The Brief and Frightening Reign of Phil (7 page)

The smiley Advisor lowered his eyes and one of his smiles turned sad.

“Oh,” said the President. “How well I remember those distant times just this morning, when you all so reverently dressed me. I will never forget those times. I thank you for them. And Al? I’m not so sure about this Phil fellow. Careful, Al. This Phil, he’s a little frightening. He gets things done, yes, but—”

“Excuse me, sir,” said the mirror-faced Advisor. “I would ask you not to insult our President.”

“That could be construed as treasonous,” said the smiley Advisor.

“Ah,” said the former President. “I see.”

Then President Phil and his Advisors briskly left the former site of the Presidential Palace, which was now just a patch of extravagant flooring in the middle of a vast garden.

“Where to, Mr. President?” said the mirror-faced Advisor.

“To the Presidential Palace, of course,” said Phil. “For my Inauguration, and my Inaugural Party.”

“How wonderful!” said the mirror-faced Advisor. “A President who loves a good party.”

“That former President?” said the smiley Advisor. “Never threw parties.”

“Never once,” said the mirror-faced Advisor, who had, at one of the former President’s frequent parties, gone overboard on glass cleaner and temporarily blinded himself, then bashed into the smiley-faced Advisor, sustaining a hairline crack between his eyes, about which he was still self-conscious.

“To the Presidential Palace!” shouted the Advisor who was just a mouth and a wig, throwing back his head so energetically that his wig flew off, and he therefore briefly became just a mouth.

*  *  * 

At the new Presidential Palace, which was just the walls of the former Presidential Palace propped against Phil’s apartment and crookedly capped with the golden dome, the Inaugural Party ran late into the night. The Outer Hornerites, deeply proud to be Outer Hornerites, staggered from wall to wall, overfilling their toluene receptacles and bellowing their national drinking song, “Large, Large, Large, Beloved Land (If Not the Best, Why So Very Dominant?).”

The Special Friends sat in a corner, wearing headphones, listening to personalized Tapes of Praise, made for them by Phil.

“Oh jeez,” said Jimmy, too loudly. “He just said I have great biceps!”

“He just said, about me?” said Vance, also too loudly. “That he loves the focused look I get on my face when following an order.”

“He likes the way my lats flare when I pick someone up!” shouted Jimmy.

“I work well with others!” shouted Vance.

“There’s a deep intelligence in me that others rarely see!” shouted Jimmy.

At the wild peak of the night, Phil mounted Jimmy’s shoulders and, raising his Phalen Extender in a spastic victory salute, knocked off his own brain, which dropped into a bowl of chips.

“My people!” he shouted in the stentorian voice. ” I shall speak now of us! Who are we? We are an articulate people, yet a people of few words. We feel deeply, yet refrain from embarrassing displays of emotion. Though firm, we are never too firm, though we love fun, we never have fun in a silly way that makes us appear ridiculous, unless that is our intent. Our national coloration, though varied, is consistent. Everything about us is as it should be, for example, we can be excessive, when excess is called for, and yet, even in our excess, we show good taste, although never is our taste so super-refined as to seem precious. Even the extent to which we are moderate is moderate, except when we have decided to be immoderately moderate, or even shockingly flamboyant, at which time our flamboyance is truly breathtaking in a really startling way, and when we decide to make mistakes, our mistakes are as big and grand and irrevocable as any nation’s colossal errors, and when we decide to deny our mistakes, we sound just as if we were telling the truth, and when we decide to admit our errors, we do so in a way that is truly moving in its extreme frankness! Am I making sense? Am I saying this well?”

“Yes you are!” said Larry. “You’re saying it very well!”

“Yes I am!” said Phil. ” My saying it so well proves what I have just been saying, namely, that our ancient noble stock has, over many centuries of right living, evolved into the highest and most advanced nation there is, a nation that has, after many years of misrule by that chubby old guy, finally gotten the leader it deserves! That chubby old guy, in addition to being criminally forgetful, was recklessly flagrant. Knowing these Inner Hornerites were prone to unmotivated spasms of violence, he daily proclaimed, via that pathetic mere string of a border: Come in, invade us, feel free to commit your unmotivated violence spasms all over our sleeping innocent babies, while I obsess about my bellies and mustaches. Well, I am not flagrant or forgetful, I have one belly and no mustache, and my only obsession is the safety of my people, which is why I hereby proclaim, as my first Presidential Act, my innovative Border Area Improvement Initiative! Who is on board? Who will sign this Certificate of Total Approval, sanctioning my Initiative?”

