“Why did you do it, Mr President?”

“Please, call me Phil. Can I have a cigarette now?”

“No, and no.” Sounds of meaty, cracking violence.

“Now Mr President, don’t get blood on the carpet. Why did you do it?”

“Think I could have some Visine?”

“Nice try.” Aside: “Hey, send in the Nutcracker.” To the president. “We got a buddy coming for a chat with you.”

“Hey, I remember him. He did some good work for us in the Gulf.”

“Well, this time around he’ll be practically unforgettable.”

“We’re good buds, you know. His days are not long. He’s got the can—”

“Oh, here you are, Doctor. Yes, the patient is waiting. Please… don’t hold back.”

“Surely you don’t doubt my professionalism?”

“No, of course—_no!_ Shoot him for the love of God!”

“Thanks, Frederick.”

“No problem, Phil. Remember your promise.” A body hitting the floor. Then more bodies.

“I love mirrors!”

With a banging of doors, the President was loose, and he now wore a mad wild roving stare.