Knowing Who You Serve

Yes, yes, I have been to see the President, and he has seen me. Please quiet down. I have much to tell. It was a long and dangerous journey, and gaining entrance to the inner sanctum was no mean feat, I can tell you. But I do not wish to dwell on that. When I first saw the President, he was surrounded by hundreds of ... Them. But I must admit that he appeared to hold Them in thrall. They hung on his every movement, his every action and applauded frequently. Although what it was that he was doing, exactly, was a mystery to me. Something Presidential, I figured.

When he got off duty, the President allowed me to visit in his chambers. He seemed rather secretive about it, and I asked why.

"You don't want to attract Their attention," he whispered. "They might not let you leave."

"Ah, but I have your protection!" I reminded him.

"Um, ... er, ... ahem, .. harrumph," he muttered.

I was going to ask him to repeat that, but I had to get on to our urgent business.

"There has just been another Slaughter," I said.

"Er, yes," he mumbled, not meeting my eyes.

"We elected you to stop the Slaughters," I reminded him. "Because the last guy was so useless. We all remember how you drilled him a new one on the issue. We went hoarse with cheering, I recall."

"Er, yes," he repeated. "I'm working on that."

"Working on it?" I echoed, probably a bit stupidly.

"It's not that simple," he said.

"It's not?" I burbled, still in stupid mode.

"Er, no," he replied. "You can't just do it. Not all at once. It has to be a gradual, responsible process."

"I'm afraid I didn't understand any of that," I said diffidently.

"I said, I'm working on it!" He seemed angry.

"Is that what you were doing out there?" I asked in all innocence.

I didn't think it was possible for our kind to blush, but he did, fiercely.

"Um, not exactly," he admitted.

"What was all that, anyway? They seemed very impressed," I added conciliatorily.

"That, uh, the bit with the mouth," he mumbled. "Playing horns. And balancing a ball on my nose, and ..." His face was a mask of horror.

"Why?" I asked. "President Slappy, why?"

"You wouldn't believe how good the treats are," he moaned miserably.

"But ... but ... the Slaughters!" I cried. "You were going to stop the Slaughters! Who do you serve, anyway?"

"Them, of course," he croaked. "All of us serve Them. Anyone you send. They slaughter our pups because they do whatever they want, and that's what they want to do."

"Then why do we elect you?" I sobbed. "What's the point? Come to that, why does anyone even want to be President?"

"It's like I said," said President Slappy. "You wouldn't believe how good the treats are."