That Girl Is Poison
“A monkey! A monkey with a banana! A banana!” Bill Clinton gestured that he was ripping it in half, but Monica couldn’t figure out what the heck he was getting at. “Tearing a banana! Crushing a banana! Uh… uh… Donkey Kong! Lorena Bobbit! Shoot… uh…” Bill rubbed his tummy and licked his lips, and continued to rip the make-believe banana in half. “Ooh! Banana split!”
“Yay!” Bill clapped his hands together, his smile as wide as the room they were in. “You nailed it, Monica!”
Monica pumped her fist. “Oh yeah! Nobody can beat me at charades!”
Just then, their dinner arrived. Bill had ordered his usual large bacon cheeseburger, with a big heap of fries and a frosty beer. Monica, who had spoken to the White House chef the last time they met, was coaxed into trying some fancy meal with a European-sounding name, one she couldn’t pronounce if her life depended on it. Bill was giddy when the chef laid it down on the coffee table between them, lifting the lid to reveal a pink sautéed fish accompanied by tiny battered balls of dough and vegetables drenched in a thick white cream.
“That looks… well…” Monica cracked open her Diet Coke, anticipating the need to wash it down quickly. “It looks incredible, Chef. Thank you.”
“You are most welcome, Madam,” the Chef replied, sporting a graciously wide smile. “Do enjoy.”
“Oh… I’m sure I will.” Monica gathered up some of the veggies on her fork as the Chef stepped back, and then courageously took a bite. But it was actually quite delicious and sweet, despite its appearance. She dove in quickly for another forkful before saying, “This is excellent, Chef!”
“I am most pleased that you enjoy it, Madam.” With this, the chef took his bow, and with it his leave, ushering out his helpers as they left the Oval Office, bowing once more before closing the door behind them.
“Is that actually any good?”
“It’s surprisingly delicious,” Monica answered, trying a bite of her fish while Bill dove into his burger. The two of them remained silent for a moment, eating their food. Monica then tried one of the battered dough balls, but this was anything but delicious, and she inadvertently screwed up her face in protest. “Oh… not that.”
“Not a fan, huh?”
“No… yuck…” Monica took a long chug from her soda. “They’re bitter and sour at the same time. I’ve never tasted such bitter balls in my whole life.”
Bill laughed when he heard that. “Aww man, you should see your face right now!”
Monica raced to eat some more of the sweet veggies, hoping their taste would counteract the sourness and bitterness. She was in such a hurry that a glob of the white sauce flung itself down onto the lapel of her green dress. She didn’t even notice until after she had eaten her food and drank some more of her soda. “Shoot! I ruined my dress!”
Aww, it’s fine, let me help you out.” Bill grabbed the napkin from his lap, bunched it up, dipped it in water, and reached over the coffee table, dabbing at the sauce stain. Monica knew in that instant that he was actually touching her breast, and her eyes fell on his, which were focused on his hand… on her breasts…
Monica’s hand shot up to meet Bill’s. “No! I mean, um… no, let me get that.” She wrestled the damp napkin free from the president’s hand and dabbed her own chest, as Bill’s hand retreated back to what few bites were left of his fries. “Silly me, I think it may be ruined.”
“Nah, that should come right out,” Bill explained, pausing to eat his last fry. “Back before I was Governor in Arkansas, I did all of our laundry. If you need advice gettin’ stains out, I’m your man.”
Monica looked down, examining the stain. He was right, it would wash right out. “I’m glad. I really love this dress. It’s one of my favorites. My one blue dress is my absolute favorite, though.” She started to adjust the lapels a bit. That’s when she noticed that Bill was staring at her chest as her breasts moved around under the motion of the fabric above. His staring made her… uncomfortable? No, the opposite of that. “So, uh… what do you want to do now, Bill?”
Her words broke him from his spell. “Oh… I, uh… I dunno.” He looked around the room, his eyes anxious to find something to look at — anything at all — other than Monica Lewinsky. “Umm, wanna prank-call a foreign country?”
“Can we do that?”
“Sure! Me and Al saw this cartoon on TV once, where these Japanese kids had built this huge robot, so we called the Prime Minister of Japan… or President? Is it President over there? Or maybe he’s the Emperor? Anyway, we called up their leader and asked if they was really buildin’ some giant robot, and boy, those Japanese were mighty surprised by that question.” Bill laughed to himself for a moment, shaking his head mischievously. “Maybe we should call France and demand the recipe for French Toast!”
With this, Bill leapt up from the sofa and darted over toward the Resolute Desk, while Monica stood up and followed, watching as the leader of the free world playfully yanked his seat back and plopped into it.
But just as his backside hit the leather, Bill shot back up, his joyous smile quickly morphing into a hideous grimace of agony. He yelped out painfully, doubling down over the desk and rolling off its side, the telephone and his various knickknacks crashing down to the carpet below. Monica raced over to help, catching him before he fell to the ground as well. His skin was clammy to the touch and pale, as if he’d just seen a hideous ghost. She helped him prop up against the desk, and looked him up and down to see if she could diagnose what was wrong. The wound was obvious; blood was seeping through his trousers, near his crotch.
“Bill? Are you okay? What happened?”
