Medieval Times®

Jimmy checked himself out in his bathroom mirror. His left hand was clutching his tie and his right hand was grasping the knot of his tie.

"Pretty sharp there Jimmy," he said aloud because he often said things aloud. "You got it pretty much made. You're blessed. You can do no wrong. You got the wife, you got the kids, you got the Mercedes, you got the job lording it over scientists and soldiers. What else is there for you to accomplish? I ask you. Maybe I should write a book. An autobiography. Boyhood. My horse Jerry. Overcoming divorce. Never having to worry about money, prep school, Harvard. Everything falling into place. Why was it so effortless for me? Must be because I'm just so great. Okay. I call this meeting adjourned."

He went down his semicircular staircase with its ebony banister of his and went into his kitchen where his wife was drinking her morning screwdriver made from ingredients he had paid for.

"Good morning, darling!" he sang.

"Hello," she said.

He looked out his window, out onto his lawn and his swimming pool. One of his servants was already out there, raking up Jimmy's leaves.

"That one's Manuel, isn't he?"

His wife said, "Probably."

"He's quite handsome."

"Oh?"

"Yes. A good buck. Do you have any interest? Should I lend him to you?"

"No thanks."

"Suit yourself!"

Jimmy drank some of his orange juice from one of his favourite glasses and ate a piece of his toast. "Must fly!" he cried to his wife.

"Suit yourself."

"Ha-ha, I get it. You're being amusing."

He went out his front door and to his Mercedes in his driveway. He got in, shoved his key in the starter thing, and rounded his circular driveway and went down his laneway, and then he was on someone else's road and he didn't like that one bit.

"If this was my road, it would be a better road."

He drove quickly to his work building. Back on solid ground! He waved to his security fellows and parked in his spot--nearest his building. He went through his private entrance, went up to his office, sat in his office chair, and proceeded to do his job as Chief Executive Officer of the United States Department of Nuclear Missiles, Nuclear Warheads, and Related Weapons of Mass Incineration and Destruction.

He called in his secretary, who was certainly the finest secretary in the world.

"Ah, Joanie. It's really good to see you."

"Yes. What do you want?"

"Is there any new business, any old business?"

"Dolph and Trudi are waiting to see you. There's in confrontation."

"Oh my! Send them right in."

Joanie left. Joanie was obviously beautiful. She was hired because of it. Jimmy loved how she made him feel; not powerful particularly. There must have been something else to it! But now's not the time to go into it.

In came his Administrator of Isotopes and Body Counts Dolph Newton and his Administrator of Public Relations and Received Wisdom Trudi Jensen. Both had unusually mussy hair.

Jimmy stood and shoved his thumbs in his suspenders. "What seems to be the problem, then?"

Trudi said, "He's been stealing my muffins from the fridge."

Dolph said, "Only if they've gone stale, like, three days stale!"

She turned on him. "I give them to birds!"

Dolph said, "The birds around here are already too fucking fat!"

Jimmy didn't quite yell, "Now, now, there's no need for that kind of language, there are children present. How about if Dolph eats every other three day old muffin? Doesn't that solve everything fairly?"

Trudi said, "Not at all! He's a murderer to boot!"

"Well, that's something for another time. I have spoken. Go forth. Get back to working for me."

His two employees left the office unhappily.

"So that's that!" cried Jimmy. He looked out the door past the unhappy backs of his employees to direct at Joanie, "Bring in my newspapers."

Joanie brought in the Capistrano New Newser and the Tupilicka Courier-Entrailer.

"Thank you."

He zipped to the proper section as Joanie stood still.

"Do you read Family Circus, Joanie."

"Not often. I think you should read the front section first."

"I'll get to it. Ah, Tank, you funny guy."

"No, really. There's something of world-historical importance."

Piqued to know what 'world-historical importance' could possibly mean, Jimmy flipped roughly to the first page because he thought that was what his secretary had referred to.

He slapped his paper with the back of his hand. "I suppose you're referring to this." The headline read, Saudi Irania nukes Addis Aleppo.

"That is what I'm referring to, yes."

"You have friends there or something?"

"No, it's just that, in my opinion, you'll have to come up with a sensible response."

"All I got is sensible responses, Joanie dear. Um, um, um. Maybe the paper is lying about it."

