by Don Cook
“Our Canadian friend has a point” Stanton said. “My staff and I have drafted a system of promotional frequency that will not miss. It’s based upon studies in the fields of mathematics, psychology and advertising. Good answer?”
“I wish you all the best, Ms. Stanton,” a satisfied Rick said. “Thank you.”
Rick sat down as Khraa/Astra raised her right hand. Faustino and Stanton acknowledged that like it or not, they had to pepper their announcement with some questions from oppositional reporters to make themselves look good. Based on the brainwaves their minds were emanating, Khraa/Astra knew that they knew.
With disdainful trepidation, Faustino said, “You in the rear row center-right, you’re next!”
Khraa/Astra quickly planted a mass telepathic suggestion into everyone’s mind, except for Stanton’s, before she darted up from her seat and said, “Astra Downey, of The Bull-Free Truth with Astra Downey —”
“I know who you are, Ms. Downey!” Stanton said loudly, in sneering contempt. “Get to your point!”
A High Noon-style silence befell the room as it quickly filled up with a tension so thick that a person would have needed a chainsaw to cut through it.
“You seem to present your case as if it’s going to be a cakewalk” Khraa/Astra said. “But a coalition of over half of the state governors, federal Senators and declared candidates for such offices in this upcoming election year within these United States, led by the Governor of Texas — politicians from both sides of the aisle, I might add, including yours — this political posse has threatened to impeach you if you get elected.
“I’ve examined their case, and it looks pretty iron-clad solid and legal. Even ‘Tricky Dick’ Nixon would have stood a far better chance of staying in office had he been formally impeached for anything to do with Watergate! And many of those running for federal Senate seats from your own party would just love to hang you out to dry! And I mention no names, Ms. Stanton — these folks have already done that for me!
“And what about all the email allegations, the illegal acceptance of funds from persons and parties of influence hostile to our national interests, questions surrounding the methods of your vetting as being contrary to well-established laws, your plans to establish alliances with nations whose goal is America’s destruction, and the never-ending allegations linking you to mysterious, unsolved multiple murders?!
“And getting back to your so-called ‘amendment’, what are the details? You have a past where you expressed mega-vitriolic hatred for men, Jews, Christians, blacks — you’re not as kumbaya-liberal as you would have everybody think you are! Come on, out with it! Cough up the truth! Comment on everything I’ve just raised, right now!”
The tension grew exponentially ever-thicker as the atmosphere in the room was choked with prolonged deafening silence. The otherwise pleasant post-announcement Q & A became a journalistic High Noon-type showdown between Khraa/Astra and Stanton. Khraa/Astra, knowing her opening telepathic salvo-tactic worked, mentally released everyone she had silenced with her powers of mental suggestion.
Stanton came to a decision and motioned to Faustino. Faustino leaned over to Stanton, who whispered something into her ear. Faustino nodded once, then stood and walked up to the microphone.
Barely concealing a seething outrage that she and Stanton shared, Faustino said bitterly yet calmly, “Ms. Stanton will not be taking any more questions right now. This press conference has concluded. Thank you.”
Stanton, Faustino and their entourage got up and walked out of the room in an enraged and embarrassed yet polite huff while most of the journalists who were present had applauded, yet with less enthusiasm than they had earlier. Khraa/Astra knew she had won round one, but knew there were multitudes of rounds yet to come.
After the brief applause, everyone shuffled out of the Ballroom Suite, with the liberal and liberal-friendly majority of reporters miffed and incensed at Khraa/Astra’s clever silencing tactic, while the relatively few conservative reporters present were glad that Khraa/Astra silenced Stanton. Most of the FBI personnel, including Mike, and those of various other US federal, state, and local security agencies said silent internal prayers of thanks and for the reporter everyone assumed was Astra Downey.
URBAN GOPHER RESTAURANT
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA
12:04 PM CENTRAL TIME
“Everything okay?” asked Nikki, Khraa/Astra’s tall, 23-year-old rainbow-haired server, with a charm and cheerful sweetness that every customer should be so lucky or blessed to experience from a server.
“Delicious!” Khraa/Astra said.
“Thanks! Did you see that press conference where Stanton announced she’s running for President?”
