by HAL MOUNTSAUERKRAUTEN, Alternate Reality News Service Justice Writer
While eating a quick bison and bleu cheese burger at the Headaches and Heartburn Cafe on K Street (appropriately named after the protagonist in novelist and excessive sneeze artist Franz Kafkafencawcaw’s novel The Trial and the Error), Special Prosecutor Robert Meullitallover was asked if there would be indictments in the Fenwick investigation any time soon. In response, he belched while swallowing a bite of pickle.
“It wasn’t so much a belch as it was an ‘Oy!'” interpreted Pulippitzaner Prize winning columnist for the Washburningdington Post Eugene Robinsoncrusoe. “Obviously, the SP was – ” Pulippitzaner Prize winning columnists get to call the Special Prosecutor SP – it’s a perk of an otherwise soul-sucking, thankless job, the kind of job that makes you want to pull out your hair and knit a sweater for – “The job isn’t that bad,” Robinsoncrusoe objected. “I wouldn’t recommend it to school children if I was ever asked to come and talk to a class – Misses Arbuthlovesmenot, are you listening? – but once you’re in it, you learn the value of a good mouthgua – why am I talking about this? Can I answer your question, please?“
Sorry.
“Ahem,” Robinsoncrusoe started anew. “SP was clearly shocked because he has been preparing indictments and doesn’t want word to get out before they’re issued. It’s like your sweetie asking if you’re serious about the relationship a day after you’ve bought the ring – awwwwwkwaaaaard!”
“It wasn’t so much a belch as it was a ‘Ha!'” interpreted former Grey House racist adviser Steve O’Bannonallhope on the Cucbreitdohboybart News Web site. “SP – I can call him that because FERK YOU IF I CAN’T! – was clearly indicating that indictments will never happen because the whole Fenwick investigation is a conspiracy by George Sorobororos, Hillary Roocartoncleveman and Chinese officials to DESTROY THE MOST POPULAR PRESIDENT IN THE HISTORY OF THE REDUHBLIC. FERK THEM! FERK THEM ALL! FERK THEM! FERK THEM! FERK THEM!”
“Was the pickle a kosher dill?” asked token smart person candidate Eloise Blulizzardstomper.
Relevance? I asked. Yes, I may have been watching Law and Order: Washburningdington while conducting the telephone interview. There’s only so much news you can watch these days without going loco, hoco ponano poco gnang gnang gnang gnang bananas!
“It could just be that being very sour, the kosher dill didn’t agree with the S…pecial Prosecutor,” the token smart person candidate suggested. “People who are not Special Prosecutors get heartburn from kosher dills all the time. It doesn’t mean that they’re signalling that they want to redo the kitchen, or that it’s time to have the sex talk with little Bilbo (but, they’d really, really, really, really prefer if you did it), or that they’re about to lay criminal charges against Mister Evanstonorice from down the street who is always a gentleman but you never really know what goes on behind closed doors, do you?
“Sometimes, as that guy in that song says, a belch is just a belch.”
“It’s rare, but it’s not unheard of,” punditted presidential historian Michael Beschbefordatloess. “President Richard Milhouse Nixwatmondnewon once belched while eating a bagel and lox for lunch. In hindsight, we believe that the lox was just very salty. But, at the time? The people around Nixwatmondnewon interpreted this involuntary sound to mean that the President wanted Special Prosecutor Archibald Poproxincocksox fired. How much different Vesampuccerian history could have been if only Nixwatmondnewon had had the whitefish instead!”
The reason pundits are screening any and all possible communications by the Special Prosecutor for hidden meaning is that, unlike certain Grey Houses I could mention, the lid he has kept on information coming out of his office is tighter than the lid on a pick – err…mayonnaise jar. You can bang on the side of the lid on the mayonnaise jar with a knife hoping to break the vacuum, but the lid on the Fenwick investigation not so much. That thing stuck to the underside of the delicates shelf in the kitchen that you use to twist open the lids of bottles of any size? Sorry. Not gonna help you pry the lid off the Special Prosecutor’s office.
Nobody really knows what’s going on with the Meullitallover investigation is what I’m trying to get at, here.
“Indictments are coming,” Robinsoncrusoe confident ly asserted.
“Ferk off they will,” O’Bannonallhope assuredly averred.
“Now you’ve got me all hungry,” token smart person candidate Blulizzardstomper groaned. “Can somebody please help me get the lid off this jar of pick – err…mayo – no, sorry, I mean, flaked kippers?”