They were still pounding on the door, even after he screamed at them to go away! But they wouldnt, of course, not now... Yes, he'd read the speech before giving it. And even then he'd had misgivings. They wanted him to say such... awful things, about people he didnt know. But it's for the good of the party!, they told him. It's for the good of the country!, they insisted. But how could it be for the good of the country when they wanted him to tell such lies? He knew it was wrong. He knew it. And yet they insisted he read the speech as is, no changes. If he made changes, they told him, there would be consequences. Serious consequences. So he gave the speech, as it was written. But when it came to the end, when he was supposed to give the ringing endorsement for a candidate whose handlers he no longer trusted, he had to stop. With hundreds of TV cameras broadcasting to millions of people watching, he had to just... stop. And tell the truth. About everything. Where he stood, where the candidate stood, where the party stood -- on all of the issues, who his friends were, more importantly who his friends werent. He could see the campaign officials, frozen in impotent rage, unable to tell the networks to turn off the cameras. He could see the candidate, a smile plastered in place. He could see his wife, curiously and fearfully dismayed. Despite the glaring lights, he could see the people in the hall, at once both stone silent and roaring its fury at the seeming betrayal. He finished and walked off, ignoring the rising tide of outrage as he headed straight for his little dressing room and waited for the inevitable. The pounding started anew. He could hear someone outside calling for something to break this damn door down!. And he knew it was only a matter of time.