Freedom Fries

Each week, I go to a business luncheon. It’s an organization of people from various professions and we get to know each other, educate each other and refer business to one another. Yesterday, I found myself at the same table with Chris, the evangelical real estate guy; Laura, the blonde North Dakota-bred massage therapist; Gary, the stout pest control guy from Jersey; and Dan, the grey-haired chapter president.

I’ve had a good-natured war of words about politics with Chris the evangelist, in particular about some of the dirty tricks and nasty deeds pulled by the Bush people. Yesterday, we were discussing that it appears that Karl Rove (Bush’s henchman and general dirty-trickster) was behind the firing of seven US Attorneys, most of who were investigating republican elected officials for corruption.

He was rather steadfastly maintaining the innocence of his beloved republicans but also insisting that good Christian moral goals can be achieved through sometimes unsavory methods. In other words, the ends justify the means.

“Look, Chris. That waitress is trying to get your attention!” I pointed over Chris’s shoulder. As he turned around, I reached over with both hands and took almost all of the french fries from his plate and put them on top of my chicken caesar salad. Chris turned back around and noticed that he had only a few stubby fries left. He spotted the mountain piled in front of me.

“You stole my fries!”

“These? No, these are completely unrelated fries,” I said.

He was flabbergasted. “Did you see him take my fries?” he asked Gary.

“I didn’t see nothin’,” Gary said, looking Chris straight in the eye.

“Laura? Did he take my fries?”

“You know, I just don’t remember. I have a lot going on…the details get lost sometimes,” she laughed.

“Dan! You must have seen it!”

“Well, as president, I like to stay above these petty fights, so I can’t help you.”

“Thank you all for your honest testimony,” I said, and placed a pile of fries on the plates of Laura, Gary and Dan. They began to eat them, dunking them in the ketchup on Chris’ plate.

“I can’t believe you did that! You’re crazy, stealing my food like that!”

“Sounds like you are coming unhinged, Chris,” I said. “You’re getting hysterical. I think the wheels are falling off.”

“You don’t think I’m just going to let this lie, do you?” Chris looked at me, clearly becoming angry.

“Hey, I’m innocent, so it doesn’t really matter what you do. My conscience is clear.” Then I turned to the table next to me and whispered loudly, “Hey, I think Chris is going kind of nuts right now. Poor guy. It understandable really, he and his wife are having a little sexual problem. You might not want to send him any clients right now. You know, he’s unstable.” I made a little circle around my ear with a half-eaten fry.

“You bastard! I told you that in confidence!” Chris exploded. “Dan! You’re the president! Do something about him! He can’t just steal my food and bad mouth me to the other members!”

Dan looked at me for a moment and said, “Paul, I hereby grant you full and complete pardon for any offenses you may or may not have committed during the luncheon of March 15th, 2007.”

Then he looked at Chris. “Is that what you had in mind?”

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