Meanwhile, back in Capitol City... Next! The booming voice rattled the glass in the door. The aide jumped up, opened the door, and hurried the lobbyist in. Mr. Seamus Eadog, to see you sir. Of the Friends of Maritime History. Congressman B. Luto blew a huge cloud of smoke in their general direction, to dismiss the aid. Mr. Eadog quickly stepped forward, as the door closed behind him, extending his hand across the massive walnut desk. Just call me Seam, Mr. Luto. He offered a big smile. B. Luto grunted and tapped the ash of his cigar into the outstretched hand. Yeah, Sam. So, what can I do for you? The man sat down, tentatively, in the chair across from the desk. Well, sir. I hope you've had a chance to read the proposals we sent to you. On the museum. A truly worthy cause sir. And you being an old sailor yourself, I'm sure we can expect support for funding from you, when it comes up in Committee? Hmm, support? He gnawed on his cigar. Well, that's what they elect us for, ain't it? To help out the folks at home? Relief washed over Mr. Eadog and his smile returned. That's what democracy's all about, B. Luto went on. Helping each other. You help me, I help you. Bailey! Mr. Eadog nearly leapt out of his seat at the booming shout. The door flew open and the aide jumped to. Sir? Tell me, Bailey, how much did the Sons of History here... Friends of Maritime History. Mr. Eadog nervously corrected. Whatever. How much did they contributes to my last re-election campaign? Baily rushed from the room. He was back in a flash, thumbing through a pile of loose sheets of ledger. Congressman Luto winked at the now nervous Mr. Eadog. The wheels of democracy needs lubricating, ya know. Well! he boomed. Papers flew everywhere. B. Luto shook his head in disgust. Bailey dropped to his knees and frantically searched through the papers strewn before him. Ah! Yes? Nothing. What? Their contribution, sir. They gave you nothing. B. Luto's eyes narrowed on the now squirming lobbyist. Sir, I assure you, it was a mere oversight. I'm sure. I'm sure. B. Luto agreed, raising from his chair. He reached down and yanked the lobbyist from the chair, turned him head over heals, and shook him hard. B. Luto grunted at the paltry petty change that fell from the man's pockets. Well, the wheels of democracy needs lubricating, and your axle's looking kind of rusty, he barked. He marched the man towards the door. Now, I'm an honorable man, says so on the door, so go back to your office and see what kind of oil you can dig up, so's I can give your proposition consummate consideration. And don't let the door hit you in the arse on the way out! He slammed the door on the man's heals. B. Luto turned and looked at the papers on the floor in disgust. Clean that mess up, Bailey. I swear, I don't know why I keep you on. Yes, uncle. Bailey scooped up the papers and scurried from the room just as fast as he could. Next! -------- RC14

 
~jon
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