The Trials of William Jefferson Whatsit

This is a farce in three acts. The first act takes place in the presidential study near the Oval Office — also known as the nookie nook. Act two is set in the presidential boudoir, where the air is definitely chilly. Act three takes place beyond the great divide, that is, when Willie Whatsit meets the Chief Justice of us all.

Act I: In the Nookie Nook

Willie Whatsit: Wow, Veronica, that was great!

Monica Crapinsky: It’s Monica, you schmuck. Get it right. That’s only the fourteenth time I’ve given you a back rub, lard butt.

WW: Well, as leader of the free world, commander-in-chief of the armed forces, and first fund-raiser I’ve got too much on my mind to remember a detail like your first name.

MC: You’d better remember it, buster, because I’ve just been subpoenaed to testify against you in a wrongful discharge suit.

WW: But I haven’t fired anyone since I cleaned out the travel office to make room for the meetings of Hillary’s coven.

MC: Oh, I meant to say “paternity suit.” Paternity, wrongful discharge, same thing. Get it?

WW: Yuk-yuk-yuk. You’re as funny as Orrin Hatch eating a sour pickle. Anyway, if I’m the sue-ee, who’s the sue-er?

MC: You have to ask?

WW: Of course I have to ask. It could be almost anyone, couldn’t it?

Act II: In the Deep Freeze

WW enters the presidential boudoir to find Hillary Ramrod — his liberated, emancipated, and constipated spouse — writing his State of the Union speech.

HR: I heard a rumor that you’ve been cavorting with an intern in your private study.

WW: Who told you that? Come on, I need to know so I can figure out how to wiggle out of this one.

HR: Since you’re not going to be able to wiggle out of this one, I’ll tell you. It was our favorite flack, Sid “The Snake” Loveinbloom.

WW: You can’t believe anything Sid tells you. He’s got the hots for you and he’d say anything to tear me down.

HR: Well, you of all people know that he can have all the “hots” he wants, but it won’t get him anywhere with me. I’ve sworn off sex since I discovered witchcraft. Double, double, toil and trouble, send money to Washington, on the double.

WW: I’m glad you have such a laid-back — I mean relaxed — attitude. I was afraid you’d heard about the paternity suit.

HR: What paternity suit?

WW: What do you mean “What paternity suit?” How do you expect me to keep track of them? Do you think I do all that fund-raising, to help elect a bunch of yokels to Congress?

Scream of rage from HR. Blackout. Loud thwack (simulated by striking Arkansas watermelon with baseball bat).

Act III: Beyond the Blue Horizon

The Great Chief Justice in the Sky: How do you come to be here, Mr. Whatsit?

WW: That’s a trick question if I ever heard one. It depends on what you mean by “come.” Where am I, anyway?

CJ: You’re in the land of the final judgment — beyond civil suits, criminal prosecutions, and impeachment trials.

WW: I always thought you had a flowing white beard and wore a blinding white robe. Why are you wearing that silly black robe with gold stripes on the sleeves?

CJ: Shut up. I ask the questions here. And the robe’s not silly, Justice Sandy made it for me. Do you have anything to say for yourself before I pass sentence on you?

WW: I didn’t do it.

CJ: “It” what?

WW: It depends on what you mean by “it.”

CJ: Enough with the clever wordplay, already. Do you take me for some dumb Senator?

WW: You’re about the right age.

CJ: Before I get any older, I’m sentencing you, William Jefferson Whatsit, to eternal community service, in the “other place.”

WW: Is that the best you can do? The “other place” can’t be any hotter than an Arkansas summer, and I’ll be glad to service the community. There must be some hot babes down there.

CJ: Just for that, I’m changing the sentence. Earphones will be permanently affixed to your ears and you will be forced to listen to right-wing talk radio twenty-four hours a day for all eternity.

WW grins broadly.

CJ: How can that sentence cause you to smile?

WW: It could have been worse. You could have sentenced me to listen to Hillary.

CJ: Mmmm….

Lights dim. Drone of HR reading from It Takes A Village Idiot to Know One swells in volume.