JENNA and BARBARA BUSH, daughters of GEORGE W., arrive to consult the ORACLE
In the VEHICLE's back yard, night. It has to be the back yard, because the front yard contains FRED PHELPS and his followers (and relatives) from the Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka, KS, who are presently milling about kind of aimlessly. Phelps is helping himself to an ice-cold Coke from a styrofoam chest, and a couple Little Debbies. It is possible the Phelpsians believe themselves to be at a picnic. Phelps holds a sign which states, "GOD HATES THE ORACLE;" one of his grandchildren has "ORACLE IN HELL;" a daughter-in-law bears "AIDS KILLS ORACLES DEAD." Though there has yet been no actual conversation between the groups, the Phelpsians and Oraclites on the neighboring (CURTIS SHUCKS') lawn have been eyeing one another through increasingly-narrowed eyes and are clearly both itching for a scrap of some kind.
Past this little tableau creep JENNA and BARBARA BUSH, the (fraternal) twin daughters of President George W. Bush. They have had plenty of practice with sneaking around invisibly, and even with climbing over privacy fences, as they are doing at the moment. Being the Bush twins' Secret Service detail is the assignment all Secret Service agents fear, as the repercussions of a twin casualty would be disastrous on a level no one wants to think about directly, and yet the twins are just dynamos of energy, except when stoned or drunk, which, granted, is an awful lot of the time. But that just adds a level of unhappy unpredictability to the whole business. Laura Bush is the plum assignment, as she tends not to leave the White House, and sometimes doesn't even get out of bed, which makes protecting her very easy. The first AGENT, trying now to hook a leg over the fence so he can pull himself up and over, recalls the Sig Ep party where he and his co-agent finally had to resort to getting the elder Barbara on the cell phone to talk to her younger namesake, which it's not clear exactly what Grandma said to Barbara but it made Barbara's eyes roll up in her head, and all the color drained out of her face, and the whole fraternity house had to be evacuated while they removed her on a stretcher, and frankly she's never been quite right since. The first AGENT is being punished for having rolled his eyes accidentally, at something DICK CHENEY said a couple years ago.
But and so. The twins and agents are over the privacy fence now, and the twins have approached the VEHICLE, who is relaxing with a beer on a lawn chair, listening to the light jazz station out of Anaheim and looking up at the sky in hopes of viewing some stars.
Vehicle: [waves unenthusiastically]
Oracle: Greetings, spawn of Dubya.
Jenna (whispering to BARBARA): Wow. She's so gross.
Barbara: [fiddles with a "WWJD" bracelet on her left wrist]
Jenna (still whispering): She's like a homeless person.
Barbara (whispering back): But she's got a home, right? She lives here.
Jenna (whispering): I guess so. How come she doesn't shave or dress nice or anything?
Barbara (whispering): She's kinda scaring me. Can we go?
Jenna (whispering): No, doofus, we gotta ask her something.
Barbara (whispering): Can we ask for a beer? I wanna beer.
Jenna (whispering): No. We'll get a beer later. I got Grandma's 'emergency' card. We'll go somewhere later.
Barbara (whispering): Well you're the English major, you ask the question.
Jenna: [clears throat] Hey. Um so like, am I going to be President someday like Dad?
Barbara (whispering): Ask her about the thing.
Jenna: Oh yeah. So, we heard that there's this way that a person can like, have sex with herself, instead of having to get really really drunk and have sex with the first guy who comes along, in a pathetic attempt to earn the approval of men as a stand-in for the approval of her kind of distant and sometimes alcoholic father, who was gone or drunk a lot when she was a kid and then moved 1500 miles away just as she was finishing high school and didn't even come to her college graduation when she was pretty desperately in need of a little guidance and support? Or something?
Oracle: You must phrase your question in the form of a question, not just inflect it like one.
Barbara: Oooh. Burn. She got you good.
Jenna: [to Barbara] Oh shut up. [to Oracle] Come on, you. We're busy. Could you just recommend a book or something?
Barbara: Something with Cliff Notes.
Oracle: You should just go talk to Joycelyn Elders. You don't have to read.
Barbara: Oh thank Jesus. Sometimes I don't read so well.
Oracle: Well, honey, you're a Bush. Nobody expects you to be smart.
Jenna: So this Elders woman can show us?
Barbara [to Jenna]: Well shit, Jen, Fabian said he'd show us.
Jenna: Shut up, Bar. I don't think it works the same when you're a guy.
Oracle: Yes. Just go talk to her. It'll be fine.
Jenna: Well, um, thanks and stuff.
Barbara: Yeah, thanks. [pause] Hey, uh, can we get one for the road?
Jenna: [grabs Barbara and starts dragging her back to the fence] Shut up. I told you we'd get something later.
Barbara (weakly): But I'm thirsty.
(Story continues at EVIE SINGLASS.)