His face flushed, his cheeks puffing half-syllables of super-heated air, Sen. Porkbelly Fishbottom was about to swallow an aneurysm.
I threw water on his face, trying to cool him. It just sputtered and sizzled.
I tried quietly talking to him, trying to calm him down. He wasn't listening.
After five minutes, I was about to call 911 to report a stroke victim, when he said his first two-syllable word.
"Bama?" I asked. "Something wrong in Alabama? Is the school cancelling its professional football team?"
"Bahma!" he said, spitting out both syllables. His fire-red cheeks drained into his neck, leaving a pasty-white face. He was returning to normal, and there would be no need to call out a $2,500 lifeflight helicopter to take him to the nearest hospital. "Bahma!" he shouted again.
"Bahma? You want to bomb someone? Afghanistan? Syria? Connecticut?"
"Bahma, you fool! Pres'dunt. Traitor. Commie."
"Oh, you mean President Obama," I said.
"Bahma's the problem."
"What problem? Fishbottom was close to speaking in full sentences, so I didn't rush him.
"Killed the music. Lied to the people. Impeach him!"
Since Fishbottom and many of his colleagues spent most of their time sitting on their thumbs, while they figured out newer and better ways to obstruct necessary legislation, I assumed this was similar. It wasn't. The rotund Senator was furious, but now coherent. At least as coherent as he had ever been in his 30-year political career.