The Good Times Roll

A quiet night in Chappaqa gives Bill a chance to peruse adult magazines.

“William,” Hillary suddenly says, intruding on his solitude.  “I need your help.”

“What this time, Hill?  I hope it’s fund-raising.”

“I wish,” laments the Madame Secretary.  “But do you remember that annoying place called Congress?  They’re after my email.”

“Again?  The cattle futures thing?”

“No, I got away with that.  This is about that stint I did at Foggy Bottom.”

“Well just hide it all in your closet,” recommends the former president.

“No more room.  Besides, this is electronic, on that server thing in the dining room.”

“That’s what that box is?  A server?  And I thought it was a video game.”

“In a way it is,” cackles Hill, “because bluffing America is always fun!  Here–this laptop shows my emails.  We should eliminate ones that are private.  That’ll make it easy on Congress.”

Bill scrolls through the list.  “Boy, you’ve got a heap about something called Benghazi.  What’s that?”

“Some beach resort,” explains Hill. “So, wouldn’t it be about vacation?  Private.”

“Then delete,” reasons Forty-Two.  “And who’s Vlad Putin?”

“Designed Chelsea’s wedding dress, didn’t he?  More private stuff … go ahead and delete.”

“By golly, Hill, you’re right: this is loads of fun.”

“Just like old times,” reminisces the former First Lady.

“And if we’re lucky, a preview of what’s ahead.”