“What does it say, sir?” said Melvin.

“Why do you care what it says, Melvin?” said Larry. ” Don’t you trust Phil?”

“Of course I trust Phil,” said Melvin. “I trust Phil like twice as much as you trust Phil.”

“Then why are you resisting signing the Certificate of Total Approval?” said Larry.

“Give me that thing, I’ll sign it,” said Melvin. “I’ll sign it right now, without even reading it.”

“I’ll sign it without even looking at it,” said Larry.

“I’ll sign it with my eyes closed,” said Leon the Border Guard.

“I’ll sign it with my eyes closed, facing away from it,” said Melvin.

So Larry and Melvin and Leon and the Special Friends and the Advisors lined up facing backwards, eyes closed, and signed the Certificate of Total Approval.

Even Freeda signed it, because everybody was staring at her.

“Excellent, Freeda, thanks so much!” said Phil. “All have signed. All Totally Approve of my Border Area Improvement Initiative. Although Freeda? Too bad you didn’t sign it with your eyes closed while facing away from it. Not that I mind! You signed it, which is what matters, basically, I guess.”

Just then from out in the street someone cleared his throat so loudly that the bowl of chips bearing Phil’s brain fell off the table, causing Phil’s brain to roll under the couch.

“BUG CARRIES BREAD CRUMB!” shouted someone from outside. “OTHER BUGS LOOK ON IN AWED SILENCE!”

” WATER RUNS DOWNHILL TOWARDS SEWER!” shouted a second voice.

“AIR CONTINUES TO FLOAT AROUND, BEING BREATHED BY MANY!” shouted a third.

Looking out, Phil saw three handsome well-groomed squat little men with detachable megaphones growing out of their clavicles.

“MAN REGARDS STRANGERS IN STREET!” shouted the first little man.

“What are you guys doing?” asked Phil.

“MAN ASKS QUESTION, EXPECTS ANSWER!” said the third little man.

“MAJOR MEDIA FIGURES PREPARE TO RESPOND!” said the first man.

“IS THE MEDIA HELD TOO MUCH ACCOUNTABLE?” said the second.

“We ‘re with the media,” said the first man, in a normal tone of voice that issued not from the megaphone but from a toothy smile near his rear end.

“Not much happening out here,” said the second man. “So we’re just practicing.”

“In case someday something does happen,” said the third little man.

“SKY REMAINS DARK AS NIGHT PROCEEDS!” said the first little man.

“Good one,” said the second.

“WE’RE WITH THE MEDIA”

“I felt that was an important issue,” said the first.

“MAJOR MEDIA FIGURE COMPLIMENTED BY SECOND MAJOR MEDIA FIGURE!” said the second little man.

“MAJOR MEDIA FIGURE ANNOUNCES COMPLIMENTING OF MAJOR MEDIA FIGURE BY SECOND MEDIA FIGURE!” shouted the third little man.

“IS THE MEDIA TOO FOCUSED ON THE MEDIA?” shouted the second little man.

“DOG PEES ON SHRUB, LOOKS ASKANCE AT OWN REAR!” shouted the first little man.

“You should come out to the Border Area tomorrow,” Phil said. “Big things happening out there. We’re dealing with a violent, irrational people who really hate us. The nation just Totally Approved my Border Area Improvement Initiative. So tomorrow we Implement. It won’t be easy. Lots of heavy lifting. We’ve already accomplished a number of painful, difficult security-related tasks, but tomorrow we’ll be attempting the most painful, difficult task of all. It would be super to have some skillful truth-tellers out there, encouraging the nation in its critical hour of destiny. I’d be happy to pay your expenses and a small stipend.”

“Wait a minute,” said the first little man. ” Is that the Presidential Cravat you’re wearing?”

“Oh my God,” said the second little man. “Are you the President?”

