[WillFreeman]

Synopsis: Ann Coulter and Michael Moore go out on a date



The blend was still his favorite, though he didn't know much about it other than it was from Amsterdam. He took another hit of stemless purity before shifting to third on his Prius. If he was going to do this again, he might as well be stoned. My name is Michael Moore and I smoke pot; deal with it, he thought. He suddenly laughed at the memory of the incredulous look on his scheduler's face when he told him what he required tonight: back room of the Capitol Grille, another ounce of the Dutch blend, a bottle of Dom on ice back at the penthouse, and a $10,000 check made out to the waiter for "discretion."

While slowing for a stop light, Michael recalled the first time he met the "bitch" as he and his followers so often called her. The "bitch" had actually showed up in Flint, though he could not recall the exact circumstances of her being there. It was probably something to do with that criminally-conservative Senator she was working for at the time. The man got Michael's blood boiling, so he took another hit.

A smile washed over his face as he did so, but then he remembered what he was doing this evening. And who he was going to meet. The thought of her made him put the joint down and desperately open the glove compartment to rummage for his blood pressure medicine. Finding it, he popped a couple in his mouth and swallowed them dry, just as a Ford Explorer cut him off. "Fucking SUV's!!"

***
She hoped the driver knew how to keep his mouth shut. Her assistant had hired him from the same service she always used when she was in D.C., but this guy was new. She made a mental note to have her assistant ensure the man's discretion; cash usually worked. She pulled out her pocket bible from her Prada and read a couple verses. On the inside cover was an inscription "To Ann, Never lose faith. Love, Dad." It made her feel better to read from it right now, but she realized she would probably be committing a sin tonight. "Liberals!" she contemptuously said out loud. The driver looked at her questioningly, but didn't say any thing. 'Good,' Ann thought. She was trying to remain calm, but her mind kept returning to what she was about to do.

She put the bible away and pulled out her vanity kit. Ann had a difficult time looking herself in the eye as she re-checked her make-up. She'd had to remove a couple layers after her appearance on Crossfire, but thought it looked fine for now. Ann then forced herself to meet her eyes in the mirror. A few seconds was all she could take and put the kit away. She was ashamed. She was pissed off. But she knew she was going to do it any way. Ann tried to take some solace in the verbal dismembering she gave to the liberal on Crossfire, but her mind kept returning to the son of a bitch whom she first met in that random coffee shop in Flint. Her driver was making a left-hand turn onto Sixth when she realized she was already there. The Capitol Grille. The driver maneuvered his way to the back parking garage and stopped at a graffiti-splattered door. "Have a pleasant evening, ma'am, the bill is already taken care of." "Thank you," Ann replied, and got out of the car. She took a deep breath, walked up to the door, and knocked three times. The door was immediately opened by a host in a tux. "Right this way, ma'am." The host led her down a narrow hallway to a mahogany door and opened it. The room was small and windowless but had nice paintings on its walls. A table for two was set, candles were burning, red wine was in a decanter, and Michael Moore was sitting in the seat facing her.

"You know, I rode a horse once that had a face that looks a lot like yours, Ann" he greeted her.

"Under what cruel set of circumstances was a horse actually forced to carry a lard-ass like you?" she replied as she sat down. "And what exactly did they use to get you on top of the poor thing, a forklift?"

"It's nice to see you again too, Ann" he said with a laugh. "Would you like some wine?"

"Which Bordeaux is going to be wasted down your throat this time, Michael?"

"'82 Haut-Brion, which happens to be the wine I celebrated leaving San Francisco with," he responded, pouring her a glass.

"You mean celebrated getting fired and then collecting on your wrongful termination suit? Very classy," she said taking a whiff.

Michael raised his glass to her. "A toast? Here's to the word faggot, which so eloquently came out of your ivy-league mouth a couple weeks ago, managing to extract even more resentment of you from the gay community."

"I'll drink to the word, but I was referring to John Edwards, not gay people. I would never insult gay people by comparing them to him." Their glasses clinked, and as she took a sip she admitted to herself the wine was outstanding.

"You do know, by the way, that I used that money to make my first documentary, the one exposing the evils of General Motors. How are you using your money? Oh, and how's the house in Palm Beach?" he asked, taking another sip.

"Your eyes are blood-shot. Are you high again? No, don't bother answering- I, too, went to college. Oh wait, you didn't, did you? Or are you going to count that semester at that distinguished community college as attending college?" she queried.

