The Jones v. Clinton Soap — A Continuing Serial Saga from American Politics Journal

Chapter V:
Paula K. Carpenter Jones Meets the President!
FROM THIS…TO THIS…TO THIS?…

You be the judge. Is Paula Jones for Real?

January 16, 1998 — The two-block-long startling white limousine pulled into the muddy field where Susan Carpenter McBimbo, dressed in Paula's floral muumuu and spiked heels waited in the drizzle. It was Saturday, January 17th 1997 - "B-Day" as she called it, after Bill Clinton. Susie wasn't going to let anything stop her, not her ridiculous outfit, not Paula's multiple personalities -- no, nothing would stop her now.

She began to sing her favorite song from "Gypsy:"

"I'm gonna live and live now, get what I want, I know how, eye on the target and wham, one shot just one shot and BAM!--- Hey Mr. Clin-ton here I ammmmmmm!......Don't tell me not to lie, I simply got to, a finger in my eye, it's mine and not you, Don't tell me you're allowwwwwed to RAIN ON MY PAR-RADE!!!!!," Susan sang out like a banshee.

Sensey, the limo driver almost turned tail and left as he saw the bleached blonde floozie madly twirling in what was now a downpour, her mascara dripping down her cheeks creating a macabre mask of evil which with numbing pity, somehow forced Sensey to remain.

The car, chosen especially by McBimbo was an awful affair. It was nearly 47 feet long with an open trunk that had been converted into a hot tub. McBimbo had instructed the limo company to fill the tub with hot water and "Mr. Bubble" just before departing for the Jones RV. The rear of the car was so heavy that a set of 6 tires and specially crafted air shocks were needed at its rear to hold it level. In order to negotiate a left or right turn, Sensey had to begin the turn from the far opposite lane often resulting in near fist fights with other drivers.

It was a pimpmobile to end all pimpmobiles and frankly Sensey was mortified to drive it.

McBimbo saw the car and stopped her catawalling. She loved it. She approached the car as if approaching the Pope - with awe and reverence.

"If only I had a car like this at the senior prom, everything would have been different," she said out loud.

"Scuse me, Ma'am - what did you say?," queried Sensey.

"Nothing. Forget it. Look Ms. Jones will be out momentarily. Make sure you have that carpet rolled from the rear left door to the RV door. I don't want her to get those shoes wet. I might be able to exchange them for my size tomorrow," she ordered.

"Yes Ma'am," replied Sensey moving to the rear seat under which a 20 foot long brilliant red carpet was hidden. He rolled out the carpet and waited by the rear door.

The tension was thick. The door to the recreational vehicle opened and out stepped the staff. They kind of lined up along the carpet's edges as would an honor guard for Princess Diana.

Out stepped Paula Corbin Kopeckne Wilkes Booth Carpenter Jones.

She was stunning.

Sensey drew in his breath and thought about doing her in on the fold-out couch in his tiny Baltimore apartment. McBimbo even thought about doing her. Everything was thinking the same thing at the same time.

Paula strode to the car, totally unaware of her new-found beauty. She had a mission. A mission for Mary Jo, John, and Karen -- all of whom were now buzzing alive in her pea brain. Together, like a concerto of greed, they worked the synapses of her torso - propelling her to their final revenge on the presidency.

She moved into the car, crossed her silk-swathed legs and Sensey shut the door. McBimbo climbed in through the right side door and the rest piled into a land cruiser McBimbo had made up to look like a secret service advance car.

They moved through the early morning fog down Constitution Avenue, turned right onto "K" Street, where Susan had spent many a happy hour fooling around with this or that lobbyist, and then right onto Pennsylvania Avenue. As they approached the White House they could see crowds gathered ten-deep lining the block. A cavalcade of television cameras festooned a scaffold facing the portico where Paula would exit her car and walk, ever so slowly into the White House and the Map Room where she had dreamed of making monkey love to the President.

As the limo moved through the throng, news photographers pressed their lenses to the smoky windows of the car trying to get that perfect shot that would make the front page of the Post the next morning. McBimbo had been right. They were all here. Agence France, CNN, AP, the New York Times , Reverend Moon, all three networks and even FOX News' Tony Snow could be spied combing his hair in preparation for a live feed to Rupert Murdoch's satellites hovering in space waiting to beam his words and Paula's image to more than 2 billion people worldwide.

The limo pulled up to the East Gate of the White House. An immaculately tailored guard bent to the window and asked Sensey what his business was.

"Are you kidding man,?" he said,"That's Paula Jones and her sidekick - I mean 'hair-consultant' - Susan Carpenter McBimbo, in the back seat."

"Sorry," said the guard, "You're not expected, they're not on the list. You'll have to back up, and back out sir."

McBimbo came unglued. She yanked open her door and stomped over to the guard and said, "Listen buster, we're here to depose the President. Do you know who I am? Do you!?"

