Hillary Clinton's Perfect Man

    By Kevin Schmitt

Be advised that this work of fiction was not created to suggest that magical forces exist within the Democratic Party. Of course if they did, it might explain one or two things.

  

The foot sore guest in the Akris Punto took stock of her surroundings as her traveling staff filed in with the luggage. The Conrad in Chicago was the kind of place that the average American dreamed of visiting at least once in a lifetime. For the former First Lady, it was a nice place to catch her second wind before resuming her place on a political treadmill that was more to her liking than the mechanical kind. Hillary Rodham Clinton had planned her short visit to The Windy City to be just that: short. She was on Obama’s turf and even though the ranks of the disillusioned were growing, Chicago would never be the best place to pitch a new deal, despite the fact that she actually grew up in one of the suburbs.

 “When is my meeting with John Cullerton?” she asked while gazing out the patio door to see if the rain clouds were getting closer.

 “I arranged for him to meet downstairs for after dinner cocktails,” the secretary informer her.

 “Ok, he’s safe to drink with. Now let’s turn all our phones off for a couple of hours while I soak my feet and read a few letters. I know this place doesn’t look like one, but let’s try and capture the atmosphere of a Buddhist temple just before the chanting begins.”

 One phone managed to ring before its owner could put it to sleep and the youthful aide looked as though she had been caught stealing chocolates.

 Clinton shrugged slightly.

 “Ok, you can answer that one. Then it’s all quiet until my corns soften.”

 The woman smiled and placed the latest techno gadget to a shell like ear.

 “How can I help you?”

 

Continued,  CLICK

 http://beforekevlarcontinuations.blogspot.com/2014/09/continued-hillary-clintons-perfect-man.html