Bidenbot 2000
Joseph Robinette Biden Jr., former Vice President, Senator, and experimental aircraft pilot, nearly died in the XTC-250 plane. His body was ravaged and torn to pieces, his brain obliterated, his legs completely severed when the XTC hit the side of the Rockies. All but declared dead to the rest of the world, the Democratic Party rejected the idea of making the Presidential contender a martyr. Instead, Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi slammed her fists on her desk and stretched back her plastic skin in a grimace:
“We have the technology! We have the taxpayer’s money! We can re-build Joe Biden!”
In a dank, moldy basement of an undisclosed V.A. hospital, a man on a squeaky cot, wrapped in bandages, stares blankly into space. A red dot on his forehead jumps up and down in time with a beeping sound. He is surrounded by two government agents, Steely and Dan, as well as Nancy Pelosi and Dr. Fauci.
“I LIKE ICE CREAM!” Biden shouts. “I LIKE ICE CREAM!”
“It didn’t fucking work, Fauci!” Pelosi says.
“Oh, contraire, Ms. Senator,” Fauci giggles, wringing his hands. “It worked… immaculately…” Fauci takes a small tube, removes the top, taps out a line of powder on his wrist, snorts it, and laughs. He stomps his feet, rears back, and hee-haws like a jackass.
Concerned glances pass between Pelosi and the agents.
“I LIKE ICE CREAM!” Biden screams.
“Bullshit!” Pelosi says. “The man is retarded, Doctor. What the hell is all that hooked up to his back?”
“He’s being charged, Ms. Senator,” Fauci readjusts his glasses, pops two Adderall, shakes his head, and punches the air. “Injuns!”
Pelosi waits to speak until Fauci composes himself. “Being charged, Doctor?!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Fauci steps behind the cot and shows Pelosi a tangled mess of wires taped together, connected to a black extension cord plugged into a port on Biden’s back.
“You gotta be shitting me,” Pelosi says. “Where’d you get this equipment, Doctor?”
“Radio Shack,” Fauci replies. “In Hong Kong.”
Pelosi sighs. A beaten expression crosses her face for a fleeting moment, then she stiffens. A scowl replaces the previous countenance, and her hands fall to her hips.
“Bring him to my private resort tomorrow morning to… test… this godforsaken experiment.” Pelosi steps toward the doorway, her heels clicking loudly on the gray concrete floor. “This better work,” she says, pointing a finger at Fauci, “or you’ll be a pharmacist in a ghetto store in Peoria!” Fauci watches Pelosi stomp out, laughing uproariously.
“What’s so funny?” Steely asks.
“She pretty much bitched you,” Dan says.
“She has NO IDEA what powers I have,” Fauci says, laughing maniacally and swallowing three Benzedrine capsules. He moves to the door and watches Pelosi climb the spiral staircase. He brings his thumb and forefinger up to his squinting eyes. “I… crush your head…” he says, giggling. “I… crush your head… I… crush your head!”
Steely and Dan exchange glances. No words are spoken. It’s understood that the good Doctor is bat-shit crazy.
“I like Ice Cream!” Biden barks, standing near the bed with the cord from his back plugged into a wall socket.
Dan settles into the tub opposite Steely. Bubbles rise to Steely’s neck, and the water starts to cool. He turns the faucet on, warming it up. Both men still wear their dark glasses, never removing them. Steely often wonders if Dan’s eyes are blue or brown; in his fantasies, sometimes Dan has no eyes at all, just dark holes large enough for…
“I like Ice Cream!” Biden screams.
“Are you sure he’s plugged in right?” Steely asks.
“I like Ice Cream!” Biden shouts again.
“He’s talking, right?” Dan quips.
“Remember what happened in Fauci’s office? He went berserk, smashed up the place while singing Twisted Sister, then just died on the spot.”
“He’s plugged in right, okay?”
“Okay. Just remember to pick up a pair of jogging pants for him. Fauci can’t see the hole in his rear end.”
“Ohhhh… yeah. I’m sorry, Steely. You know how I get when I see full buttocks,” Dan says.
“Oh, yes,” Steely replies, giggling. They both twirl their feet in the bubbles.
“I like Ice Cream!” Biden yells.
At Senator Pelosi’s compound:
“Where are those idiots?” Pelosi says.
Fauci shoots up a concoction of Mountain Dew, cocaine, and foot powder into his right arm. He sighs, feeling a surge in his bugged-out eyes, and does a tap dance for Pelosi.
“I see them right now,” Fauci says, pointing to the sky and hee-hawing.
Pelosi is speechless at first but soon finds her words, adopting an unusually calm demeanor. “Good… God…”
In the distance, Biden is soaring through the clouds, spread-eagle. Steely and Dan sit on his stomach, playing cards. As Biden comes in for a landing on the grass, all can see he is dressed in a maroon tracksuit from the 1970s, with huge lapels and matching bell bottoms. Steely and Dan slide off Biden and stand at attention, expressionless as government agents.
Biden stands and announces, “I like Ice Cream!”
“I am dumbfounded, Doctor,” Pelosi says, circling Biden slowly, looking him up and down. “And, dare I say it… a little… turned on.”
“Yes,” Fauci wrings his hands. “You should be,” he laughs maniacally. “I doused Bidenbot2000 with male tiger piss!”
Pelosi catches her breath, her chest heaving. Steely and Dan both touch a button on each of Biden’s shoulders. He performs a few robotic moves, including the robot, the worm, and the curly shuffle. In the process, Biden exhausts all his battery juice, bows, and shuts down. Pelosi is shocked to see the seat of Biden’s pants ripped open.
“What the hell happened to his pants?!” Pelosi shouts.
Fauci is more curious about something else. “Why is his asshole bleeding?”
Steely’s mouth gapes open. “You did it again after we fixed him?”
Dan gulps, his body twitching slightly. “I’m sorry,” he whines. “I couldn’t help myself!”
