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 5. Begin Transcript:
“Hello? Anybody here? Hey, is there really anyone down here?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m the pizza guy, sir!”
“I didn’t order pizza!”
“Just as well, because I haven’t got any!”
“What are you doing here, kid?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea, buddy.”
“Look, I’m expecting some soup, so when you go upstairs, could you, umm, ask them where it is?”
“Soup?”
“Yes, soup. What, are you deaf, kid?”
“Sorry, almost forgot. I was supposed to deliver this to you.”
“Is that my soup?”
“It better be, boss, because if I’m delivering a baby, I should’ve washed up!”
“Um.. it’s soup, of course it’s soup, just put it down, here, on the desk.”
“Yes, sir. Here you go, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“Yeah, are there crackers?”
“How would I know? I don’t work here.”
“Come on, man! If you don’t work here, why did you ask if there’d be anything else?”
“I dunno. Force of habit, I guess. I see the crackers, though, they’re right in front of the soup bowl.”
“No they aren’t!”
“Oh, sorry, I mean, behind the soup bowl. Right here.”
“Well, make up your mind, you lying dog-faced pony soldier!”
“Man, that escalated quickly. It’s in front of the soup from my perspective, and behind the soup from yours, sir!”
“Oh. Hmm… Well, what is it?”
“What’s what?”
“What’s the soup tonight, son?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like I made it.”
“What, didn’t they tell you when they handed it to you?”
“Oh, yeah, right. Something Turkey… Turkish Chickpea and Lamb Soup, sir. That’s it.”
“Oh. Is it good?”
“Beats me.”
“Didn’t you try a cup upstairs?”
“Why would I do that?”
“The other kid used to sample it and tell me how it was.”
“Why don’t you try it yourself, buddy, and then you’ll know?”
“Hmmm… What’s in this?”
“I told you. They said it’s Turkish chickpea and lamb, sir.”
“Lamb?”
“That’s what they said.’
“Why lamb?”
“How should I know? Maybe the budget was tight so they looked for something sheep.”
“What’s that?”
“No pulling the wool over YOUR eyes…”
“Come on, man!”
“Hey, ya know who you sound like when you say that? You sound just like… ummm… err… wait a minute… ”
“What?”
“Wait a minute, are you, are you really…”
“Am I spilling? Am I really spilling again? Oh, I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy… that’s why the cook sends down so many napkins…”
“You look just like Joe Biden!”
“I can beat Joe Biden. I’m just the guy to beat Joe Biden. That’s why I’m running for Senate…”
“Are you Joe Biden, sir?”
“Who are you, anyway?”
“I told you, sir, I came to the door to deliver a pizza to your cook, and she said she’d give me ten bucks if I took this soup downstairs, sir. That’s all. I don’t know any more than that, sir.”
“Wait, the cook ordered pizza from a pizza place?”
“Guess so, sir.”
“The same cook who makes me a different delicious soup every single day?”
“Guess so, sir.”
“The cook who herself has an entire kitchen full of ingredients at her disposal, so she could eat practically anything she wants?”
“Guess so, sir.”
“And she ordered dinner for delivery from a pizza place???”
“Well, sir, everybody’s in the mood for pizza sometimes, you know…”
“And you don’t even work for me?”
“Well, sir, I guess in a way, we all do, don’t we?”
“Why didn’t the cook come down and deliver my soup?”
“Well, sir, she said she was busy cooking, sir.”
“Cooking what?”
“The soup, sir.”
“But it was done, it had to be done, if she could serve it to me! What was she doing when you left?”
“Uh, she’d just sat down at the table with the housekeeper.”
“Oh. Planning tomorrow’s menu?”
“No, sir, eating the pizza I delivered.”
“Eating the pizza?”
“And, uh, doing the crossword, sir.”
“The crossword?”
“Yes sir, in pen, sir.”
“In pen?”
“Well, sir, it was the Washington Post.”
“Oh.”
“Um, I should be going, sir…”
“No, uh, stick around and keep me company.”
“What’s that, sir? Umm… don’t you have meetings, or something, sir?”
“Nah. Not this late. they only schedule me for a couple things a day, usually in the morning. Rest of the time I sit down here and watch the news.”
“The news, sir?”
“Yeah. Gotta know what’s going on.”
“When I got here, sir, you had Super Smash Bros on.”
“Well, gotta keep in practice.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“So whaddaya say, want to play some checkers when I finish my soup?”
“Um, thank you, sir, I’m, uh, honored, sir, but … man, this is surreal… you see sir, I’m at work, and I really should get back to the pizzeria, sir, for my next route, sir.”
“Do you have any more in the car? i could buy them?”
“Well, sir, umm, pizza doesn’t work that way, sir.”
“Huh? You make it, I buy it. Isn’t that it?”
“Well, no, sir, they put each person’s order in the car, sir. Three, four, five, orders, sir, depending on how close they are to each other so they can be delivered while they’re still hot, sir. We don’t have extra food to sell on the way, sir.”
“Oh.”
“And anyway, sir, you were my last stop on this run.”
“Oh.”
“So now I’m due back, because they’ve probably got a couple more orders for me to deliver, sir.”
“Oh.”
“So, umm, I guess I’ll be going, sir, if you don’t mind, sir.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t know the rules, sir… the etiquette, sir.”
“Oh, no, I don’t wear epaulets.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Epaulets were the thing in the 70s. Lot of sports shirts with epaulets back then. Nowadays, that’s really just the military who uses ’em.”
“No, sir, I meant, I don’t know the etiquette, sir. I don’t know if I’m supposed to wait until I’m dismissed, or if I’m supposed to back out, or bow, or what, sir… I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was coming down to see you, sir, I, um, I thought I was just delivering soup to some old grandfather who can’t climb stairs anymore.”
“Can too!”
“Pardon, sir?”
“I CAN climb stairs! That fall… it was rigged! Sabotage! It wasn’t my fault!”
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean anything, sir… look, I’m sorry, but I’m nervous, sir, and, umm, really baffled, sir. Forgive me if I’ve been clumsy, sir…”
“Clumsy? Hell, I’m clumsier than you. Hey, when you go upstairs, could you ask if they have any more soup? This was good.”
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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