“Yes. I’m a reporter who was there covering it.”
“Wow!” Nikki said. “Did you see how that Astra Dumb-ass caught Stanton off-guard…?”
Nikki, a naïve mainstream media-adhering pro-Stanton mega-liberal whose rainbow-dye-damaged hair was originally a lovely sunny blonde color, quickly realized she was serving the same woman who shut Stanton up, and allowed her bitter liberal prejudice to dish out the polite cold-shoulder waitress treatment to her current “right-wing nut” customer.
“Uh…” Nikki said, politely yet with a sudden verbal chill, “let me know when you would like the check.”
“Thank you” Khraa/Astra said, sensing Nikki’s liberal cold-shoulder treatment.
Nikki left for the kitchen, calmly yet also concealing her anger at Khraa/Astra, who recognized polite contempt when she experienced it from another person or other persons. Once in the kitchen, Nikki and a few others watched a prerecorded interview of Stanton’s announcement on a flat screen TV that hung where the kitchen help prepared their orders, a fact psychically not lost on Khraa/Astra.
Khraa/Astra got her revenge on Nikki by telepathically imparting into Nikki’s mind a disturbing image of Stanton quickly morphing into an image of the hate-ranting grotesque Mephistula!
Nikki, hyper-terrified by the telepathically suggested image of Mephistula, screamed like ten banshees, and dropped the plates she carried. Her actions also terrified the other servers and the kitchen help into dropping clay plates and drinking glasses (some with food or beverages and some without), along with a plethora of pots, pans, knives, forks, spoons and other items they were carrying.
This resulted in a loud and scary chaotic chorus of annoyingly terrifying crashing, the insane dropping and breaking of cookware, the spilling of hot coffees, cooking oils and other hot and cold cooking liquids of various kinds, and the flying of utensils and broken glass, which resulted in everyone in the kitchen being cut or poked by flying tableware and sharp objects and/or severely scalded by various hot liquids, along with the resulting scary screams of excruciating pain.
As the kitchen chaos ensued, Khraa/Astra meekly finished her coffee and snickered nonchalantly, “Yes, ol’ Nikki, the truth is scary.”
Khraa/Astra and of the customers, alarmed at the kitchen chaos, hastily lined up to pay for their meals so they could leave as quickly as possible, with Khraa/Astra standing at the back of the line. As she waited, Mike and Eggers walked into the restaurant, one of Mike’s favorites where they often had breakfast or coffee, alarmed at the frightening aural chaos that blared from the kitchen.
The agents approached Khraa/Astra to see if she, as a journalist, knew anything about the chaos going down in the kitchen.
“Astra!” Mike said, happy to see the woman he had become enamored with, a love that Mike had struggled with all night. “Glad to see you!”
“Likewise, Mike!” Khraa/Astra said, with the same romantically struggling sentiments. “This is my FBI partner, Agent Austin Eggers.”
“How do you do?” Khraa/Astra asked.
“Fine” Austin said, trying not to let his surveillance of Khraa/Astra show. “And you?”
“I’m doing alright” Khraa/Astra said, barely concealing her unwitting amusement over the chaos in the kitchen.
&nb
sp; “What’s going on back in the kitchen?” asked Eggers.
“Some server” Khraa/Astra said. “She must be a liberal who hates my guts.”
“What makes you say that?” Eggers asked again, with sneaky inquisitiveness
“Her voice” Khraa/Astra said. “Up until I finished my lunch, she was an awesome server to me in the highest tradition of restaurant service. Then she saw who I was, and went colder than Siberia on me. I knew the look, the coldness, but at least she was polite. I can’t explain the kitchen chaos, though.” As she was next in line, Khraa/Astra said to Mike and Eggers, “Well, it’s my turn to pay.”
Khraa/Astra paid her bill with Astra’s prepaid credit card.
“We were about to have lunch here” Mike said, “but I know another good place.”
“Mind if I join you two for coffee?” Khraa/Astra said.
“Not at all,” Mike said.
“I’d better get back to the office and do more paperwork,” Eggers said.
“You do that,” Mike said, “while I have a luncheon engagement with the finest reporter this side of Heaven.”
Khraa/Astra chuckled in gratitude.
