George W. Bush Celebrates 80th Birthday – Part One

It is July 6th, 2026. George W. Bush is lying on an aluminum chaise lounge cushioned with cheap frayed vinyl strips in the heat of the Texas sun, his eyes in the shade of the peak of a San Juan Stars baseball cap, a baseball team which was on that day in first place in the Eastern Division of the American League after only three years after being created as an expansion club. To his immediate left sits a small aluminum folding table on which lies a pitcher of ice tea and a bowl of bite-size chocolate chip cookies. On a similar rickety chaise lounge lies Laura Bush, who wears a red large-brimmed sun hat with tortoise-shell sunglasses. Laura is reading The New Yorker magazine. George is watching two eight-year old girls tossing a softball back and forth, catching the ball with brown-leather mitts. George knew them as neighbors, each living in their respective brushed steel trailers that were about fifty yards from his vantage. Sarah and Sylvia, the two baseball girls, as he thought of them. Sarah blond, Sylvia a redhead, both wearing running shorts, white socks and sneakers, Sarah in a Mets jersey, Sylvia in an Arizona Diamondbacks jersey and baseball hat. They were running around, throwing the ball to each other, fielding grounders, one of which went through Sylvia’s legs and ended up at the foot of George’s chaise lounge. Sylvia ran for the ball, where she was stopped by a man in black pants, a tight black tank top, wearing a shoulder harness with gun.

“It’s OK,” said George as he waved his hand at the one secret service agent that was assigned to the former President. The secret service man backed off, and Sylvia continued to run with mitt on left hand.

“Hi,” said Sylvia.

“It’s Sylvia, right?” said George.

“Hey, look at those cookies. There’s so many,” said Sylvia.

Laura Bush looks up from her New Yorker magazine. “Yes, dear. It’s George’s birthday today,” said Laura.

“Wow. Happy birthday,” said Sylvia. George caught a glimpse of Sarah in the background with her hands on hips waiting for her friend.

“There are eighty chocolate chip cookies in that bowl. One cookie for each of George’s life,” said Laura.

“You’re going to eat all those cookies?” asked Sylvia.

“No, No. Laura won’t let me. I am allowed just, what is it, how many again?” asked George as he turned to Laura.

“None, George. You are allowed none,” said Laura.

“Yes, that’s right, I am allowed no cookies,” smiled George as he looked at Sylvia.

“But, dear, you are allowed to have one. Take one cookie for yourself and one for your friend,” said Laura.

“Thanks,” said Sylvia as she grabbed two cookies.

“Don’t forget your ball, Sylvia,” said George.

Sylvia picks up the ball and runs back to where Sarah was standing where they, from George’s vantage, seem to chat and eat and then resume play.

“How could you forget, George, about the cookies. You know better than that,” said Laura.

“Yes. I know. Discipline. It’s why we have survived on our beautiful Crawford ranch for so long, They did not take this away from us. No sir,” said George.

“It’s hardly a ranch, anymore, George, with all the trailers. Forty seven of them,” said Laura.

“Forty eight, if you count ours,” said George proudly, which was immediately behind where George and Laura were lying. Not the largest trailer in the Crawford Ranch Trailer Park. But one of the few that had 220 volts of electricity providing the most robust of air conditioning units that sat on cinder blocks to the side of the trailer.

“Survivors. We are survivors. Not everyone was able to survive like us, but it required discipline and ingenuity,” said George.

“Thank God the government at least pays for him,” Laura pointed to the secret service man.

“That’s the problem, Laura. People expect the federal government to pay for everything. People probably think I was unhappy when they cancelled the pensions of all ex-presidents and their wives. Nope. Not me. Government can’t afford it, so it should not pay for it,” said George. “And I was clever enough to turn our ranch into a trailer park, subdividing it into tiny little rentable trailer spots, surrounding ourselves with people. I love people,” said George.

“Yeah, you love people,” said Laura without emotion. “Are you enjoying your birthday, George?” asked Laura.

To Be Continued Tomorrow.

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