The Legislative Session

copyright © 2013 by Robert L. Blau

"I hate to ask, but it's been four years since my last transfusion. And I'm getting, you know, ... anemic."

Mo looked uneasy. I really did hate to ask. Putting yourself out there with your boss is always risky and never comfortable.

"Look, you do deserve one, and I'd like to give you one ..."

He tailed off there, as I waited for the "but."

"Only ..."

Ok, not a "but." An "only."

"Only, the House of Minions* is in session," he concluded.

"Yes, I know that." Yes, I knew that. "Why does that matter? I've been a faithful servant for 20 years. Why can't I have a transfusion?"

"It's these ... straitened times," said Mo, picking his words like prickly pears. "The Masters can't tolerate a drop of blood in anyone else's veins, and they can spot a razor nick at a hundred miles. When the House is in session, well ... They would be on us like a ton of bats."

"But isn't our representative sympathetic?" I queried querulously.

"When you say, um, 'our' representative," Mo replied, "I hope you understand that he isn't really ... ours. More like theirs, really, but watching over our district. Having said that, yes, 'our' Renfield is fairly friendly."

"Are they all named 'Renfield?'" I asked.

"A title, a title," said Mo. "Just a title."

"But he wouldn't stick up for us, then?" I asked. "Seeing as we are government servants?"

"In a tight spot ...," said Mo, "no. Of course not. The minions have to serve the ones that put them in power."

"But that's us, isn't it?" I protested. "I mean, I distinctly remember voting!"

Mo gave a strangled guffaw. "Yes, of course," he said.

"So, no transfusion?" I capitulated.

"I'm afraid not," said Mo sympathetically. "If you can just hang on till after the session, we can talk about it again."

 

*A voting quorum would be 10, of course.