I don't feel like getting up. After the presidency everything else is such a let down. What can top hobnobbing with heads of state, talking on television to the whole nation, ordering the Pentagon to invade another country and thousands of soldiers cheering and saluting you? Boy that was something all right, being Numero Uno for eight years. Billy Bob Bubba Clinton has done OK for himself post Oval Office. He's raking in big bucks for yapping away and getting more respect than when he was King, I mean Prez. But he was still sort of popular when he moved on while most everyone hated me by then. I hope it's not all downhill from here on.
"Don't worry, George, we'll find something for you to do."
"What the...? Who said that?"
"Who's there? Who's talking? Where are you?"
"I'm right here with you, gerbil brain; wherever you go, there I am."
"This is a Cheney trick, right? Yeah, yeah, like the time you were leaving heavy breather messages on my private line. You can't fool me, Dickey Bird, I got your number."
"It's not Cheney, George. It's me, your conscience."
"Good try. OK, I'll give you three seconds to show yourself and then the gag's over and I'm calling security. One..."
"It won't do any good. They won't be able to hear me."
"We'll see about that. Two..."
"I'm your conscience, George, only you can hear me."
"Three. I'm pushing the button."
"Agent Frook, there's someone in here."