National Nitwit

Guest editorial by Melissa Ogrodowski, crystal afficianado

I first met "Dan" - that's what he likes me to call him, but I know he's really the Vice-President - way back in 1999. I was working H Street, just past Chinatown, when this silver Lexus puls up, and a Popeye-looking dude with sunglasses just grins at me.

"Gots money, I'm in," I think to myself. Little did I know that I would one day be carrying this man's love child.

We had some great times together, me and Dick. He'd give me a bunch of cash, and I'd score some snow, and he'd watch as I got good and stoked up. He never snorted it, but sometimes he liked to lick it off my chest. Then we'd go racing around DC with a Secret Service agent behind the wheel, me going down on him while he talked on the secure cell with NSA geeks.

Once we actually did it in the Oval Office. The President was out of town on a campaign stop, and we went at it right there on the desk. Dick made me call him "Mr. President" as he slammed into me: "Oh, MR. PRESIDENT! YOU"RE SO HA-A-A-ARD!" Shit like that.

Sometimes, though, Dick got a little weird on me, like black dildo kind of weird. I mean - whatever the client wants, right? But when he made me shove it up his ass without lubrication while whispering in his ear: "Condi's giving it to you BAD!" - that was just too much.

But now that he knocked me up, he won't return my calls or anything. I just get this envelope with $1000 and the number to an abortion clinic delivered to me last week. No name, no card, no flowers.

Of course I spent that shit in about 12 minutes with one phone call to Tino. We partied like it was two thousand and 99, y'all.

And the kid? Listen - it's a hard world. My mom drank like a fucking Shriner while she carried me, and I turned out OK. Fuck it, I'm out.

Labels: crystal, Dick Cheney, meth