Written by Philip J. Moss
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Thursday, 2 March 2017

"Pssst!"

Nancy Pelosi peered around the pillar but saw no one.

"Pssst! Over here!"

She looked again and saw a shadowy figure beckoning her from across the floor of the parking garage. She scuttled over, while holding on to her wig with one hand.

"Blackfeather," she said to the man.

"What?"

"Blackfeather. The password."

"Oh."

"You're supposed to give the countersign."

"Which is?"

"Ostrich."

"Okay. 'Ostrich.' You got the money?"

Nancy handed over a fat envelope, still trying to adjust her wig, while the mystery man rifled through the bills.

"Here." The man handed her a flash drive.
"I thought you would be Russian," she said.

"I am Russian."

"You don't sound Russian."

"Vhat, I should sound like Boris Badenoff? Give me a break. Take my word for it, this stuff is definitely Russian."

"Can I rely on it? I mean, is it genuine?"

"Ed Snowden himself vouched for it. It's the stuff that the Russkies hacked from Trump during the campaign, only they never released it."

Pelosi turned to go, but a whisper drew her back.

"Psst, Nancy."

"What?"

"Lose the mustache." And he melted into the shadows.

Back at the DNC's headquarters, Pelosi locked the flash drive in her safe, and spun the dial. She stripped off her wig and then the mustache, and sank into a chair. Her heart was still pounding.

"What's on the drive," her assistant asked.

"If my informant is right, it's the missing fifteen minutes from the Pussygate tapes."

"Wow. Hot stuff, huh?"

"Well, its safe now."

But at three a.m. there was movement in the corridor outside the DNC office. A fiber optic cable tipped with a small camera slid under the door and writhed around. A scuffle could be heard, and then hushed voices.

"Jeezmarie, Christy, get off of my foot!"

"Sorry, Rudy."

Guiliani yanked the fiber optic cable out, muttering to himself, while he picked the lock. They entered the room and headed unerringly for the safe. Both of them were wearing stocking masks that distorted their features.

"Shhhhh," Christy whispered.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, willya," said Rudy. "THere's no one here."

Suddenly, the lights came on, and the two men saw that they were surrounded by secret service men.

"Hands up!" on of them said. The would be burglars were cuffed and hustled out of the room. Donald swaggered in as one of the secret servicemen finished opening the safe, and handed him the flash drive.

"Thanks, fellas." Donald inserted the flash drive into his laptop and settled down on the couch. The remaining secret service men gathered around to watch the video.

"Send someone out for popcorn," said the commander in chief elect.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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