With no chance of becoming President, the Mayor lashes out.
Former Mayor Rudy Giuliani paced about his office wearing blue high heels and a kimono. His balding head was covered with mosquito netting and he wore an oven mitt on his right hand.
"Damn Communists!," he snarled as he pointed to a pamphlet in his mitt entitled "Obama, the Child as a Commie," written by none other than Former Mayor Rudy Giuliani. "I put in hours of research and even found a picture of a Kenyan boy reading 'Das Kapital," but not one damn editor remembered to spellcheck the word 'octopus.' "Without the octopus," he screamed, there is no conspiracy!"
Sobbing uncontrollably, Hizzoner threw the pamphlet across the room, hitting a framed photograph of the Mayor shaking hands with Winston Churchill. "Churchill would not tolerate lukewarm nachos and neither will I!"
Chuck Weller, a member of the Mayor's inner circle in the heady days after 9/11, helped the Mayor to his feet and led him to a bed made of sponges on the other side of the room. "Rudy has his moments," he whispered to me, "but this is actually one of his better days. But don't think we haven't thought about sponging the walls too."
Seemingly comforted by his 'binky' and a Statue of Liberty snow globe, Giuliani opened his kimono revealing an array of Jell-o Pudding Pops
strapped across his concave chest. "Me likey the pudding," he gleefully announced. "If not for the pudding, there would be chaos."
Giuliani smiled. "My father Harold fought in the Battle of Hastings in 1066. You would think the American people would've taken that into account when they didn't vote for me. I may still run again, but not as a Republican. I may run as a Smurf."
He giggled, then lunged at me like a very slow torpedo. I calmly stepped aside as the Mayor tripped over his morning breakfast sandwich and fell to the floor. "I am the Lizard King," he said weakly as Chuck dutifully picked the Mayor up and led him to his desk.
The large oak desk was cluttered with an assortment of papers, gum wrappers, photos of Johnny Carson and Bjork, and a Play-Doh Fun Factory
. "At the height of my powers, well into my second term", he offered, "this fun factory was producing over 10 thousand pounds of string cheese per day. Then came the crash in 2008. I had to let go 80 percent of the teeny tiny workers inside here. It was the worst day of my life. Yes, we still run a barebones operation here, but we just can't keep up with the demand for synthetic onions."
He wrapped his hands around the colorful factory and began eating the residual Play-Doh stuck to the expulsion tube. "Nummy nummy, " he said in a singing-like fashion, "I got goop in my tummy!"
As the Mayor continued to sing his improvised "Nummy Nummy" song, I decided this was a good time to leave. "Hope to see you back here again," said Chuck. "The Mayor likes your company."
I made my way to the door, then turned back towards the Mayor, a man once considered a hero by many Americans, a man who once commanded respect and admiration.
"Bye bye!" yelled Giuliani as a glob of Play-Doh hung from his chin. "Always nice to see you, Diane! Tell Herb I still have his fishing line!"
I couldn't have exited too quickly.