Category: Slimey

Slimey’s Merchandising

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I luxuriated in the feel of the February sunshine as I sat on a bench next to the Tidal Basin. It always felt good to enjoy the pre-spring warmth, tempered by the air cooled by the water nearby. Soon the trees would be wreathed in blossom, and this walk would be overwhelmed with tourists intent on capturing the perfect Instagram picture of the cherry trees. But for now, I had the entire basin nearly to myself.

Nearly to myself. That is what I thought I had. But soon I became aware of another presence coming towards me from behind. I turned around on the bench, and saw my friend Slimey approach me. Now Slimey was the original DC swamp monster, in fact, I first saw him coming out of the Tidal Basin. He is an 8’ tall reptile, sporting rapier-like claws and teeth that could tear you from end to end. But as Slimey became more used to human life, he began to lose some of his ferocity. Of course, the tailored suit he wore helped a great deal. Why, except for his tail which his trousers failed to cover, he looked just like any lobbyist from K Street.

Slimey came up, and sat at the opposite end of the bench. He said, in his sibilant-accented voice, “Friend. I hoped to find you here. Would you have a minute or two to help me with my research?”

Now, I did have plenty of time. But it is always the best of discretion to do whatever Slimey requested. We had a good relationship, but the possibility of his tearing my head off was constantly in my mind, whenever Slimey and I shared a space. So I said, “Sure. How can I help?”

Slimey smiled, then began. “I’ve been appointed merchandising manager for the Donald J. Trump On-line Emporium. Because of the overwhelming success of the shoes, we are trying to come up with new products that will move the needle just a bit, and manage to knock off just a few mill of the penalties that the legal system has imposed. You.” And here he paused for a moment, to turn and look at me. Slimey’s head could not move independently of his body, so it took longer for him to look directly at me. He continued. “You are part of my focus group. Not everyone I meet is willing to overlook my appearance, but you always have. Thank-you for that, friend.”

Well, flattery will get you anywhere, and even if it is coming from an 8’ tall reptile, I felt warmth run through me that wasn’t induced from the sun. I said, “Go on. I’m dying to hear about the products you have come up with.”

Slimey took that in, and bobbed his head slightly. He began. “First, there’s the Donald J. Trump hot air balloon. Just an ordinary latex balloon, but covered in a pithy saying, and complete with an inflator that exposes the saying, while filling the balloon with hot air. Floats for just a while, then comes back down to earth.” He stopped, awaiting my reaction.

I had to say, this was an underwhelming offering. “I’d pass on that one.”

Slimey didn’t seem to take the rejection personally, just went on to the next product. “We’ve come up with a dual-use product. It is a tube of Donald J. Trump laxative and hemorrhoid cream. Put a little in your drink, and then a bit on your tuckus. A little dab will do you.”

I thought for a moment. “That has some promise. I can see that being useful for your key demographic groups.”

Slimey shook his head up and down in agreement. “Yes, I thought we had a winner with that one. Now just wait till you hear about this next offering. It’s Bigley Condoms. Each package guaranteed to fit even the most demanding customer.”

That one took me aback a bit. “Wouldn’t that product offend some of your key constituents? I know some of them hold to the belief that every sperm is sacred. A product aimed at recreational sex? Don’t think it will fly.”

Slimey looked a little sad. “I had high hopes for that product. Ah, well, this next one is sure to be a winner. It is toilet paper, but not ordinary toilet paper. It is paper with each square embossed with a T, outlined in 24k gold. This is aimed at our more discerning followers.”

Slimey had done it again. I could see this being a runaway success, especially if paired with the laxative. And this was the first product I could see with major cross-over appeal. Even those who oppose the Donald would jump at the chance to apply this to their bodies. “Slimey, you have a real winner here. I can see this one becoming a product for all Americans. This one could bring about true unity in our country.”

Slimey got up. He had received enough feedback to proceed. After he said his farewell, and disappeared beyond the Jefferson Memorial, I thought I would look forward to the opportunity to purchase some of this new product and give it the honor it deserved as it served its purpose.

State Secrets

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I got the call in the middle of the night. I could barely make out the words for all of the hissing and sibilance that came across the line. Those hints made me aware it was my friend Slimey, the original swamp monster from DC, who was calling me and disturbing my sleep.

Slimey was my friend, and I’m glad he took a shine to me. Imagine an 8’ tall reptile, with razor-sharp claws and teeth more reminiscent of an alligator than anything else you could come across in DC. Whenever I heard talk about “draining the swamp”, I could see humanity encountering the rest of Slimey’s family. It was only Slimey who had attempted to mingle with the rest of humanity, and really, once he put on a tailored suit which covered most of his tail, I had difficulty in picking him out from the rest of the K St. lobbyists. The one thing that always stood out though, was his size. He towered over the rest of us, and I guess that is why he was invisible to most of the inhabitants of DC. They were used to ignoring the biggest thing in the room, so of course, Slimey had the perfect disguise.

I tried to listen carefully. Slimey was directing me to come to the Tidal Basin as soon as possible. He wasn’t fooling around with any attempt to hide his abode. There had to be a good reason for this urgency.

It took me almost no time to pull on my pants and a t-shirt. Since it was still late summer, I didn’t need much else to stay warm. I ended up driving on the nearly deserted streets down towards the Jefferson Monument, where I would encounter Slimey. That was the place of our first meeting, shortly after the 2017 inauguration. Ever since then, I had encountered Slimey on streets, and at my front door. I instinctively felt that this retreat to Slomey’s home turf did not bode well for any of us.

