Political Satire: Having trouble surviving these times? You’re not alone. Join us in columnist John F. Di Leo’s exploration of an alternate universe, where we imagine the impossible:
Joe Buckstop, an aging, corrupt old fool, somehow becomes president in his basement, and every night, an aide has to bring him his soup and discuss the events of the day as he prepares to receive his nightly meds…
Dateline, April 4. Begin Transcript:
“Good evening, sir. Where should I put this?”
“Huh? What?”
“Your desk, your conference table? Where do you want it?”
“Who are you?”
“Me? I’m your cook, sir!”
“You are?”
“Yes, sir. I cook for you every day.”
“Oh.”
“So where do I put this, sir?”
“Put what?”
“Your soup, sir.”
“Soup? Where’s that kid?”
“What kid, sir?”
“I don’t know… that kid. The one in law school. The one who brings me soup.”
“You don’t even know his name, sir?”
“Whose name?”
“Heaven help us. No wonder George quit.”
“George? Who’s George?”
“Who were we just talking about? Your aide, the kid who’s been serving you soup and talking with you every night for the past ten weeks, that’s who!”
“Oh, yeah, him. What’s his name?”
“George. His name is George.”
“Oh. Well, where is he?”
“He’s packing, I suppose.”
“Packing? Packing what?”
“Clothing, sir. He’s moving away.”
“Oh. So who’s going to bring me my soup?”
“I brought it tonight. I cooked it, and since you drove off your aide, I’m bringing it down too.”
“Oh.”
“So where do you want it?”
“What?”
“Your soup, sir.”
“Oh, is there soup?”
“Of course there’s soup, sir. That’s why I came down here. I hate basements.”
“This is a basement?”
“You’ve pretty much spent the last year in your basement, sir. You’ve talked it about endlessly ever since the Wuhan Flu hit, sir. Of course we’re in your basement.”
“What’s a Wuhan Flu?”
“Oh, I don’t care what you call it.. You know, the pandemic, the China virus, the Covid. Whatever you want. It’s not important. Just tell me how you want your soup served, sir!”
“Oh, is there soup?”
“Of course there’s soup, sir! How do you want it served?”
“In a bowl, of course! What kind of a question is that? Come on, man!”
“Sir, it’s in a bowl. Of course it’s in a bowl. I’ve been standing in front of you with a tray with a great big bowl in the middle of it for five minutes, sir, of course it’s in a bowl. It’s not like I’d walk downstairs and deliver you soup in … in… handfuls, sir!”
“That would be messy.”
“Yes sir. it’s in a bowl, sir.”
“Well, that’s a relief, anyway.”
“Sir, you are are currently sitting in an armchair in front of a television, in a room with a desk and a conference table in it. I have no idea whether you want me to serve you your soup at your desk or at the conference table, sir. I have asked multiple times, but you have not answered, sir. Please, sir, I have to be at work tomorrow. Just tell me where I can put this tray down, sir.”
“What’s on the tray?”
“Your soup, sir.”
“Oh, soup? I love soup!”
“I know you do, sir. Where should I put it, sir?”
“Where’s the kid who usually brings it?”
“I’ll answer your question, sir, As Soon As You Tell Me Where I Can Put This Tray Down, sir!”
“Depends, what’s on it?”
“Soup, sir!”
“Oh, I eat that at my desk.”
“Thank you, sir. Here you go.”
“Are there crackers?”
“Yes sir. Right here sir. Big bowl of soup, small bowl of crackers, soup spoon, and lots of napkins, sir.”
“Why so many napkins?”
“George warned me that you need a lot of napkins, sir.”
“George? Who’s George?”
“No wonder you drove him off…”
“So, hey, what happened to the kid who used to bring me my soup, anyway?”
“He quit, sir.”
“Quit? Why?”
“Well, sir, I wasn’t sure before, but I think I am now, sir.”
“Mmmm… This is good. What is it?”
“Swiss veal and wild mushroom soup, sir. It’s a variant of a stew they make in Switzerland. Add extra broth, and it’s a soup.”
“Wow. This is really good.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Tell the cook it’s really good.”
“Thank you, sir. I am the cook.”
“You both made the soup and brought it down?”
“Yes sir.”
“Why?”
“Because George quit last night, sir!”
“Who’s George?”
“George came upstairs last night, looked me right in the eye, and said ‘I’m really gonna miss you, but I can’t do this anymore.’ And then he explained about his sister and said he’d told you all about it when he quit, sir, and said he was really sorry he couldn’t give two weeks notice but he just didn’t have a choice, and darn it, he’s just the nicest kid and I hate to see him go…”
“Who’s that again?”
“The law school student, sir. The one who brought you your soup for 10 weeks, sir. The one who quit last night, sir!”
“Oh. Did he get a better job?”
“Well. Now that’s a good question. He’s probably the only person in a law school in America who would think so… but yes, I think he did, sir.”
“He’s in law school?”
“Yes sir. His sister Josie got a job as an assistant choreographer in a Broadway musical that’s touring in Australia, and she offered him a job in the ensemble and as her assistant, sir. He had to give her an answer last night. He said he checked with his law school to see if he could take a semester off, but he wanted to wait until he talked to you first, sir, before he made up his mind.”
“Oh.”
“What did you tell him, sir?”
“Oh?”
“When he asked you what you thought about it, sir?”
“Oh?”
“Sir, he’s a law school student with the wildest part time job ever, a chance to talk with you, in person, for an hour a night, just bringing you soup. Do you have any idea of how prestigious job this would be for any law student, any kid with political aspirations, anywhere, sir?”
“Oh.”
“Bill Clinton met JFK once, just once, and he said it inspired him to go into politics. Imagine a job where a college student gets to talk to you, one on one, every day. Imagine what this would’ve looked like on his resume! What could you have done to drive him off, sir?”
“Oh, I don’t drive anymore.”
“What?”
“I have a driver now.”
“Yes sir, I know.”
“So where is that kid going again?”
“He’s going to Australia, sir.”
“Australia? That’s pretty far. Do they have law schools there?”
“Law schools, sir?”
“Yeah. He wants to be a lawyer, doesn’t he? I seem to remember him telling me he was on his way back from law school one day…”
“Yes, sir, but he’s going there to work with his sister on a Broadway musical, sir.”
“You lying dog faced pony soldier!”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“He can’t be working on a Broadway musical! You said he was going to Australia! Broadway’s in New York!”
“Good heavens.”
“You can’t fool me. Can’t pull the wool over my ears like yesterday’s dinner…”
“Umm, sir, the term Broadway musical is a reference to the type of show it is, sir. It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s on Broadway, sir.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No sir. He and his sister Josie will be working in a theatrical production in Australia, sir.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear it.”
“We are too, sir. He’s a good kid. We’ll miss him.”
“Miss who?”
Copyright 2021 John F Di Leo
Excerpted with permission from “Evening Soup with Basement Joe, Volume One,” from Free State West Publishing, available in paperback or eBook exclusively on Amazon.
John F. Di Leo is a Chicagoland-based international transportation and trade compliance professional and consultant. A onetime Milwaukee County Republican Party chairman, he has been writing a regular column for Illinois Review since 2009. His book on vote fraud (The Tales of Little Pavel) and his political satires on the current administration (Evening Soup with Basement Joe, Volumes I, II, and III), are available in either eBook or paperback, only on Amazon.
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