Sean Spicer Makes a Run For It
A breeze rustled her brittle blonde hair. How odd. The door to her room was shut, and the windows were all closed. Still, Kellyanne felt a chill rush over her. She checked the air conditioning unit. It was turned off.
Most people in D.C.’s midsummer heat would have it on full blast, but Kellyanne liked the feeling of drowning in her own melting skin. It was a nice change of pace from her day job. Was a storm was about to blow through? Her phone said otherwise. The forecast called for blue skies and 80% humidity.
Intent on relaxing on her rare day off, Kellyanne climbed into her bed and turned on the TV. She flipped through channels. Fake news (CNN), television for the poors (PBS), beach houses for sinners (HGTV), and finally Fox. She wondered if she could call her provider and make every channel Fox. She could probably barter a bargain with them, too, if she did that. She put it on her mental to-do list, after “find body double to spend time with daughters.”
How was she still chilly? She was under 3 wool blankets on the hottest day of the year. The breeze picked up in the room and a stack of papers blew off her desk. The closet door swung open and the sink turned on. The house was coming alive. Kellyanne clutched the blankets up to her eyes when suddenly she saw a familiar face display across her television.
“Sean Spicer has resigned” flashed the chyron. “Earlier this morning the White House Press Secretary stepped down from his position,” a blonde woman said on the screen. Kellyanne was now standing directly in front of the television. That Boston prairie dog son of a bitch. She smacked the television with her hand. It was ice cold.
Of course. The spell had broken. He had escaped her pull, and the cool breeze had tried to alert her. When Spicer had signed on for the Press Secretary role, Kellyanne had bound him with a loyalty spell. It wasn’t as strong as it could have been but she made do buying the necessary accoutrements at the Takoma Park farmers market rather than her local apothecary back in New Jersey. One could see Spicer trying to break out of the bind during his press briefings by yelling or getting flustered. Luckily, the lamestream media assumed he was of short temper which worked in Kellyanne’s favor. But he had escaped. And how? Was Huckabee-Sanders in on this? Kellyanne didn’t trust that woman, with her Charlotte Russe fashion and brown hair.
What she did know was that he was on the loose, and it was up to her to track him down. She pulled up her hair and slipped on her boots. She was headed to the one place she’d know she’d find him: The Dippin’ Dots stand at Nationals Park.