"Don't be jealous that I got my education in the real world and you had to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for it," he responded as the waiter made another entrance. "You can begin serving now, John," he said turning back to Ann. "I took the liberty of ordering for you. I hope you don't mind vegetarian."

"I'll take my filet rare, please, with whatever other rabbit-food this idiot decided to order." She looked up at the waiter. "You don't come to the Capitol Grille and order vegetables."

The waiter nodded his head and re-filled the wine glasses before making his departure. Michael swirled his wine and took a moment to enjoy its color in the candlelight. He was trying to forget Flint. He had a wife. Her name was Kathleen. Try to remember that, Mike, he thought to himself. Or don’t if you want to go through with this. He glanced at Ann's blouse, which was showing a hint of cleavage. Damn the woman!

“So how was Cuba?” she asked, taking another sip of wine.

“Keeping tabs on me, Ann?” he chuckled.

Even his laugh is annoying, she thought. “Well, let’s think about this for a second. You either have a couple conservative sympathizers amongst your followers that I, like Sun Tzu, have secretly paid to gather information on you- ‘know your enemy’ right? Ever heard of him, Dough-Boy?”

“I’ve heard of him,” he responded.

“Or I happen to have not been locked in my closet for the last month. I understand you’re going to have some fun with the Treasury Department.”

“It won’t be enough to stop my movie.”

“Right,” she said. “The secret vault where the evil right-wingers can’t stop the vital truth from being shown! Or just another spike for your box office numbers. . .”

“And you’re NEVER guilty of saying something that might give you a spike in sales, huh? Or do you really wish Tim McVeigh would have blown up a building in Manhattan?”

“That ‘building in Manhattan’ was the New York Times headquarters, and yeah, I do really wish that happened to the communists residing there.” She paused and took another sip; the man knew how to get under her skin. She allowed herself a small smile. “I will admit that the 'faggot' comment was a nice boost. I’ve gotten quite a few speaking engagements since that one.”

“And lost quite a few sponsors for your website.”

“Michael, I get 25 cents an hour from those advertisements. I get $10,000 an hour for a speaking engagement. Even you might be able to deduce the math on that one.”

“It’s too bad at 45 you can’t earn yourself an ACTUAL engagement, or is it 43- I can’t keep all your lies straight,” he remarked with a smirk.

“That’s private- I’m a girl. And yes, I’ve been engaged. Bob has asked me every month for the past year.” I can’t believe he just went there!, she fumed, but carefully kept a strait face. “And you’re actually going to say my not revealing my age is some form of lie? You claim Bush was in league with the Saudis on 9/11 and you’re going to call me a liar? Are you serious?

“I’m a comedian, and I made a lot of money. I especially enjoyed your little counterpoint to my blockbuster- what was it, FarenHYPE 911? I waited until it came out on video though- I wouldn’t want to contribute to your cause. Wait a minute,” he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his ponderous chin. “I didn’t have to wait very long, did I- strait to video, right?”

Her response was interrupted by the waiter coming in through the door with a pair of salads. Michael noticed a vein on her forehead that seemed to be throbbing- he was truly enjoying this. She took a couple slow, deep breaths to calm down, not trusting herself to speak with the waiter still in the room. John put down the two dishes and started to refill their glasses. Michael is still the only man she had ever met that could piss her off so easily. Why, oh God WHY, do I have to like it though?

****

They were on their second bottle when John opened the door holding two sumptuous, steaming dishes. Michael gave his wine a couple swirls. “Did I mention I pre-ordered Crème-Brule as well?”

“No, you didn’t. Did I mention that if you continue to eat like shit you will continue to look like shit?” The waiter let out a guffaw as he placed the dishes in front of his customers, but quickly regained his composure. Ann didn’t care what the waiter thought any more.

“Enjoy your dessert, Sir. Ma’am,” he said, leaving the room. She took a hard look at her tempting dessert. One of her strongest weapons was her figure- liberals couldn’t stand that her searing statements came from the lips of a good-looking woman. She mentally added a couple miles to her workout tomorrow and grabbed a spoon. Like THIS is going to be what I regret tomorrow.

“It’s ok, Ann, you can eat. We all know you’re going to throw it up any way,” he remarked, gobbling up a large spoonful.