“I thought the President was that little fat guy with the mustaches,” said the third little man.

“That was the old President,” said Phil.

The little media men were amazed and gratified that this new President possessed such a nuanced understanding of the vital role of the media, unlike the old President, who used to claim that their attempts to keep the nation informed made his bursitis worse and shattered the Presidential Cups in the Presidential Cupboard.

“NEW PRESIDENT VOWS TO ELIMINATE BORDER THREAT!” shouted the first little man.

“NEW PREZ TO NATION: YOU SHALL KNOW PEACE!” shouted the second.

“WHAT TIME SHOULD WE BE THERE?” shouted the third, who then realized he was presenting his personal views as the objective view of the media and asked his question more ethically, by asking it out the mouth near his rear.

“Things tend to start around dawn,” said Phil.

“Then we’d better get practicing,” said the third.

“MOON, STARS CONTINUE TO BE LOCATED IN SKY!” shouted the first little man.

“NEIGHBOR LADY DRAWS BLINDS WITH CRABBY LOOK ON FACE!” shouted the second.

“EXCLUSIVE SERIES ON BORDER AREA STRUGGLE STARTS TOMORROW!” shouted the third.

“I like the sound of that,” said the first.

“I hope it’s not too late to find flak jackets,” said the second.

“Just save your receipts,” said Phil.

The little men’s voices drifted out across the farthest reaches of Outer Horner, until finally, because Outer

Horner was not infinite, their voices drifted into the surrounding country of Greater Keller, which ran like a six-inch-wide circular strip of ribbon around Outer Horner.

Because Greater Keller was so thin it was almost nonexistent, it was rarely visited much less invaded, and was therefore very prosperous. The nine Greater Kellerites spent their days walking behind their President single-file, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, happy and cordial, engaged in endless energetic conversation about the appearance of the portion of Outer Horner they happened to be walking around, the nuances of the cup of coffee they were currently enjoying, and/or the enjoyable impression being made on them by the way the person in front of them looked when viewed from behind.

“Temporary Halt, please!” called President Rick, leaning into Outer Horner airspace, hand to his ear. ” Someone is saying some rather loud and interesting things from Outer Horner, concerning a new President.”

“I find myself wondering what happened to their old President,” said the First Lady.

“Excellent point, dear!” said President Rick. “Let’s discuss that. Let’s have some good national conversation about that, thus increasing our National Enjoyment Level. Did he retire, one wonders? Was he forced out of office?”

“Did he pass away?” said the First Lady. “If so, were his last words inspirational?”

“Or was he perhaps bitter at the end?” said the First Daughter.

“Oh, I doubt it, dear,” said the First Lady. “Remember when he visited?”

“What a sport!” said President Rick. “Such a fat little man, but did he ever give walking in a circle a good try!”

And the nation fondly remembered the former President of Outer Horner, one of its rare visitors who, finding it difficult to walk in a circle, given his three legs and multiple bellies, kept falling out of their nation and inadvertently returning to his own.

“Just who is this new President?” said Lenore, Citizen #5, meaning she was fifth in line. “Is he as good a sport as the old President? Does he like to talk? Is he sociable?”

“Can he walk in a circle?” said President Rick. ” That’s the main thing. Does he like to make pleasant conversation as he walks in a circle drinking coffee?”

“Does he even like coffee?” said Kevin, Citizen #8.

“Is he, perhaps, more of a tea drinker?” said the First Daughter.

The nation of Greater Keller went momentarily silent at this troubling thought.

“I think we should invite him for a Visit,” said the First Lady. “For days before his Visit, we could look forward to his Visit. For days after his Visit, we could discuss how well his Visit went. Think how Enjoyable we’ll find that!”

“Cliff?” said the President to Citizen #4. “How are we doing? How good, rich, and beautiful is our life at the moment? How fully are we living?”

“Well, sir,” said Cliff, the National Enjoyment Assessor. “Our cups are approximately half-full, our coffee

is still warm, the First Lady has just passed around some nice cookies, we’ve got the sudden surge of interest associated with the possible Visit of the President of Outer Horner—I’d say we’re Enjoying at about an Eight of a possible Ten.”