Political Pressure

27

Perry Rhinebeck was following in the footsteps of the greatest press secretary of all time, Orville Flicker. It was an honor and a privilege, and he was going to pull it off perfectly. He felt cool as a cucumber as he worked the press and the crowd of supporters.

"As you know, we've only just created our national organizational structure in the past twenty-four hours, so things are a little chaotic," he said, giving a smile that made him look happily disheveled when in fact he was put together more neatly than a mannequin in a formal- wear display window. "But we're on a roll! We're now represented across the nation, with state leadership elected in all fifty states. Through this leadership we held our nominating elections for a presidential candidate in the last twenty-four hours. The results, I might add, were nearly unanimous."

The crowd was in the palm of his hand. He played them perfectly.

"We've moved fast," he said, moving away from the moment of tension. "We've moved tremendously fast. But the support we've received from across the nation tells us this is the right thing to do. We're taking the high ground. The people of this nation want leaders of uncompromised integrity and ethical fortitude. That is why we're seeing so much violence against the freeloaders and Mars and villains who run our towns, our states and our nation. The message is clear and the message is this—now is the time to cut out the diseased parasites and replace them with new, healthy, untainted flesh. It is the time for MAEBE."

"Maybe not!" shouted someone in the crowd.

Perry Rhinebeck smiled and waved at the man. The people watching the news conference at home couldn't see him being dragged out. "Of course, maybe not," Rhinebeck admitted. "It seems unbelievable that a political party could have come into existence on a national level in something like two days, but we did it. The people of America practically willed MAEBE into existence. If their will remains strong, MAEBE will be here for the long run."

And with that, Perry Rhinebeck finally announced the name of the presidential nominee.

In his office in Rye, New York, Dr. Harold W. Smith nodded to himself, very slightly, as he heard the name of the presidential nominee of MAEBE.

Mark Howard entered a moment later.

"Orville Flicker," Howard said.

"It makes perfect sense, doesn't it?" Smith asked.

"It does. It sure does."

In his office on the eighth floor, overlooking San Francisco, political editor Adam Clayton nodded.

"Orville fucking Flicker."

One of the secretaries entered a minute later and he was still nodding.

"Orville fucking Flicker!" he said to her.

"Exciting, isn't it?" she asked, clearly enthralled by it all.

"Exciting?" Clayton demanded. "You think stabbing old women is exciting? You think shooting a man four times in the heart is exciting? You think twisting a lamp cord around the neck of a young prostitute until her throat is crushed and her tongue turns black is exciting?"

The secretary left in a hurry.

"I didn't think so," Clayton grumbled, and he sucked on his flask. The bourbon was gone. Where had all that bourbon gone?

Didn't matter. He fished around in the file drawer of his desk and found a fresh bottle of bourbon and started making it be all gone, too.

Between swigs he said the name again like an awful profanity. "Orville Flicker. Orville Fucking Flicker."

"Who's Orville Flicker?" Remo asked.

Chiun looked at him, a mixture of disgust and pity.

"The little space alien from the final season of The

Flintstones wasn't named Orville Flicker, was he?" Remo asked.

"You are saying deliberately stupid things," Chiun accused.

"Just trying to meet your expectations." "You do not need to put in the extra effort. Just act natural."