"Rick," Newt said, gruffly, flushed like a tomato. "It's worse than you know."
"I'm not saying you cheated on me," the smaller man said. "I'm not. Callista and I, we made a promise: we wouldn't care what you did. So I'm not caring about Mitt. I'm not. He can fuck with you all he wants, so long as he doesn't fuck with my PAC."
"No, listen," the ex-speaker insisted. "It's... it's worse than that. You see, I've been thinking about an abortion..."
"What?! But I thought you and Callista - "
"No, not for her. It's... you know I've been gaining a little weight - haven't been able to work it off on the nine holes?"
Silence lasted like a bad day, as two wretched hermeneuts stared and stared, and failed to understand whether that particular shade of purple meant something... "Um... are you saying...?"
"Call NARAL," Rick said, and picked up his cell phone, hit "speed dial," and handed it to his partner. "Right now."
This is totally your fault, Aliana.Edited at 2012-02-11 12:26 am (UTC)