"Look: it's in the Tupilicka Courier-Entrailer too," pulling from beneath his Capistrano New Newer his Tupilicka Courier-Entrailer whose headline read Addis Aleppo nuked by Saudi Irania.

"Aren't these papers owned by the same person?"

"No."

Jimmy thought. Twins maybe? "But how can they agree with one another if they're not in cahoots?"

Joanie thought too. "Because they're talking about the same reality?"

Jimmy snapped his fingers. "Reality! Of course! I keep forgetting about that. Well, I suppose I should call someone." He boldly sat down at his desk and grabbed his telephone. "Yes, I should call someone." His finger approached his rotary dial. "Please leave now, Joanie. This might be top secret."

"Suit yourself."

She left his office. Jimmy was alone. He dialed.

"Yes, hello. You have an advertisement in today's Capistrano New Newser. Are you really selling shoes at half price? Oh, I see. Buy one pair get one pair free. So, can I buy some cheap shoes and get some expensive shoes for free? No. Did you see the front page of the newspaper? Oh! You're worried. But: What are you gonna do? Seriously: What are you gonna do? A bomb shelter? You're going to build a bomb shelter? Isn't that a bit anti-social? How many can it hold? Will it have room for four more? Hello?"

Jimmy slammed down the phone. So much for reverse psychology! No solution. No solution but to nap. He slammed down his intercom button. "Joanie, get in here! And bring me my milk and cookies!"

Jimmy mooded himself into a pleasant space. Everything is okay ... no pressure ... take it easy ... let your left brain go to work ... there is a solution...."

Joanie came in with his silver salver upon which lay three Dad's oatmeal cookies and his glass filled with eight ounces of milk. Jimmy was mellow by then. "Thanks, Joanie. Just set it all down on this here settee of mine. Then, go file stuff."

Joanie set his silver salver down and left.

Jimmy ate his cookies and drank his milk, on his leather couch. And he closed his eyes, and sank into the dreamland wherein all problems are solved.

He found himself a King of some sort; some kind of emir or Haroun. He found himself calling out, "Bring in Ja'far the Barmecide Vizier!"

He saw Ja'far come in. Ja'far said, "To hear is to obey."

"Ja'far, hello. I have a problem. It seems some Muslims have been attacking other Muslims with nuclear bombs. I can't have that. Can you do anything?"

"I know a couple jinn who can help."

"Get them on the blower."

Soon, the room was filled with jinn. (Nice ones.)

Ja'far said, "How about we make all the Muslims peaceful, at one fell swoop?"

"Hey, that would be great. Do it."

So Ja'far sent forth the jinn with words both intelligible and unintelligible to the four corners of the world, instructing them to repeat the words both intelligible and unintelligible to make the Muslims of the world into a uniformly peaceful people.

Next morning (in the dream), Jimmy the King of some sort awoke and sent for the important newspapers and for Ja'far the Barmecide Vizier.

Jimmy said, taking a newspaper in hand, "I expect there was a peaceful night." But the first page begged to differ. So did the first page of the other newspaper. "Ja'far, this is terrible! Everything has gotten worse! Summon your jinn pronto!"

So Ja'far summoned the jinn and showed them the papers. "How could this have happened?"

One jinn said, "We did what you told us to do. We said," and here the jinn pronounced words both unintelligible and intelligble.

"You fools! You were supposed to say words both intelligible and unintelligible, not both unintelligible and intelligible!"

"What?" cried all the jinn. "Well ... oops."

"So what happened?"

"Well, we made some of the Muslims more violent instead of less violent."

"Some."

"Yes. Only some of them."

"Which ones?"

"Only the ones named Mohammad or Muhammad or Muhammed or Mohamed or Mohammed or Mohamad or Muhamed or Muhammed or Muhammet or Muhamet."

A crow woke Jimmy, to the realization that....

Ja'far can fix this so easily. So he made a mistake with his instructions. It's all so simple. Then maybe he could leave around three....

He looked around his office. Where had Ja'far gone? Maybe to take a pee.

Jimmy got up and crossed the room and sat down at his desk, waiting for Ja'far.

He waited and he waited.

Finally he got on his intercom to Joanie. "Joanie? Where's Ja'far? Have you seen Ja'far?"

"Ja'far the Barmecide Vizier."

"I think you've been dreaming again."

Jimmy snapped his fingers. "Of course! That explains everything!"

