“I’ll just say what we are all thinking,” Mitch mumbled. “Roe v. Wade being overturned is going to be a fucking disaster.”

Matt’s cubical head grimaced. “Washington DC runs on abortion. Without it…”

“Think about how mad I am!” Bill said in a raspy drawl. “One more punch on my card and my tenth abortion would have been free!”

“Can you even, you know, anymore?” George asked. Bill was ghastly in eco-friendly fluorescents of the meeting chamber.

“Ah got fingers, don’t I? I still have cigars and a tongue!” Bill insisted. There were groans around the table.

“We’re not even halfway through the summer intern season,” Josh said sadly. “And the fall crop of aides will be coming here soon.”

“Well, I’m not gonna start wearing goddamn condoms,” Matt said. There were nods all around the table.

“And you can’t trust cooze when they say they are on birth control,” Bill said. His voice rose in a mocking falsetto, “Don’t worry, I have an IUD.”

“They never have an IUD,” George said. “And I swear they get pregnant the first time you nut in ‘em.”

“Ah never got an aide pregnant,” a voice drawled. Five or six of the men at the table groaned and said, “Shut up, Lindsay!”

Barry put on his best shit-eating grin. “Me neither,” he said and then paused to light a Newport.

“How is that possible?” Bill asked, his ashen face screwing itself up.

“I pinch my hog right before I jizz. Diverts it into my bladder,” Barry said smugly. “It’s an ancient Chinese secret taught to me by Angela Merkel.”

“I guess we could get vasectomies,” Mitch ventured.

“Fuck that,” Bill said. “I’m not letting some doctor cut off my balls.”

“That’s not what happens, Bill,” Barry said.

“I don’t fucking care. I’ve had knives and scissors near my balls too many times to volunteer for it.”

“We could go back to just blowing loads on their faces,” George offered.

“Pre-cum,” Matt said. “That’s got me twice. Fucking bleeding me dry; they all love Planned Parenthood but insist on a fancy clinic when it comes their turn.”

Numerous hands pounded on the table in agreement.

“We could go back to blow-jobs only,” Mitt said. Cries of “Who let fuckface in here?” and “Noooo! I need my sloppy creampies!” went around the room.

“It was your wife, Hawley!” someone yelled. “You did this to us!” Josh blanched and stepped away from the table.

“Now, now, gentlemen,” Mitch said. “We can’t turn on each other.”

“Y’all are forgetting the old ways, the tried and true ways, the ways we used to do it,” said Joe, squinting in the pool of light around the table.

“There aren’t enough flights of stairs in all of DC!” George said forcefully.

“You punch her, dammit, punch her right in the twat, and and and that place right above, you know, below the belly button, you know, the place!” Joe said.

“The fupa,” Matt said and grinned to himself.

“I heard you can dust yr pecker with cocaine and cause contractions,” Bill said.

“They make abortion pills, you know,” Josh said. “I use them on my wife all the time.”

“Where are we supposed to buy these magical pills, if they even exist? Canada?” a voice asked.

“Or Mexico,” Josh said.

“What about feedin’ them Plan B every day?” Mitch asked. “We can put it in the water in their break room.”

“They’d all have constant periods and be of no use to anyone,” Matt said. “And all the male aides would turn into fairies.”

“Fairies?” Lindsay asked, sitting up for the first time and paying attention.

“Doughy, fat fairies from all the estrogen,” Matt said glumly.

“Ah like ‘em fat,” Lindsay said. “Just get in there and get a real double handful.”

The bolted door to the meeting door swung open, the alarms failed to sound, and a diving bell shape loomed in the bright light from the hallway.

“Or we take care of them my way,” Hillary said.

“RUN!” Bill screamed hoarsely. “RUN!”