July 1, 2011
"Good Saturday afternoon, my fellow Americans…"
The former US President's assistant coughed discreetly as she sat behind the podium erected in the lawn of the Richard Nixon Library & Museum. She whispered, "Today is Friday, Mr. President."
Several cackles and giggles were heard throughout the four hundred people, who made up the distinguished assembled guests. George W chuckled and started his speech once again from the very beginning. "Good Friday afternoon, my fellow Americans and distinguished foreign dignitaries. We are here to inaugurate the addition of the Watergate archives to the Richard Nixon Library."
As Mister Bush continued boring half of the crowd with his unrehearsed speech in his annoying nasal Texan twang, Secret Service Agent Castiel Novak rolled his ocean blue eyes. He was sweating like a pig being led to the slaughterhouse for execution underneath his work uniform which consisted of a typical Men in Black suit. Dark Ray Ban aviator glasses covered his beautiful baby blues and they were a gift from Heaven, because they blocked anyone from witnessing every time he rolled his eyes at good old George W's plethora of faux pas.
Besides roasting like a pig at a Hawaiian luau's rotisserie due to the aforementioned dark suit, Castiel had to tame his naturally unruly dark hair with half a pound of gel. Every time he caught sight of himself, the agent would cringe, since his slicked back hair made him resemble a seal. Special Agent Novak had graduated at the top of the class at Langley and had been recruited by the CIA. Once he had completed his training and was about to make his debut for the intelligence agency, the offer for him to work as a secret service agent was presented to the ambitious recruit.
His relatives had been over the moon upon hearing the exciting news, as well as the majority of the residents of Castiel's small hometown of Sycamore, Illinois. In no time, Castiel became the town hero. His Uncle the town's mayor had even suggested he be the grand marshall of the annual Fourth of July Parade. Castiel profusely refused since he believed government work should be taken seriously.
Castiel's first assignment had him being part of former Florida Governor Charlie Crist's security team. Thankfully, no attempts were ever made against the governor's life while Novak had been on duty. Castiel became bored after two years on the job. During his leisure time, he partook of his favorite pastime, art.
Miraculously, one morning as he trained at the Governor's mansion's high tech gym, someone from the President's Secret Service team approached him in the middle of an extraneous kickboxing workout. Since Governor Crist's second term was coming to an end, Castiel did not waste any time in accepting the lucrative offer. A couple of months later, Castiel Novak thanked the soon to be former governor and was on his way to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.
Almost a year later, he stands under a scorching sun listening to Alfred E Newman, who was MAD magazine's famous mascot and the name some of the secret service agents had dubbed the former President with. The Southern California summer heat was really getting to him now. He was tempted to loosen his tie but that was a big no –no. Cas rolled his eyes once more as Bush said another guffaw. The former President was a pro at covering up his mistakes, so he said a corny joke, which to Castiel's horror made half of the crowd laugh.
Castiel scanned the perimeter and made sure his trusting SIG Sauer P229 pistol was secured in the gun holster beneath his suit's jacket. Earlier that morning he had cleaned and stocked his baby. Once the assembled guests ceased their laughing and George W continued rambling about Watergate; Castiel observed a tall and lanky Middle Eastern man reach into his jacket's pocket with a trembling hand.
The man's black hawkish eyes were zeroed in on the former President. Castiel ran towards Bush and threw him behind the platform. His body covering the stunned Texan, while yelling, "Middle Eastern man in third row wearing beige jacket is packing heat!"
Two burly African American secret service agents tackled the man and retrieved the weapon from his jacket. Agent Hendrickson screamed, "False alarm!"
Upon hearing the words, Castiel's skin blanched and his armpits sweated profusely. The latter tended to happen when he was extremely nervous. He swiftly assisted President Bush in getting to his feet. As soon as he knew, the man was well; Castiel strolled over to his two co-workers and the Middle Eastern man. Cas apologized profusely to the supposed assassin.
"You have really messed shit up this time, Novak," the one who resembled Ving Rhames said in a taunting manner. He swung a flask in front of Castiel like a pendulum in motion.
Hendrickson burst out laughing and asked, "You want a drink? You sure will need one after Singer rips you a new one."
"Bite me, Hendrickson," Castiel said through grinding teeth. Someone bellowed right after that the President's mother had passed out due to the commotion. "Can this day get any worse?" Cas thought to himself.
Barbara Bush was rushed to the local hospital via ambulance. As George W breezed by Castiel, he glared at him. "You better pray nothing happens to my mama."
"I am so sorry, Mr. President," Castiel murmured. He felt like shit at the moment. How could he live with himself if he was responsible for the death of an elderly woman?
The following morning he sat in his boss' office hearing the man scream lividly at him. The stupid assignment should not have been Cas' in the first place. President Obama was vacationing in Hawaii with his family and only two secret service agents had been assigned to keep the First Family safe. Castiel's boss, Robert Singer had assigned him to Bush detail for the weekend. The reason being one of the original agents had an emergency appendectomy the evening prior to the ceremony.
Senior Agent Singer banged his beefy hand on his cherry wood desk rattling his coffee cup in the process. "I have never witnessed such incompetence in my entire twenty five year career in the service! The ridiculous stunt you pulled yesterday can mess up the progress made between the US and certain Middle Eastern countries since 911."
"I have apologized over a dozen times already. Who the hell drinks alcohol at an inauguration anyways? Anyone could have mistaken his actions. I did my job and protected George W in a situation which could have turned deadly."
"You are being demoted to a desk job immediately, idjit!"
"That is not fair, sir! I have personally seen an agent or two fuck up and they were never reprimanded for their mistakes. I am being demoted because I am the rookie in the group, who does not play to the old boys club's politics!"
"Novak, thank your guardian angel your ass was not fired. You are dismissed. My administrative assistant will inform where you will report to tomorrow morning."
"With all due respect sir, I quit. I did not join the Secret Service to type memos and prepare the morning coffee." Castiel slammed the door on his way out. A picture of J Edgar Hoover fell on the carpet.
Singer shook his head. He knew the service was losing a good man, but he had to follow orders from above. The poor guy's mistake made the papers and the Secret Service could not afford to become a mockery. He wished Castiel Novak luck in his future endeavors.
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