I found myself near one of the streetlamps, sitting on a bench. Surely he could see me, and would approach. I still was taken aback when he emerged from the water itself, shaking to rid his skin of the extra water he brought up with him. No clothes this time, he was holding only a single document inside of a clear waterproof envelope. He took the few steps over to the bench and took his seat beside me.

“Well met, friend. I’ll bet you are wondering why I called you here.” Slimey was always one for delaying getting to the point. I had grown accustomed to his procrastination, so I remained silent, waiting for Slimey to proceed.

“I’ll not deceive you, this is the biggest thing I’ve ever had. I realized I could not deal with this myself, so that’s why I called you.” Slimey held up the envelope with the single piece of paper. “After this, I’ll not be able to show my face at all in this town. I’m going back home till all of this blows over.”

I finally found my curiosity was aroused. “Just what sort of thing do you have there?” I pointed towards the envelope, which was still grasped tightly in Slimey’s claws.

“This? This is the secret that will release all of the enemies. I can’t tell you how I got this.” Slimey looked agitated, and that is one state I hoped never to see – an agitated 8’tall reptile. I found myself sliding over to the edge of the bench, as far away from his claws as I could get while still staying somewhat close. I knew it would do no good if he ever really decided to use his immensely powerful, instantly deadly claws to tear open my unprotected gut, but the survival instinct kicked in, if only partially.

Slimey stood up. “All of the documents taken, all of the secrets. This one document explains everything. And I found I must turn it over to you.” He handed over the envelope, and gave only one instruction. “Wait until I’ve disappeared before you look at it.” With that, he quickly covered the distance to the water, and not caring who saw, he disappeared under the murky water into the DC swamps.

I waited for what seemed like minutes as he never breached the surface again. Finally, I opened up the waterproof envelope, and pulled out the single piece of paper. On it, there was only the following writing.

6’ 1” and 320 pounds.

Slimey Works For George Santos

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I was ambling down the sidewalk when I spied a familiar form speeding along coming towards me. It was none other than my old friend Slimey, the original DC swamp monster. His 8’ reptilian form was hard to miss, even if he tried to disguise it with clothing.

“Slimey” I shouted, as I attempted to intercept him before he could race past me. It was obvious he was in a hurry, but he did stop as soon as he heard my voice.

“Friend,” he called out. “You are just the person I was looking for. You may be able to help me out,” Slimey hissed in that distinctive accent of his. Amazing what a reptilian accent sounds like. Some of the consonants just don’t come across completely.

“What can I do for you?” I responded. Most of the time, I scarcely knew what to do with Slimey’s issues. I could guess this was going to be another time where I would be at a loss.

“You may be able to help me out with a situation concerning my employer. See, I’ve taken a position in a Congressman’s office.”

I shuddered to think of any representative who would employ an 8-foot tall reptile who crawled out of the Tidal Basin. Then it came to me.

“You are working for George Santos!” I exclaimed.

“A very good guess.” Slimey confirmed my suspicions by his nodding of his enormous head packed full of razor-sharp teeth. “Now, I need your help with a problem he has.”

I thought for a moment about the massive fraud that is George Santos. How he was elected to office as the epitome of a volleyball-playing, large bank lackey, college graduate, with parents who survived the holocaust but somehow didn’t survive the consequences of 9/11, only to be discovered after election as a member of the checked box “None of the above” club. It seemed George Santos didn’t need any of my ideas about how to deal with his issues. Still, I owed it to Slimey to at least provide an effort at a response. “What exactly is George’s problem.”

Slimey took a second before answering, stretching his neck as his head surveyed the heavens, then he said “George really doesn’t need his glasses. He wears them strictly for effect. He’d like to alert the world about this, in order to give up having to remember them, but no one is ready to believe the truth coming from his mouth.”

It took me almost no time to form a response. “You say he’s having a problem since no one would believe anything he says is the truth?”

Slimey shook his head in affirmation. “Yes, that’s his problem in a nutshell.”

I walked along the Washington street in silence, trying to come up with a response that would be practical but also represent my deep concern about this fraudster polluting the halls of Congress. “Can I ask just one question? Given his proclivity to, er, enhance his resume on serious matters, why is he concerned about something he wears?”

Slimey looked down at me, and even though his face was mainly frozen due to his massive jaw and rapier-like teeth, it seemed as if he was sneering at me. He said, “I can’t believe you are diminishing his problem so much. This one item is occupying his mind full-time, and it’s up to me to come up with a solution.”

I nodded my understanding, and stood still in silence. Around us, the hordes of K Street denizens barely took notice of our presence, save to slightly swerve around us, Everyone was engaged with their phone. Indeed, I wondered whether Slimey could have existed in the pre-cellphone days. Someone would have noticed his enormous form.

I finally said, “Maybe you could try this. Since everyone is convinced what he says is a lie, try just one more lie. Say that he has contracted an eye disease requiring him to expose his eyeballs to full air flow. That way he can take off his glasses, and everyone will think, yeah, just another one of his frauds, er, enhancements. He won’t have to worry about carrying those glasses along, and this will slide down to the bottom of the list of items for the press to be concerned with.”

Slimey stood staring at me. Then he went, “Why didn’t I think of that? That is a brilliant solution. I can’t wait to tell him about it.” And he turned away from me and went on down the street, leaving me alone.

All I had to do now was try to remember what I was doing before Slimey showed up, Fortunately, my stomach chose this time to emit a rumble, reminding me I was in search of the perfect chili dog before I was interrupted.

For a previous look at Slimey in his DC abode, see this: https://wordpress.com/view/evenabrokenclock.blog#:~:text=evenabrokenclock.blog/2022/07/19/yosemite%2Dsam%2Dmeet%2Dslimey