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"Igor" Stephanopoulos came rushing from the forward cabin of Air Force One. "Yes, master?!" he inquired, alarmed.
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"Oh, Igor, it was terrible! Dylan Thomas said I was a pimp, and then everybody hated me! They hate me, Igor! They hate me!"
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Igor sat down beside Billy Jeff and consoled him. "No, master. No, they don't hate you! They love you!"
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"No, Igor, they hate me! The American people all hate me!"
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"Why no, master. Why, look out the window. Down there in America they all love you!"
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"They do?" blubbered Billy Jeff.
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"Yes!" lied Igor. "Everybody loves you!" Then, because it usually assuaged the frightened Billy Jeff, Igor suggested they both sing their special song. "Come on! Let's sing the old Oxford song!"
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"Yes!" Billy Jeff clapped his hands excitedly. "The old Oxford song!"
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They both began to sing:
Oh Oxford, we remember you.
Smoking pot and chasing chicks
And even sometimes we'd
Open a book or two!
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They exploded in laughter. "I feel better now!" exclaimed Billy Jeff.
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Billy Jeff lurched forward towards the cockpit. "I want to see the view from up there," he explained.
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He entered the cockpit, where Captain "Flyin' Jack" McCord was piloting Air Force One toward Arkansas and Dan Lizard's cocaine party.
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"Wow... Look at all those controls," said the Commander. He paused a moment, then asked, "Say... Do you think you could let me fly the plane for awhile?"
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Old "Flyin' Jack", veteran pilot of so many C-130 flights between Arkansas and Nicaragua, turned toward Billy Jeff. His jaw dropped in amazement. "You've gotta be kidding."
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"Naw... Come on. Let me try flyin' it."
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"No way."
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Billy Jeff moved toward Flyin' Jack. A look of menace appeared in his eye. "Say... You look depressed, Captain McCord. You're not about to commit 'suicide' are you?"
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"O.K. You can fly the plane." Flyin' Jack vacated his seat and Commander Billy Jeff occupied it.
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Billy Jeff lit a marijuana cigarette and took a deep drag. He looked toward Flyin' Jack. "You want a hit?" he asked.
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"No, thanks," replied McCord.
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"Suit yourself." The Commander took another drag. "Say... Where's the accelerator on this crate?"
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Flyin' Jack showed him the throttle, and Billy Jeff opened it up all the way. Air Force One began to pick up speed.
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"Hey! This steering wheel not only turns, but it can also tilt toward me!" exclaimed a surprised Billy Jeff as the aircraft went into a steep climb.
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"Yahoo! We're flyin' high!" shouted Commander Billy Jeff as he took another puff on his "reefer".
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"Hey... You know, in theory, we could fly this baby way high! I mean, in theory, we could go into outer space!" theorized Billy Jeff.
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But just then a squawking sound began to be heard on the "squawk box". It was Hillary!
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"Billy Jeff! Get me Billy Jeff!" she ordered.
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"I'm right here, my dearest," replied Commander Billy Jeff.
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"Billy Jeff! Turn that plane around NOW!! That is an order, Mister!"
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"Aw but, my sweetest, I'm on an important diplomatic mission!"
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"Save that shit for the newspapers!" screamed "Meez Heely". "You've promised to attend the Econo-Feminists meeting, and the sisterhood ain't gonna like it if you don't show. So turn that plane around now, or there's gonna be Hell to pay!! Over and out!"
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A reluctant Commander Billy Jeff yielded to this "higher power" and relinquished control of Air Force One to Flyin' Jack McCord.
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"Aw gee whiz! I never get to have any fun," he complained to no one in particular.
Coming to you from Illinois -- "The Land of Skolnick"