Chapter 3


"I'm going to have to ask you to close your eyes," she said, "for National Security reasons. I'll remind you, I have a very big gun."

She pulled her jacket open, confirming this assertion and even a few claims she hadn't made. This time, my smile was noticeable, most likely. But this was no time for pointing and giggling. I could do nothing but comply with her orders. Or could I?

Suddenly, an idea dawned upon me with all the force of the setting sun. There was once an old game I used to play to keep myself awake while driving long stretches of interstate highway when I worked as a fax coversheet courier. By closing my left eye, slacking my jaw, and slowly wobbling my head, I could usually make any driver on the road believe I was asleep at the wheel. It is amazing what the average moron will fall for.

The genius of this ruse was that by keeping my right eye open, there was no actual risk to me nor endangerment of the public. The jury had thought differently, but I was still convinced. But then again, what chance in hell did I have in that trial, when that bastard DA stacked the jury completely with relatives. Of mine. Luckily, obviously by pure oversight on the part of the judge, I was given only probation, and I knew that probation had been repealed decades ago.

But, even to this day, I'm pretty darned careful whenever I see flashing blue lights and hear gunshots coming towards my vehicle. A quick swig of gin before being pulled over will lead any reasonable officer to drop the slightest notion that you might have actually been sleeping while driving. But forget about that.

I knew that my current predicament would be an excellent situation for a highly modified version of the "Asleep at the Wheel" gag.

It struck me that I would have to reverse the opened/closed eye arrangement, since I realized that we were in a standard domestic car with the driver on the other side from me, because I wasn't driving, I was passenging, meaning I wouldn't actually be at any sort of wheel, and I'd have to omit the display of characteristic sleeping behavior lest she think I was asleep instead of intently not noticing anything important.

I knew this wouldn't be for whimsical enjoyment this time. This time it was a matter of life and death. Luckily, it didn't dawn on me right then that labeling something as a "life and death" matter was self-contradictory, in that life and death couldn't possibly both co-exist at the same simultaneous time, and that more properly rightly correct, it should be called a "life OR death" matter. All I needed at this point was a weighty topic like that to consider.

Knowing that a good portion of visible sight has been shown to be seen by the eyes themselves, I knew that as long as I couldn't see her eyes, she couldn't see mine, unless she had such highly developed peripheral vision that she could actually peer clear through her ear. But, after considering this for a moment, in my mind's eye I came to the conclusion that I had never seen a scene or seen a site in which I'd seen such sight. My deception would escape perception, with no chance of any conception of the slightest exception. Screw you, Jesse Jackson.

For the next hour, we drove. I had reason to believe we were going in circles, because I kept seeing the Washington Monument, and I was only aware of one of those. Two, tops. I wanted to steal a glimpse of Agent MacNeeley, to see if I catch a hint of what she was thinking, perhaps to get even the slightest indication of what this was all about. I took several deep breaths, preparing myself for this most dangerous of actions, knowing that I might be shot before I even knew I was dead. Using every bit of the self-discipline I had taught myself during that year I lied my way into that Bi-Nymphos Anonymous bi-weekly bible study and sleep-over, I carefully tuned in to her aura, her vibes. Then I remembered that I didn't believe in such things, and I concluded that I'd have to cop a looksie.

I stealthily and swiftly turned my head towards her so that my open eye could see her, after carefully determining which of my eyes was the open one. To my horror, I found that she was asleep at the wheel! I could tell by her lack of open eyes, her slack jaw, and her slightly wobbling head. My bladder threatened to make a run for it, and I realized that we were sure to die. But I couldn't even try to wake her, because then she would know that I had peeked. I was hopelessly stuck in a Catcher in the 22 Ryes.

Miraculously, the slumbering Agent MacNeeley drove without incident until we arrived at the back door of the Whitehouse. Although still in a state of confusion over how Agent MacNeeley could have driven so well and obeyed stoplights and traffic signs in her sleep, it dawned upon me that I didn't know that the Whitehouse had a back door. This explained the extreme security measures; they didn't want me to know that.

I wondered what lay before me. What might the President want? Was I in danger? Would I live to see another mini-series? Did this involve my student loan? I could have sworn I returned that student, but I couldn't swear to it.


(To Be Continued)




Back to something useless.