“Is François Mitterrand in The Oval Office with us right now, Grandpa?” Finnegan asked gently.

“I met with him, I-I-I tell you,” Joe said, red-in-face and shaking. “He was as real as you sitting in front of me, Ashley.”

“Ashley is my aunt, Grandpa,” Finnegan said.

“He had a message for you, Ashley,” Joe continued. “He said you-you-you should never listen to disco.”

“Disco?” Hunter asked.

“I called him ‘MIttens,’” Joe said. “It was like a nickname. We rassled all the time.”

“What did he say about disco?” Hunter asked, sitting up from the rug he had been curled up on like a diseased cat.

La discothèque, c’est nul,” Joe said in a high pitched Parisian accent. “Mangez le fameux!

“I don’t speak Frog,” Hunter said. He has spent most of the morning picking compulsively at scabs. A few lines of dark blood had dried on his arms.

“I’ll take any risk to tie back the hands of time and stay with you here tonight,” Joe half-sang.

“That’s a Styx song,” Hunter said, batting away distractions.

Joe’s eyes darkened and tears began to well.

“Can we give him another injection?” Hunter asked Finnegan.

“Too much and he could have a stroke,” Finnegan said. “We have to wait at least twelve hours.”

“Stroke? How could we tell?” Hunter asked.

“Can we call Karine?” Finnegan asked. “She seems to make him make a little more sense.”

“Only because he thinks Jen Pskai got a really deep tan,” Hunter said, laughing, scratching himself.

Kamala strolled into The Oval Office talking on her phone. “Oh, yeah. I’m going to have the carpet and wallpaper stripped out. Old man smell, you know.” She walked into the Presidential Shitter and slammed the door behind her.

“She fucking has her own office,” Hunter said viciously.

“Corn Pop was one bad dude,” Joe mumbled.

“He’s playing all the hits,” Hunter snorted. “And I still want to know what François Mitterrand said about disco.”

“He said, disco sucks.”

“Disco was great!” Hunter protested. “Cocaine, girls in tight pants, big jungle bushes you had to hack away at to get to the cookie, cocaine…”

“Don’t use ellipses, Dad… you know they make me anxious,” Finnegan said.

“I’m beginning to think your grandfather didn’t actually talk to François Mitterrand at all,” Hunter said skeptically.