"It always does."

"I'll let you know when I want something."

"Very well."

Jimmy released the button of his. There's fact, and there's fiction. There's fiction, and there's fact. He'd never quite sorted out which one was which. He was a nice guy.

A harsh knock at his door and it opened before he could say boo and there was Dolph with a black eye and he was crying.

"Trudi punched me!"

"What reason did she have?"

Dolph was pushed into Jimmy's office and behind him was Trudi with her clothes in disarray. "I had a very good reason!"

"Hey, department heads, department heads. We can't have this. We have missiles and stuff, so we can't just go around throwing stuff. What if something hit this here big red button?" Jimmy pulled open a drawer of his to display to Dolph and Trudi his big red button. "Something could fly across the room and hit my button, and I'm pretty sure this here button of mine does some pretty serious stuff when it's hit. Like it's a trigger for something."

Dolph and Trudi stared at his button from some paid time. Dolph finally said, "I understand. We shouldn't come in here fighting like this."

"No, you shouldn't. Fight anywhere else you want but not in here, with my button. Trudi, why are your clothes torn?"

"He made a pass at me."

"Why, shouldn't you be flattered? Dolph's a pretty good-lookin' guy. I think you're just teasing him."

She thought about this. "You think so?"

"Hey! I know so. So you two, why don't you go find a nice spot and go for it."

Trudi said, "Maybe you're right."

Dolph looked at Trudi. "Is it all true?"

"I guess so. If the boss says it's so, it's probably so."

Dolph shrugged. "Okay then, let's go."

Trudi snapped her fingers "It's Much Ado About Nothing!"

"Of course!"

They left Jimmy's office arm-in-arm.

Jimmy smiled to himself. Problem solved! What a wiz he was. Next problem. He glanced at his newspapers, oh yeah. But--does this really concern me? Is it part of my job? Should I call a meeting or something? Why hasn't anyone called me? I'm the one with the red button.

He pressed the button on his intercom. "Joanie? Come in here. I think I should write ... a memo. Or you should write it while I tell you what to write. Isn't that how they do it in the movies?"

Joanie's voice said, "If there's a secretary in a movie, nine times out of ten she takes dictation."

"Dictation! That's the word I was missing."

"You're wife's on the phone."

"That's a non.... Non...."

"It's line one is what it is."

"Okay, put her through."

"On line one."

"Put her through."

"Pick up your phone."

"Why?"

"Because your wife's on the telephone."

"Ah! Gotcha."

Jimmy released the button on his intercom, sat down, and picked up his telephone. "Hello, dear," he said to his wife.

"Hi. Can you pick up some things on your way home?"

"Sure, what?"

"Pretty much everything."

"Such as?"

"Gin, vodka, scotch, wine, bourbon, beer, and tequila."

"Sure thing; I'm writing it down."

"I know you're not. Just get five bottles of anything."

"Right-o. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Have you seen the kids?"

"What kids?"

"Our kids."

"Um, golly, no. Am I still dreaming? Pinch me."

"I can't. I'm on the telephone."

"Right-o. Kids, kids, kids. Not for a couple days, I figure."

"I think they've all run away. In a group."

"Now why would they do that?"

"Search me. Five bottles, Jimmy. Five bottles. Make it eight."

"I can get 'em."

"How's work?"

"It appears a big-ass war has broken out."

"Huh."

"I should get back to it."

"I guess. Are your parents coming over this weekend?"

"I don't think we can avoid it."

"We'll make do."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

Jimmy hung up his phone and pondered. Maybe steaks out back? Ah, but that barbie: kind of small. Maybe I'll order another one from Amazon. It could even be here by the weekend. Man, that company's changing everything, isn't it? Who can compete? No storefront, just a bunch of warehouses. Don't some folks call web pages storefronts? Maybe that was some time ago. Maybe the concept of a 'storefront' will become just some old abstraction. Like 'dialing' a telephone. Oh yeah: should I call a meeting or something? The memo!

But before Jimmy could continue writing or dictating his memo, there was a knock at his office door. Grand Central Station!

"Who is it? Come in!"