DIGBY’S RESTAURANT
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA
12:31 PM CENTRAL TIME
“Everything okay?” asked bun-styled raven-haired Magdalena, Khraa/Astra and Mike’s server in a classy yet moderately-priced local eatery.
“You bet, Mags” Mike said. “How’s life been treating you?”
“Better than it would had I still been a pro-Stanton hussy.”
Magdalena saw Khraa/Astra and asked, “This a friend? Wait! Astra Downey?”
Mike politely motioned to star-struck Magdalena to keep her voice down. Magdalena continued, whispering, “Sorry, Mike.” Magdalena looked at Khraa/Astra and asked, “The Astra Downey, as in, The Bull-Free Truth with Astra Downey?”
“None other” Khraa/Astra said.
“Wow! I watch your podcasts every day! It’s great to know not all journalists are pro-Stanton schmucks. That Freedom Tea’s from Frank Ben’s, that stuff’s done wonders for my health! And it tastes awesome, too!”
“That’s exactly the idea, Mags” Khraa/Astra said, happy that Astra’s promotion of Freedom Tea has helped someone. “That’s exactly the idea. I’d like another cup of decaf dark roast, no cream, no sugar.”
“One decaf dark roast, no cream, no sugar coming up” Magdalena said perkily, and turned to get some coffee for Khraa/Astra.
“She seems like a wonderful lady” Khraa/Astra said.
“She is” Mike said. “I met Magdalena a couple of years ago, after local police and the FBI conducted a joint sting operation where we busted Mags and several other prostitutes, drug dealers and several organized crime figures.”
“Did she straighten up?”
“When she chose to turn State’s evidence, she came to me and asked her if I knew what she could do to get flying right. I told her about my also being an FBI chaplain. Yes, Astra, I’m a pastor, as well. Let’s face it, an FBI Agent often needs a man of God to turn to. And my faith has gotten me through a lot of rough stuff in my life, especially 9/11. And yes, I helped Mags get straightened around.”
“Yeah, I can see how well she’s doing” Khraa/Astra said. “And I agree. It’s good to have faith in God.”
“It’s actually saved my sanity” Mike said. “I think I’d have been rubber room material long ago if I hadn’t any faith in the Lord.”
“A guest at the Arkham Asylum, huh?” Khraa/Astra said with a witty chuckle, causing Mike to laugh with her.
“You trying to be a joker?” Mike joked.
“Good one!” Khraa/Astra quipped. “No, not even Harley Quinn!”
Khraa/Astra and Mike laughed some more.
“You know, Mike, I’ve actually got a joke about Harley Quinn” Khraa/Astra went on. “The guys who make the Harley Quinn comics wanted to make a time travel-western with her in it, but were advised by their legal department to drop the project when they feared a lawsuit over the working title Harley Quinn, Medicine Woman!”
Mike laughed harder as he said, “Now that’s a good one!”
“With apologies to Jane Seymour” Khraa/Astra quipped again. “Not!”
Both laughed, enjoying each other’s comedic companionship.
Mike looked at his watch and said, “Gotta go in ten minutes.”
“I’ll let you wolf down your food” Khraa/Astra joked.
A brief silence came between the two, until Mike asked in a gentlemanly way, “Uh… I don’t usually do this, Ms. Downey, but… Are you free tonight?”
“You’re allowed to date me?” Khraa/Astra asked cautiously. “You are FBI, and I am a journalist.”
“Don’t worry. There’s nothing that says an FBI man can’t date a journalist.”
Khraa/Astra paused before she answered, “Well, then… still got my card?”
“I do. You still got mine?”
“I do.”
“I take it as a yes, then?” Mike said.
“Oui, monsieur,” said Khraa/Astra, with playful wit.
“How about I pick you up at your place? Say, five-thirty?”
“It’s a date,” Khraa/Astra said. “Off to your flat-footing job?”
“Yes” Mike got up, and gentlemanly pulled Khraa/Astra’s seat back as she rose. “Time for you to tend to the fourth estate?”
“Yes. We’re on for tonight at five-thirty?”
“You bet. See you then.”