"Yes madam. I know. You're that miserably failed over the hill bimbo that has her claws in Ms. Jones. My dad went to USC with you before you dropped out. Didn't they used to call you... "

She slapped him cutting him off in mid-sentence. At that moment, a kind looking man, with a wire in his ear approached her. He put his arm around her shoulders gently. But then she felt his thumb jambed painfully into her carotid artery. He applied more pressure.

"Listen lady, I'm gonna help you out here. Get in the car like a good slut. Tell the driver he has the wrong place. Tell him the deposition's been moved," he said in perfect calm.

She was shaking as she plunged back into the car. He leaned in and gave her a slip of paper.

"Here's the new address. Your "lawyers" are already there. So is the President and Mr. Bennett,. Now scat!," he ordered, just slightly raising his voice.

The Secret Service agent slammed the door almost catching McBimbo's ankle. She handed the piece of paper to Sensey.

"Ooooh. Okay. I guess there's been a change in plans huh Ms. McBimbo, I mean McMillan."

He gingerly backed the car through crowds of newsmen and back on Pennsylvania Avenue.

As they pulled away, McBimbo nervously glanced out the rear opera window and saw 100 Television trucks following in hot pursuit as the car moved into Georgetown, across Key Bridge and into Arlington.

Paula hadn't said a word, nor lost her composure in any sense.

As the limo rolled to a stop McBimbo couldn't believe her eyes. They were in front of "Bowl-A-Rama" in one of the seedier sections of the city.

"Oh no, she groaned. They didn't, they couldn't. Shit!," she exclaimed.

The CNN truck rolled up behind them and she could see Candy Crowley heave her bulk out of the truck. Candy was laughing so hard her that her glasses fell from her face onto the blacktop.

"I'm not going in there Paula! I'm not. This is humiliating! Gawd, oh Gawd," McBimbo cried.

"Don't worry Susie," crooned Paula,"It's all okay. I feel more at home here. Don't worry. Anyway, I don't want you in there. You'd fall apart. You stay here with Sensey. Talk to Candy of Tony Snow. Keep yourself busy. This won't take long."

McBimbo looked up at Paula and in an instant understood. It was Paula who was now in control. It was Susan Carpenter McBimbo who was now the puppet. Somehow she felt relaxed. Her part was over. She urinated on the soft leather seat.

Paula would take over now. All of them.

Paula opened the door, not waiting for Sensey to do it for her. She moved through the garish lobby unaware of the reporter's shouted questions. She strolled past the ball washing machine, the shoe rental counter, the sleazy cocktail bar with a projection television now tuned to the "America's Bowling Greats."

She strode past the ladies room labeled "Gals" and the men's room labeled "Strikers." Yes, she was at ease. She knew this place. It was like any bowling center in America. She was home.

Somehow she knew they'd be waiting in the Carnelian Room - a small tobacco-stained room off the main lobby. She entered and the players went silent.

There he was. Bill Clinton, sitting there in a Ralph Lauren hand knitted black sweater. He was wearing Gucci loafers over dark socks. His Brooks Brothers cords shown with newness. His hands were immaculately manicured, his hair perfectly cut with just a hint of boyish muss.

Hillary sat next to him, her hand in his. She smiled sardonically at Paula and looked at Bill with confidence. Bob Bennett sat next to her. He was getting heavier. A court reporter sat off the table but near enough to hear clearly.

Her own lawyers rose as if to greet a queen. They motioned to her to sit across from the President.

She did.

Bob Bennett began to speak.She didn't hear him preferring to simply stare into Bill Clinton's eyes. He stared back and it was as if there was no one else in the room.

Hillary became fidgety as Bennett droned on. The lawyers shuffled papers and argued about the rules they would follow this morning. Bill and Paula paid no attention. They just looked at each other, both at ease, both stubborn -- both bemused.

Attorney Donovan Campbell asked the first question.

Campbell: "Mr. Clinton, could you tell me whether you have ever had extra-marital sex, in any form, with any person since you've been married?"

The President: "No Don, have you?"

Campbell: "I'm not here to answer your questions Mr. President."

The President: " Well, what are you here for, Don."

Campbell: "That's Donovan Mr. President. And I'm here to represent my client."

The President: "Oh, I thought you were here to shake me down for a couple of million dollars, Don."

Campbell: " I object to this Bennett.What the hell is this?!"

Bennett: "Look Campbell, Bill Clinton can answer any way he chooses. Now get on with it you extortionist for Christ."

Campbell: "Mr. President, do you have a distinguishing mark on your private parts?"

The President: "Nope, wanna see? "

Campbell: "No sir. Do you recall meeting Paula Jones on the afternoon of... "

The President: "Nope."

Campbell: "Could you wait until I finish my questions before answering Mr. Clinton?"

The President: "Sure Don, and you can call me Bill. Everyone does. Even my cat."

Paula began to move her foot, ever-so-slowly toward the President's loafers. Mrs. Clinton rose to get a cup of coffee.

Campbell: "Mr. Clinton, are you saying you've never met Paula Corbin Jones."

The President: "Nope. I'm just saying that I meet about a thousand people a day, sometime 10,000 really. I can't remember whether I've met her or not. But, I wouldn't mind. She seems like a lovely woman."

