“Good morning, Prime Minister.”
“Good morning- yes, I suppose,” the Prime Minister replied groggily. He hadn’t had his coffee yet, and Ali, ever the perceptive one, knew it.
“Here’s your coffee, sir, with a drop of my most luscious spit. It’s a special day, after all.”
The Prime Minister scowled like a 6-year-old disappointed with his Happy Meal toy. He declined the cup of coffee Ali offered with a plastic smile and said “no, thank you. I guess I’ll have to go this one sober,” and to the Grand Hall he headed.
“I’m terribly sorry, Your Excellency. That wasn’t what I meant to convey at all. I hadn’t had my coffee, you see,” he giggled nearvously. “How about we forget all about this while having breakfast in my son-in-law’s estate. It’s absolutely marvelous; it’s located-” His Excellency bothered no more. The PM had nothing to blame but his own inability to stomach spit.
“Ali!” called the PM. No answer. “Ali!” No answer. “Ali!” with some serious intonation going in there. Nothing. “Goddammit, this Ali thinks he’s too invaluable to the State.”
“Yes, sir?” emerged Ali suddenly in the hallway. “You seem terribly stressed. We can’t have that, now, can we?” said Ali in an overly-affectionate manner. “Now here’s your presentation for the Cabinet. Everything you need is in there including your disloyalty. Remember: You are a Conservative. You care about this state more than anything. Or anyone. You are a heartless bastard.” He handed the PM the folder and went along leaving the PM no room for comment or reaction.
The PM was heard shouting through the doors of the Cabinet: “No! You don’t understand! I am a Conservative! I care about this state more than anything or anyone! I’m a heartless bastard!”
Ali extended an ashtray to the PM who’s denied his identity as chief of state for half an hour and went to smoke in the kitchen.
“Why are you such a sour bitch, Ali?”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. A Prime Minister is always corteous in his manner of speaking. You should say something more like ‘why are you resentful of me, Ali?’ to which I will not answer because I think you’re too intelligent for that. But nevermind that, your luncheon with the Foreign Minister is in 15 minutes. You don’t really want to show him how much of a sad sod you really are. He loves his gloating.”
“I have to say, I’m embarassed and sad about the incident at the Cabinet this morning,” said the Foreign Minister. “It might as well ruin the respectable image of our party.”
“Oh, shut it, you sad sod. The party is fine, you just love your gloating.”
“What sort of devil-bred, shit-fed day is this?!” shouted the Prime Minister into the head-rest of the carseat in front of him. “It’s all Ali’s fault! I’ll show the bastard! He’ll know that that termination of service he got was a blessing! That filthy, poisonous bastard!”
2: 45 PM
“Ali! You little prick! Ali!” yelled the PM once he arrived.
“Here, sir. How may I help you?” replied Ali coldly.
“Help me? Oh, no, thank you. I’ve seen what your help could do, you bastard. I just want to let you know that you will wish you took that termination gracefully, you will-”
“Just a moment, sir,” Ali cut him dismissively. “I just need to send this email.”
The PM looked at him flabbergasted. “What sort of breed are you?”
“The most excellent breed fit for your most excellent self, sir. Oh, wait, no. I am too excellent for you. Have a good day and life, sir. This is my cue.”
The PM’s phone rings, he picks up. “Yes, dear?”
“I’ve seen everything. Her? Huh. I thought you had better taste. Asshole.”
And at 2:47 PM, the PM was no more.