George Sorosdemon & His Alvin Braggbitch
George Sorosdemon & His Alvin Braggbitch
A One-Act Political Farce in which a Political Harlot Sells His Soul and Promises to Help a Demon Destroy His City
“Our plan to destroy New York City is going well so far, George, but we need to move faster,” said the shriveled old man on the computer screen.
George Sorosdemon nodded slowly and leaned back in his plush leather chair. Sorosdemon was a wrinkled old ogre with dark bags of scaly skin underneath his cold, beady eyes. He flicked his tongue across his lips, like a lizard tasting the air, and smiled, as he imagined the streets of Manhattan looking like the slums of Port-au-Prince.
“We have to speed things up, George,” continued the voice on the computer speakers. “The lockdowns and riots were good, but they weren’t enough. Property values and quality of life are still too high for what we want to do, and that’s true throughout the Northeast corridor. We really need to do to New York and Boston what we’ve done to San Francisco and L.A.”
“I agree,” hissed Sorosdemon. “Look, I am completely confident that I can control whoever wins the mayor’s race, as long as it’s not Sliwa; but he won’t win anyway, so we don’t have to worry about him. My biggest concern is the District Attorney’s race. If I can get one of my puppets in there, like I did with those other cities, we can ruin what’s left of New York in two years, tops, and create a real opportunity for ourselves. I got a guy coming in to see me today who should be perfect for our plans.”
“Glad to hear that,” replied the wrinkled face on the screen. “Keep me posted. Moloch be with you.”
“And also with you,” said Sorosdemon. He leaned over and turned off the computer. For the next several minutes, he stared silently at the wall, as he rocked slowly back and forth in his chair.
Suddenly, a mouselike woman cracked open the door and peeked inside. “Mr. Sorosdemon?” she asked meekly.
The ugly ogre glared at her with his reptilian eyes, but said nothing.
The woman flashed a nervous smile and continued, “Mr. Sorosdemon, your 10:30 appointment, Alvin Braggbitch, is here to see you.”
Sorosdemon leaned back in his chair. “How long has he been waiting?”
“He just arrived, not even a minute ago,” she replied.
Sorosdemon nodded slowly. “Tell him I will be with him momentarily. Make him wait for exactly nine minutes. Then send him in.”
“Yes sir.”
Sorosdemon then closed his eyes and sat perfectly still, as if in a trance.
At the appointed time, the door creaked open, revealing a fat, Mr.-Potato-Head-looking man with a goatee and dark horn-rimmed glasses. The man clasped his hands tightly behind his back and bowed slightly, before saying, “Good morning, Mr. Sorosdemon, I’m Alvin Braggbitch.”
George Sorosdemon said nothing. He slowly opened his eyes and just stared at the newcomer.
The fat, potato-faced man kept his hands behind his back and shifted about nervously. Every few seconds, he looked at Sorosdemon and smiled awkwardly. Sorosdemon ignored him.
At last, Sorosdemon, pointed to a chair and beckoned for Braggbitch to sit. “I am a busy man,” said Sorosdemon. “I do not like being inconvenienced or kept waiting. Our appointment was for 10:30 A.M. It is now 10:38 A.M. Why are you late? You have started off on the wrong foot with me already, Braggbitch.”
Alvin Braggbitch’s eyes widened. “Um, uh, um,” he stuttered. “Uh, I apologize. There must be some misunderstanding. I actually checked in with your secretary at 10:25, but she did not send me in here until just now.”
Sorosdemon shook his head and said, “Why are you wasting my time with this nonsense? Are you ready to cut the bullshit or not, Braggbitch? I don’t have any more time to waste.”
Braggbitch hung his head like a lost puppy. He shuffled towards the chair and sat down as gingerly as he could, given his bulk. He hunched over in his chair and held his hands to his chest. “I sure am sorry, sir.”
Sorosdemon smirked. “I agree. You are sorry. Very sorry. Such a sad and sorry excuse for a human being. You contacted my office — well, you begged Chuck Groomer to contact my office on your behalf — because you want me to open some doors for your political advancement.”
Alvin Braggbitch nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir. I would like a career in Democratic politics, and I know you’re the man to see about that. I know how to follow orders and be of service to my bosses. You won’t ever have any problems out of me. You want me to do anything, anything at all, and I will get it done. I promise.”
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