New Hampshire Is for Lovers

"You're going to run the president as an outsider?" Luis asked. "Yes, Luis," Daniel said, for that was his name.

By Dave Eggers

Jul 29, 2004 | Debbie Delaware, J. Junior Inferior Jr.'s senior advisor for the campaign and special projects, found him in his study. She had bad news, and knew that Junior did not like bad news just shoved into his face.

He didn't want to read it in a newspaper or see it on TV. He didn't want to hear it over the phone or see it on a fax. He wanted to hear it faintly, as if it were an orphan, hooded and scared, wandering through the woods toward him. As if it were an echo of an echo, something vague and possibly not real. That way he could ignore it if he chose to.

Debbie Delaware found a place across the room and behind a loveseat. She crouched down and spoke as if she were the loveseat, as if the loveseat could speak. And she did so in a Chinese accent, for this cracked Junior up and made the bad news go down easier.

"Sah?"

"Yes, Debbie-san?"

He was already chuckling.

"I have-a some-a in-fo-ma-shun about duh campaign."

"Oh?" His voice had already been drained of some of his mirth.

"It-uh, not so good, sah."

"Really?"

"No-suh. Not so good at all, sah."

"Why? Do we know?"

"Welr, ah..."

"You can talk normally, Debbie. I feel strong today."

Debbie got up from behind the loveseat and walked over to the president and sat on a chair. Her knees ached.

"Our information indicates that there's a perception--"

"Oh no. Don't tell me."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"I hate perceptions! They're so hard to put your finger on."

"Yes, sir."

"I need something concrete."

"OK, there are some polls--"

"Nope. Nope. You know how I feel about polls."

"Yes, sir."

"Well?"

"I got the information ... in a letter from a constituent?"

"And?"

"Well, you're apparently falling behind because some people, Mr. President, see you as a Washington insider."

"But I hate Washington insiders!"

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Why would I be lumped in with those guys?"

"I can find that out."

Debbie Delaware went to back to her desk, made some calls, typed some keys on her computer, and returned a few minutes later with the information.

"Sir, it has something to do with the idea of your meeting with members of Congress, with foreign dignitaries, with your instigating policy--"

"But I never do any of that stuff!"

"Yes, sir. It does seem unfair."

"It's so unfair!"

"Yes, sir."

"It's retarded."

He kicked the coffee table, spilling his fruit punch.

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