Barbara always had a penchant for the rolling mice. They had always amused her since she was a kid back in the old country. She always liked how they rolled down the narrow slits of her armpits. It had made her laugh to the point of insane mundaness. She did not expect them to go away, though. I remember when I first met her. Our eyes never even met. Her head strained softly; eyes on the floor.
       "So, how did you get here?" I asked her.
       "I don't remember," she said, "it's all a big blur to me. I remember standing on the platform at the Regal showers. Before I knew it I was being driven off by my own peers. Must have been something I did. But I know I'm not wrong. If there is anything I'm ever sure of, it's that I know that I'm not wrong."
       "So, are you saying that you're not wrong or you know you're not wrong?"
       "Great, I answer one way and I'm an absolute god; I answer the other way and I might be mentally unstable. It's a no-win situation for me. Can't you see that sir?"
       "My name is Patrick," I said.
       "Oh," she said. Her eyes finally met mine and all of a sudden I can feel all that pain rushing through her nervous system, to her pupils, across the room, right into my heart. I felt her pain. I really did.
       "I refuse," I said, "I refuse to make any man, woman, or child to make a fool out of me. I never apologize. I live my life the way I live my life. Gore, he was a bad vice-president. Stephanopolous, well... I don't know. But you, Barbara... I never wanted this for you."
       "Shut up!" Barbara screamed. She began shaking. Shaking violentally. Her wig fell off and underneath was some tissue and two hair strands. It made me sick to my stomach. But it also made me hot in the pants.
       "This is getting boring," Barbara said, "are you going to let me see Slick Willy, or not?"
       "Sure thang, missy," I said. I tore off my mask to show my true colours. I was young, resilient. I was William Jefferson Clinton. I was whole again.
       Slick Willy looked at me and said "I'm ready to go in".
       I nodded. Barbara complied.
       Would she live up to her last name?

      Sadly the answer was no.