His door opened and in walked his town's Chief of Police, Inspector John-Thomas Magillicuddy. Magillicuddy was exceptionally well-known in the town; why, just ten months' previously he had been front page (below the fold) news across Jimmy's nation for cracking a notorious cold case involving two spinsters who had been suspected of poisoning their mother; Magillicuddy had proven beyond a reasonable doubt to all involved that the murderer had actually been the gardener; the gardener, see, had been in love for some time with the elder of the sisters and thinking he could be with her (the elder sister) with the house and everything well he just gave it a go but he had disappeared the day after his murdering and never been seen again. The evidence Magillicuddy used? Two unused train tickets alongside a receipt for three, and a watch that had been broken at 11:53 PM. I'm telling you, it was front page news all over the nation.

Magillicuddy looked around. "I think I have the wrong room. Sorry."

He left.

How strange! thought Jimmy. I should go after him and tell him about my problem. Maybe he knows something.

Jimmy got off his chair and went to his door and opened it and went into his reception room. Joanie was clipping her toenails. She said, "Sorry. He just marched in like he owned the place."

"Which way did he go?"

"Which way could he go? There's only one other door."

"Yes, right."

Jimmy went through his other door and found himself in one of his hallways. He looked left and he looked right. Chatter was coming from his left. He went left. The noise--it sounded much like a party. He turned one of his many corridors and peeped into one of his many kitchenettes. Many of his employees, including Trudi and Dolph, were gathered around a bassinet. Dolph looked up and say Jimmy. "Jimmy, come here. I'm a papa."

Jimmy went to peep at the baby girl. "That was remarkably quick," he said.

"You were right all along; we'd wasted so much time what with accusations of murder and so on, we figured we should have a baby right away."

 Jimmy nodded. "A very sensible idea. Say, did you see a cop come by here?"

"Nope."

"Okay. Well ... congratulations."

"Thanks. Do you think Trudi and me could get the rest of the day off?"

"No."

Jimmy left his kitchenette regardless of the pop of a champagne cork and returned to Joanie who was now painting her toenails. He said to her, "Joanie, can you get me an update on this thermonuclear war business?"

"In a sec."

He went into his office and looked out his window again. Such a fine day, his day. Golf. He thought about golf for fifteen minutes.

His intercom buzzed. It was his secretary Joanie dragging him away from the best eighteen in the world. Jimmy sat down at his desk and responded. "Yes?"

"I've got the war report for you."

"Oh yes that. So what is it?"

"Saudi Arabia had attacked Russia, Afghanistan has attacked Peru, Iraq has attacked Switzerland, Iran has attacked Australia, Oman has attacked South Africa, Turkey has attacked Canada, Libya has attacked France, Tunisia has attacked China, Egypt has attacked Mexico, the U.A.E. has attacked Germany, Pakistan has attacked Brazil, and Eritrea has attacked England."

"Hmmm. We haven't been attacked."

"Nope."

"That's good news."

"Very good news."

"I guess we have nothing to worry about."

"Not so far."

"Phew!" Jimmy melodramatically mopped his brow. "So where'd you get all this info from?"

"I got it from the Internet."

"Ah. So it might all be rumour."

"Maybe none of it's true."

"Unreliable, isn't it? The Internet?"

"Very unreliable."

"Nuff said. Is there any other business for today?"

"None that I know of."

"If you hear anything else, let me know."

"Will do."

"How about that kid of Trudi's and Dolph's?"

"I wish them the best."

"Curious, though."

"You were right as usual."

"Okay, back to idle day-dreaming."

"Oh, here's something."

"Where?"

"On my computer."

"Oh, the Internet."

"Oh my."

"What is it?"

"We're under attack after all."

"By who?"

"The Russians, the Peruvians, the Swiss, the Australians, the South Africans, the Canadians, the French, the Chinese, the Mexicans, the Germans, the Brazilians, and the English."

"What did we ever do to Brazil?"

"I don't know."

"Aren't we allies with all those guys?"

"Maybe.... I don't know why."

Jimmy looked around his office and his things. What was there to do? Of course he couldn't be losing all he had. Of course the attacks had to stop. "My life," he said to himself, "must go on forever. How could any of this end?" He touched his desk. This can't be it.

Joanie over his intercom said, "There's a call coming in. Hang on." A moment later she was back. "Jimmy, it's the President. He wants to talk to you."

Jimmy cleared his throat and picked up his telephone. "Mr. President. Thank you for calling."

"Oh hey, Jimmy, Joe and me are here on the ninth and we have a bet. What's your handicap?"