The Cat's Pajamas by Ray Bradbury Read Free Book Online

brought in.
    â€œOkay, drink up and let’s solve this mess.”
    He scowled at them and said, “My God, you make the Rolling Stones look like the Last Supper.”
    There was a long silence.
    â€œWho’s responsible? Senator Hamfat?”
    â€œHamfritt,” murmured one of the senators.
    â€œHamfritt. Hold on. Smith, do the news media know about this?”
    â€œNot yet, sir.”
    â€œMy God, if the networks ever found out we’d be road-kill.”
    â€œThere was a call from CNN an hour ago, wondering what’s going on....”
    â€œSend someone to shoot them.”
    â€œWe can’t do that, Mr. President.”
    â€œTry.”
    The president turned back to the thirteen senators. “All right, tell me just how you managed to give away our purple mountain majesties and fruited plains.”
    â€œNot outright, the whole kit and caboodle,” said one senator. “It happened piecemeal.”
    â€œPiecemeal!” shouted the president.
    â€œWe started slow and gained speed. We played poker at first, but got excited and moved on to blackjack, but then roulette seemed best.”
    â€œRoulette, sure. That way you lose everything fast.”
    â€œFast,” the senators agreed, nodding.
    â€œAnyway, you know how it is when you’re losing, you double your bets. So we doubled up and offered the Indians North and South Carolina, and by God, we lost them too. Then we drank some more and got excited and offered them North and South Dakota, and lost!”
    â€œGo on,” said the president.
    â€œThen we bet California.”
    â€œThat was a double bet?”
    â€œYes, sir, California is really four states: north and south, Hollywood and L.A.”
    â€œOh,” said the president.
    â€œAnyway, in a few hours we lost about everything and someone had the idea that maybe we should call Washington, DC.”
    â€œI’m glad you thought of that,” said the president. “Smith, is any of this crud legally binding?”
    â€œOnly if you consider the reactions of France, Germany, Russia, Japan, and China, Mr. President.”
    â€œOkay. Are there any lawyers in this damn casino?”
    â€œSure,” said the attaché. “Two hundred of ’em at poker upstairs. Shall I get one?”
    â€œAre you nuts!?” said the president. “Within hours we’d be up to our chins.”
    The President sat for a long moment, his eyes closed, gripping his knees, white-knuckled, as if he were running blind into a mountain.
    He wet his lips half a dozen times, but only when he clenched his knees tighter did the steam come out of his mouth in a hiss and sputter. “Of all the stupid, dim-bulb, halfwit, half-ass, crazy—”
    â€œYes, sir,” one of the senators said.
    â€œI’m not done!” the president cried.
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œOf all the damned silly, blind—”
    The president stopped.
    â€œDim-bulb bastards,” someone suggested.
    â€œRum-headed, bastard idiots!”
    Everyone nodded.
    â€œManiac, lunatic, mindless, stupid jerks! Jesus God, God almighty!”
    The president opened his eyes. “Do you realize that, in comparison, this will make the United Nations look like a gathering of angels? A congress of Einsteins! A full house of Fathers, Sons, and Holy Ghosts!”
    Silence.
    â€œMr. President, sir, your face is very red.”
    â€œI thought,” said the president, “it would be purple. Is there anything in the Constitution that would let the president beat up, kill, massacre, hang, electrocute, or draw and quarter these dumb-cluck senators?”
    â€œNothing in the Constitution, Mr. President,” Smith said.
    â€œAt the next session of Congress, put it in.”
    At last he ceased and let his fists fall open. He stared at each empty paw to see if some answer lay there. Tears fell from his eyelashes.
    â€œWhat’re we gonna do?” he bleated.