"Hennnnnnnry Hyyyyyyde...Hennnnnnry Hyyyyyde....."
Congressman Henry Hyde sat up in his bed and blinked at the spectral
figure looming at the foot of the bed. It was the ghostly image of a man, draped in long
loops of what looked like thin brown plastic ribbon. As the fog of sleep cleared from the
Congressman's
eyes, he noted the hunched posture, the heavy five o'clock shadow, the
unmistakable ski-jump nose...
"President Nixon!" Hyde gasped. "But you're...you're dead!"
"Oooh, keen grasp of history, bright boy," the apparition sneered. "No
wonder they made you Chairman."
"What's that you've got wrapped around you? It looks like...is that..."
"Yes. It's recording tape. I'm afraid they have a really lame sense of
humor in the afterlife. I have a message for you. I am the Ghost of Impeachment Past."
"Wait a minute, isn't there supposed to be another ghost before you?"
"We're downsizing. Everybody's having to do the work of the ghosts that
got laid off...Now shut up and pay attention. The other ghosts and I are going to show
you what happens when you run a President out of office." The ghost waved his arm,
and suddenly Hyde saw before him a television screen, playing a series of news reports.
The news was all bad. Hyde saw images of double-digit inflation, long
gas lines, America being embarassed abroad, and people dressed in obnoxious polyester
clothing. Hovering over all was the jack-o'lantern grin of a President so moral and
upright that no one could stand him, who blamed everything on the nation's "malaise."
Hyde could hear the background music getting louder. Was that...no...it COULDN'T be...
"AGGGH!" Hyde shouted, falling on the floor and putting his hands over his ears.
"DISCO! Make it STOP! Make it STOP!"
"What a weenie," the ghost of Nixon said as he and the TV disappeared
with a smoky poof !
As the figure of the late President vanished, Hyde sat up and shook his
head to clear it. "I have GOT to lay off the anchovy pizzas before bed," he mused.
Suddenly, another figure stood before him.
This one was a tall dark-haired man with an expression of
terrible seriousness on his mostly immobile face. He was dressed in an expensive blue
suit which, Hyde saw with horror, had leaves and vines growing out of it and twining
around the man's body.
"Good evening, Chairman Hyde," the man said in a deep, steady, but
incredibly monotonous voice.
"Mr. Vice President?" Hyde gaped. "It's nice to see you, but how did
you..." he stopped in astonishment as a bird flew out of the man's left ear and began
building a nest in his hair.
"I am the Ghost of Impeachment Present," the figure said earnestly. "If
Bill Clinton is removed from office, you will see me again. Let me tell you all about
global warming..."
As the ghost went on, Hyde felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier. He
fought vainly to stay awake, because he knew what the ghost was trying to tell him was
important, but the steady drone was like being hit repeatedly in the head with a blunt
instrument. Hyde finally succumbed and collapsed face-down on the floor by
the bed.
Hyde came back to consciousness with a start. There before him was a
tall, black-robed figure, its face hidden by the folds of a dark hood.
"You must be the Ghost of Impeachment Yet to Come," Hyde shuddered.
"Show me what you must, spirit..." From behind the ghost, a pair of men in cheap
black suits and dark glasses stepped forward, holding a pile of tattered magazines. Hyde
saw the titles: Penthouse", Hustler , and several particularly well-worn issues of Big
Gazonga Review .
"Congressman Hyde?" one of the men asked. "I'm Agent Fleem, FBI. Is this your smut?"
"Well, um, I'm not sure, it could be, I mean it's not illegal or anything..."
"Evasive answer. Come with us." They immediately shackled the Congressman and
began dragging him off, cackling in high-pitched, evil voices: "It's not about sex, it's
about perjury...it's not about sex, it's about perjury..."
Hyde awoke, trembling and moaning in terror. "What's wrong, honey?" his
wife asked in concern.
"Oh, sweetums, it was awful," Hyde said. He told her all about the vision, diplomatically leaving out the part about "Big Gazonga Review."
"Does this mean you're not going to vote for impeachment?" his wife asked.
"Of course I'm going to vote for impeachment," Hyde snapped. "I don't
listen to the American people, and they're alive! You think I'm going to be stopped by
three ghosts?"
And so he did.
And so, to paraphrase Tiny Tim: God help us, every one.
1998 Jerry D. Rhoades, Jr.