Campbell: "Just answer my questions."

The President: "Just answer my questions, Don -- What the hell do you think you're up to.Do you know you could be disbarred for this circus? The only reason I'm here is because Hillary and I were bored. We thought this might be amusing. Here's a question for you? Do you simply LOVE gay-bashing? You seem to do it so well."

Campbell: "Call Judge Webber Wright. I need her on this one."

The stenographer paused and dialed a satellite phone. Judge Wright's voice came over the tele-conferencing device in the center of the table.

Judge: "Yes, what can I do for you folks?"

Campbell: "Judge. Mr. Clinton refuses to answer my questions in a dignified manner. Now he's questioning me!"

Judge: "Oh, too bad. Bill, are you messing with MR. Campbell?"

The President: "No Susan, just giving him the old Arkansas "traveler."

Judge: "Court Stenographer, read me the transcript."

The stenographer - named MoJean Lutz - reads the transcript."

Judge: "Well, Mr. Campbell, do you enjoy it?"

Campbell: "Enjoy what, your honor?"

Judge: "Enjoy taunting gays in Texas where you back homosexual discrimination laws and participate in anti-abortion rallies. Didn't you almost murder a doctor because he performed a late term abortion on a dying mother?

Campbell: "I object!"

Judge: "Overruled you pompous, undereducated useless turd. Now get back to your questions. Bill, I'm sorry for his outburst."

The President: "No prob Susan. I'm used to it. You should hear Hillary when I forget to put my socks in the hamper."

Judge: "Proceed Mr. Campbell."

Campbell: "Mr. Clinton, have you ever exposed yourself to yourself to Ms. Jones."

The President: "Nope. Not to my knowledge. Of course if I wasn't married and in love with my wife I might -- but only if she asked me -- nicely."

Campbell: " About Geniffer Flowers."

The President: "Who? Oh Gennie. Yeah, well you know Don, some men and their wives go through what's called a mid-life crisis. Now I'm not sayin' that happened to us. And I'm not sayin' I had an affair with Ms.Flowers. I'm too much of gentleman for that. But if I did, and she did, it was only out of fear of getting old. You know how that is Don. Remember that 14 year old intern at your office?"

Campbell: "Why I never. How dare you?"

Judge: "Get on with Mr. Campbell."

By this time Paula had her shoe off and was "shining" the President's loafers with her stockinged right foot. She was imperceptibly slouched in her chair and now slipped lower in order to move to his thigh.

A series of mini-cams hidden in the room whirred capturing her actions on 23 rolls of film from 23 different angles.

Campbell: "Mr. Clinton. Did you murder or order the murder of Mr. Vincent Foster or Mr. Ron Brown?"

Hillary Clinton catapulted from her seat , grabbed the pot of steaming coffee and threw it at Campbell aiming for his crotch and hitting the bulls eye.

Donovan Campbell shrieked like a woman, "You bitch, you mother, you're finished. You and HIM, it's over. Owwwww. God Damn it!"

Judge: "Order, order!"

Bennett:" Ha, ha, haha, ha - I think it's you that is finished Mr. Campbell, you and Ralph Reed, Pat Robertson, Newt Gingrich, Fred Thompson and that wacko Dan Burton. You're all finished.

With that he signalled toward a mirror on the rear wall. Out from behind the wall walked G.Gordon Liddy wearing a C.I.A baseball cap and carrying a Sony video camera and a tape cartridge.

Liddy: Surprise Donny, He's the President of these United States. You are nothing but a blackmailer and a fraud.

He loaded the film in a VCR and pressed "play."

Campbell, who was wiping himself dry paused, and stood drop-jawed, watched the tape as Paula's foot moved to the President's crotch. He could see that Mrs. Clinton had seen the action and done nothing about it. He could see the President's hand gently remove Paula's foot.

He also saw two dozen cameraman emerge from a back room carrying dozens of tape cartridges. They stood over him and stared.

Bennett: "Mr. Campbell, I think this is a good time to move for dismissal."

CampbelL: "Judge, I so move."

Judge: "Granted."

With that Paula, the President and Mrs. Clinton moved from the room. Hillary took Paula's hand.

"Listen Paula. Betty Ford and I are good friends. Let me arrange for you to go to the clinic for a few weeks. When you come home you'll be fine. Bill and I want you to work for us. In the travel office. How does that sound? It's over Paula.We understand. It's tough out there honey. We know it wasn't your fault. C'mon now, don't cry."

Paula leaned on the First Lady as the three walked out into the parking area and into the presidential limousine.

Just before she go into the car, Paula turned to Susan Carpenter McBimbo, she walked up to her and took her hand.

"Susie. I'm sorry.I just couldn't do it. I just couldn't lie anymore. I want to be free from this. You'll be fine. Write that book. It'll sell. You know Americans. Me, well I'm going to divorce my husband and start over...

And Susan, you can keep the muumuu."

Coming Soon — Chapter VI, "Paula Jones: Checking in to Betty Ford"

© 1998, 1997, American Politics Journal Publications Inc.\