Eric Cantor Gets a Ghostly Visit
Poor little Eric Cantor sat on the back steps of the Capitol, sobbing his little heart out. Suddenly, the ghost of Ronald Reagan appeared next to him. He put his ghostly arm around Cantor's shoulders.
"What's the matter, little fella," Reagan asked.
"President Obama just YELLED at me," Cantor sniffled.
"Oh, that's just terrible!" the spectral Reagan said. "Why did he do that?"
"Because he's just an old meanie!" Cantor said, wiping the snot from his nose. "All I did was say that we should make a short term deal on the debt ceiling to tide us over until he finally gives us everything we want."
"And what did he do?" Reagan asked in his grandfatherly way.
"HE HIT ME WITH A CHAIR!" Cantor bawled.
"Oh, come on now," Reagan said. "He didn't hit you with any chair. Obama's not the kind of man who resorts to using furniture to make a point."
"HE DID SO," Cantor wailed. "I gotta bump on my head. Right here!"
The ghostly Reagan felt Cantor's scalp and frowned.
"I don't feel a thing," Reagan said. "Are you SURE it was a chair?"
"I don't know," Cantor said, his eyes darting from side to side. "Maybe it was an ashtray."
"There are no ashtrays in the White House, at least not in the public areas," Reagan said. "Smoking is forbidden in public spaces."
"Well," Cantor said, rubbing his watery eyes, "maybe it was his fist then. I don't know. I was SO SCARED!" He started sobbing afresh.
"Now, now, this isn't getting us anywhere. You know Obama didn't hit you. That's not how he does things. Now, let's get to the bottom of this. What REALLY happened. Remember, I'm a ghost. I know the truth."
"Well, he YELLED at me," Cantor said. "He called me a big butt head and stormed out of the room. And if he didn't hit me with a chair, he sure knocked a few of them over when he stomped away."
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