Deck of Cards: An HPR Original Series, Chapter 3

Editor’s Note: Several weeks ago the HPR received a series of letters from one of our former staff writers, who currently works as a journalist in Washington, D.C. She has recently been following a prominent politician and has transcribed the following narrative without him knowing. Apparently, he began to watch House of Cards, and subsequently started speaking to himself in extended monologues. 
Read Chapter 1 here.
Read Chapter 2 here.

Despite my best efforts, the nominee for the Secretary of Defense has been confirmed. That door has been closed and locked from the outside. But for every door that closes, there’s a window that can be smashed open. That is why, whenever I lock someone in a room, I make sure that there are no windows.
My window of opportunity is the funding bill for the Department of Homeland Security. An ungainly Leviathan rising from the sea of xenophobic sludge, the DHS is a pile of muck perfectly capable of being shaped into a political golem that can destroy each of my enemies, one by one.
As my wife would say,  “Hey, Fred, I think you’re getting carried away with this.”
As I would respond, “My name is Congressman Overtree.”
We have a very healthy relationship.
The following day, I was sitting in the congressional cafeteria when the Speaker of the House sat down next to me. I was eating a Freedom Combo—Freedom Fries, a Freedom Parmesan Sub, and a Freedom Cola (we haven’t been able to afford Coke since the first round of sequestration)—and waiting for inspiration. And then, like Newton’s proverbial apple, an orange fell next to me.
“How’s it going, Fred?” said Speaker John Boehner.
“Hi, John.”
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
“You’re running for president.”
“What? No. Of course not.”
“You want me to run for president.”
“No. Fred—”
“Ok, I’ll do it.”
“Fred, stop it! Stop it.” He took a deep breath and loosened his tie. He’s been so stressed ever since he got the speakership. He tries to hide it, but he sweats like a fruit that has just been taken out of the refrigerator. I take a bite. Yum.
“What is it, John?”
“This whole Homeland Security thing. I’m worried that I won’t get support to extend the funding.”
“From the Democrats?”
“No, from the Republicans.”
“Who did that?” I asked.
I did that. I placed the seeds of doubt into the minds of the Tea Partiers and the right-wingers, telling them that this was our only chance to get rid of the President’s immigration policy. I also bribed them. I bribed all of them.
“I don’t know,” said Boehner. “But I think someone has it out for me.”
“It was me.”
“I have no idea who it is.” John Boehner is slightly deaf. One time he went swimming, and he’s had water in his ear ever since. He told me once that whenever he turns his head, he hears a noise like a wave crashing down upon his skull. I told him that that was the sound of Fate. But, again, he didn’t hear me. All of this is beside the point. “I need your help, Fred,” he continued. “I need someone who I know is on my side.”
“I’m here for you.”
“They’re trying to push me out of the Speakership, you know.”
“Indeed.” How little he knows. I’ll push him out of the Speakership. I’ll push him out of the window. The window of opportunity.
You’re probably pretty impressed by now: my metaphor has come full circle. I worked on that for about 50 hours.
I like my metaphors like I like my meat: well done, crispy, burnt.
Image credit: Wikipedia