A Short Conversation Between the Weiners

Posted on July 24, 2013



Darling, I have a text here from a “Carlos Danger.” Do we know anyone named Carlos Danger?

Ah, Sweets, that is actually me. I meant to send that text to my new assistant, the twenty-year-old who is completing her doctorate in “The Value of Long Hours of Public Service.”

But Love, why are you sending her texts under the name Carlos Danger?

Ah my petunia, the world is a dangerous place, especially for forward-thinking visionaries like myself. I prefer to keep my thoughts private.

But Honey, this is a photo of your pecker. Why is Carlos Danger, I mean you, sending a photo of your pecker to your assistant?

Ah, my songbird, what may appear to be simply my pecker to the uninformed, is, in reality, a symbol for the position paper I am working on, regarding population density and its impact on long-term housing needs. It’s part of my economic stabilization package for New York.

Why, my cherub, is your love rocket so, uh, erect?

Ah, Beloved, this is the very reason I married you. You are astute enough to point out the erection. Another symbol here, of my policy being strong, upright, and bringing all issues to a head.”

I see, Inamorato. And the words, “Dreaming of sticking my Tool into your Beef Curtains.” More symbolism? Dealing with demographics and the creation of food services throughout the city?

Precious, you are surely no fool.

I’m getting the hang of this, Cara Mia. So when you write “copulation issues this evening” you must mean population issues, right?

Bingo, my furry taco. I have surely chosen the best partner ever to help me channel my talents in the right direction.

I am so glad I forgave you a couple years ago, my treasure, when you had that, uh, unfortunate series of events that resulted in your leaving Congress. My mother still keeps insisting “I told you so,” but I tell her that our love is larger and deeper than small minds can fathom. Our love may appear to be a slippery slope at times, but we will climb it to its summit together. We may grunt and grope, but we won’t give up until we are showered with the fruits of our devotion. Where are you going, my passion puppy?

“Gotta send a text to my assistant. I think I’ll have to leave soon.