****

The cognac was coursing through her veins like wildfire, and the verbal boxing match was in its fifteenth round- but she was just warming up. “So if you have a heart attack tonight, should I rush you to Havana? I heard they have pretty good medical care there,” she said, leaning back in her chair.

The Prius was by this time ready to go in the now-closed parking garage behind the restaurant. He just had to make the final move, but he still couldn’t believe he was going to go through with this. Knowing that he was now stoned AND drunk though, he realized he had as little chance of stopping as he did voting republican in the next election. “How ‘bout my place?” he asked, guzzling the last of his cognac.

“Good transition. Very romantic.”

“Did it work?”

“Are you going to last more than ten seconds this time?”

****

She had been to the courses every year for the last four years to re-certify; she didn’t want to have to live with the fact that somebody near her died because she didn’t know CPR. This was the first time she actually had to do it for real, but Ann knew it wasn’t working at all. She was futiley going through the exercises, but thought rapidly and decided to make the call.

“Yes, this is room. . .right 523, I think the man in here has had a heart attack. Please send a doctor immediately.” She put the phone down and hastily put on the rest of her clothes. She probably had about 30 seconds to get to a service elevator, but paused as she noticed something else on the floor. It was something that wasn’t supposed to be on the floor at all. Son of a bitch! Last time it was the clap; I wonder what gift I’m getting this time? You’re lucky you’re dead, asshole. She had to get out of here though or the press would have a field day. Anne wiped down every piece of furniture she thought she had touched and bolted; she wasn’t seen. Now for that fun call to the gynecologist.

*****

“Here’s to five happy years, Anne,” Bob stated, raising his glass. “Happy anniversary.”

“Thank you, Bob,” she replied as she in turn raised hers. As she did so her gaudy wedding ring caught her eye. She really should have helped him with that. “I heard your buddy Axl has decided he wants a piece of you.”

“The guy just did another concert where he sang the damn song. He keeps singing ‘Bob, I’ll kick your bitchy little ass’ in public, but still hasn’t answered my calls.”

“Did he hear that you were a black belt?”

“Maybe. It would be a nice boost for Spin though if we were able to put something together.”

As he said this Robert Jr. came running into the room with that annoying laugh.

“Mommy!” he said, rushing into her arms. Five years old and an absolute terror, Anne was bound and determined to raise him right- in every way. Anne smiled as she remembered her angst the week following that evening with Michael. The previous “gift” he had given her had easily been cleaned up with a series of anti-biotics. His next “gift” made her actully consider for the first time the merits of abortion.

Faith, of course, won out, but Bob didn’t have to know Robert Jr. wasn’t his.

[Vorcla]

Hehehehehe! This is wicked! Scary thing is, I can see this happening for some reason, as implausible as it seems. Nice job.

Rick

[WillFreeman]

Thanks, glad you liked it.

[RENA HANDS]

I think you are missing some words here...

Her assistant had hired him from the same service (that) she (had) always used when in D.C.,

I would Capitalize pocket Bible.

Possibly divide the speech betweent the cabi and the host.?

I enjoyed the gay remark about Jone Edwards.

Where you state the fact about losing sponsors for his website, you might want to show another change in her face.

I think you should just end the line with (!)...

I can't believe he just went there! She fumed,

Very funny about his 10 seconds 'hold out.'

Is it Ann or Anne, you seem to change the spelling throughout.

So I lied. I read your story my Monday night instead of my Tuesday afternoon. It was delightfully sinful. And I can see why it is 'advanced.' My rating 4/5!

[Jimbalaya]

Ha! Very good story. You move from scene to scene easily and the voice of the story really pulls the reader along. Quite funny in places, the constant bickering had me busting up. Well done!

[ea_blue]

A highly improbable date, which is what makes it so funny! The verbal swordplay was fabulous and just what I was hoping for from the story.

Maybe I missed it, but I'm not entirely clear on "why" they were doing this for a second time! They clearly hated each other but still went off to do the nasty. The reasons they got together could be just as funny as the rest fo the story. So it could be fun to explore the origins of their dating a little more.

Anne's receiving a second "gift" is just too funny for words, and of course Michael not surviving the encounter...that's just rich! Well done!

[Ambrose]

Pretty funny, even though I don't keep close tabs on either of these people. I'm impressed by how close to the details you stay with this.

So if you have a heart attack tonight, should I rush you to Havana? I heard they have pretty good medical care there,