HOME OF MIKE BONHOEFFER
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA
4:38 PM CENTRAL TIME
“I’m Astra Downey,” spoke Khraa/Astra to a young, plus-sized, rainbow-haired butch woman during a person-on-the-street podcast that played on Mike’s laptop that was connected to his flatscreen TV, “of The Bull-Free Truth with Astra Downey —”
“She doesn’t waste any time getting a podcast out” Mike said, as he and Eggers, who was visiting Mike on FBI business, watched “Astra’s” latest podcast.
“That Astra Downey?” spoke the rainbow-haired woman Khraa/Astra spoke with. “Vamoose! You’re just right-wing bull —!”
A censoring tone came from the laptop’s speakers as the plus-sized woman’s lips were blurred over onscreen.
“Where do you get your news?” Khraa/Astra asked the sexually alternative woman.
“Not from you!”
“But where do you get your news?”
The rainbow-haired woman said rudely, “ABC, CBS, NBS, PBS. And get your butt-face out of my face, alt-media —!”
Her voice was bleeped and her lips were blurred out again.
A whooshing noise and flash of white appeared on-screen, followed by another on-the-street interview by Khraa/Astra, as she spoke to a balding older man.
“I’m Astra Downey of The Bull-Free Truth with Astra Downey —”
“Yes! I love your web-show!” said the older man.
“Why, thanks!”
“So, what’s your take on Mallory Stanton’s desire to put a hiring freeze on males in the civil service at federal, state and local levels, if elected?”
“Stanton’s a neo-Nazi!” shouted the balding man. “Ain’t sexual equality supposed to work both ways?!”
“Yes, it is” Khraa/Astra said, nodding in honest agreement.
“And her policy to force men from all levels of government services to retire early or get laid off?”
“Like I said, she’s a neo-Nazi!”
“And to replace all vacated positions with females she and her staff hand-pick?”
“This is America! We gotta stop her!”
“And where do you get your news?”
“You, for one, and Next News, and other alternate sources. Watching mainstream news is like mainlining, shooting drugs into your arms!”
Mike laughed, as another whooshing-noise-and-white-flash appeared in the podcast, followed by another on-the-street interview by Khraa/Astra, as she spoke to a prissy middle-aged co
iffed blonde in a business pantsuit.
“I’m an executive who normally votes for Stanton’s party,” the woman said after Khraa/Astra asked her the question of the day, “and I’ve worked my way up to where I am by treating my coworkers, male and female, like I would have them treat me. That’s why this time, Stanton’s lost my vote. Men lend their own value to any workplace just like women, and for Stanton to propose such a bone-headed, reverse-bigoted, draconian measure — maybe she should move up to Canada and run for their Liberal party!”
“And where do you get your news?”
“I used to get it from mainstream media,” the blonde woman said, “but now, I get my news from Fox and news sources like Next News, Lisa Haven, and you. You rock, girl!”
“Stanton didn’t say what it looks like she said!” Eggers shouted.
“Cool your jets, boy!” Mike said with some contempt. “I heard Stanton’s entire no-men-speech loud and clear last night and her announcement today. We were there, and I am your senior, Master Eggers!”
Eggers was bitterly offended, but stuffed it down, as another whoosh-and-white-flash preceded Khraa/Astra’s next interview with a strawberry-blonde middle-aged man in a grey business suit.
“I’m Astra Downey of The Bull-Free Truth with Astra Downey. I’m interviewing people and asking, what’s your take on Mallory Stanton’s desire to put a hiring freeze on males in the civil service at federal, state and local levels?”
“Stanton’s just committed political hara-kiri!” said the man. “Unless, as Turnbull has often said, the election is rigged, Stanton’s goose is cooked!”
Khraa/Astra asked again, “And where do you get your news?”
“My soon-to-be-ex-wife watches mainstream manure,” the man said, “but I watch you and every other alternative news journalist I can. In fact, my wife and I made a bet. If Stanton wins, I leave, and she gets it all, unless the kids want to leave with me. If Turnbull wins, I take it all, I get the kids, and all she gets will be the clothes on her back, our second-hand second car, and a prepaid credit card with fifty thousand dollars, and she’d disown the kids!”
“Your kids? How do they feel?”
“They think Stanton belongs in Arkham Asylum, along with their cheating cougar-mother!”