Bill Clinton slowly shifted his eyes up to meet hers. “I… I dunno… something… sharp… biting… nuts…”
“Are you allergic to nuts, Bill? Did you eat nuts?” That wouldn’t explain why his crotch seemed to be bleeding, though. “Did you sit on nuts? Or maybe peanut shells?”
“No… nuts… stabbed…”
“Stabbed? Nuts?” She couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was saying.
That’s when she felt something slither up against her ankle. She looked down, and saw a snake racing toward the side door. She gasped in fear, leaping up onto the Resolute Desk beside where the President was leaning, and watched as the creature scurried out, into a part of the White House Monica had never seen before. She quickly dashed over and closed the door behind it, knowing the creature couldn’t get back in otherwise, and then ran back to the President’s side.
He was even paler now, his eyes listless and drifting, his hands trembling. In a panic, she grabbed the phone and tried to dial out, but it wasn’t working. Bill must’ve broken it during his tumble. She darted back to the main door to the Oval Office, pushing and shoving against it, but it refused to budge, as in that instance she had completely forgotten that the door only opened inward. Believing she was out of options, and never even considering the doors leading out to the Portico, she raced back to the President’s side.
“Bill! Bill! What can I do… what can I… how can I help you?” The President just stared back at her blankly. Without saying another word, Monica undid his pants and pulled them down to his knees. His boxers were bloody as well. She had to see whatever the injury was, so she pulled those down as well. She only barely processed that she was looking at the private parts of America’s President, and immediately examined his genitals for a wound.
That’s when she saw it. Two tiny punctures on the shaft of his manhood. It occurred to her then that the snake must’ve bitten Bill as he tried to sit down. “Bill… you’ve been bitten… by a snake… in your… in your…”
“Poison…” Bill mumbled. “Must… suck out… poison… save… me…”
Monica nodded. She had seen old spaghetti westerns on television before. She knew that sucking the poison out from a snakebite was his only hope. She looked at his genitals once more, examining the wound. The bite marks were angled diagonally on the far sides of the shaft. How on Earth would she get to both sides? Should she suck the poison out one bite at a time? No, she sternly thought to herself, he doesn’t have time for that. Look at him Monica! He’s dying! The President is dying! Your friend! Suck out that poison!
Not knowing what else to do, Monica wrapped her mouth around the whole enchilada, pushing down until she was sure she was over the snakebites, and began to suck as hard as she could. It only took a few seconds for her to taste the horrifically bitter venom. She pulled her head back and spit out the contents of her mouth into a coffee mug on the floor, and then went in for more. When she tasted the snake’s poison again, she turned and spit it out, then went back to it.
She kept this pattern going, back and forth, until she could no longer taste the poison. She glanced up at the President then, noting that the color was coming back to his skin, and he was smiling big and wide. Her technique was working, but Bill still hadn’t said anything, so she went right back to work, sucking out the poison and spitting it out, even though she could no longer taste any poison.
Several cycles later, Bill still hadn’t said anything, but Monica was absolutely certain she wasn’t tasting any more poison. But she was now tasting something salty and sour. Maybe this was more poison? His privates had become engorged, as hard as the top of the desk he was leaning against. She obviously wasn’t going fast enough, so she now went back to it full-bore, sucking and spitting, sucking and spitting, sucking and spitting, faster and faster.
Just then, Bill let out a loud groan. His hands grabbed hold of her shoulders. And suddenly, lots and lots of poison came bursting into Monica’s mouth all at once. She tried to stop to spit it out, but Bill grabbed the back of her head, holding her in place. She clearly hadn’t gotten all of it, so she continued to suck out the poison until he let go of her, at which point she stumbled away and dumped a mouthful of poison into the mug.
Monica looked up at Bill, who stayed quiet, almost blissful, as he put himself away and buckled up his pants. That’s when Monica realized she had just been sucking out snake poison for several minutes, and needed to rinse her mouth out. She shot up to her feet and turned to the coffee table, taking a bunch of water into her mouth and swishing it around before spitting it into Bill’s empty beer stein. She repeated that process several times, until the stein was full and she could no longer taste the poison.
“That… that was nice…” Bill placed his hand on Monica’s shoulder, whispering into her ear. “Thank you, Monica.”
“Are you feeling better, Bill?”
“Better? Shucks… I ain’t never felt better a day in my life!”
Just then, the door to the Oval suddenly burst open, and several Secret Service agents rushed toward the President. “Sir, we crashing the White House,” one of the agents said sternly. “There’s a situation. We need you to stay here in the Oval Office for a few minutes.”
“What? What situation?”
“Sir, we have reason to believe there is an animal on the loose inside the West Wing. We believe it’s a poisonous snake, Mister President.”
“A snake?” Bill looked at Monica, and the two of them smiled. “You don’t say. Is it dangerous?”
“We believe so, sir. If it were to bite you… we won’t let that happen, sir.”
“If it did happen sir, we’re here for you,” another agent announced reassuringly. “We’re trained in poison removal. I’d suck the poison out of you sir.”
Bill giggled. “Would you? You’d suck the poison out?”
“Yes sir, it would be my honor.”
Bill and Monica looked at each other again, smiled, and fought the urge to burst out in laughter, but it was a losing battle. They both erupted at the same time, laughing harder and louder than either had ever laughed before.