The Bushido: The Continuing Adventures of Little Georgie Dubya
Georgie seemed like a very happy little boy. Happy but mean. Very mean. Especially happy when he was being mean, but he was mean in a sweetly, sneaky manner, so people didn’t always realize it. That’s not all that unusual in children, especially children of powerful parents. Especially children of second generational powerful parents. Georgie was a lucky boy.
He lived in a number of very large houses that his family had managed to accumulate over the years. His family was well known and well connected. That permitted him to do pretty much whatever he wanted to do.
Some of the houses were in New England. He had been born near New Haven, Connecticut, while his Daddy was attending Yale University, a family tradition. Others were in the great State of Texas, in or near Midland. Cowboy land.
Georgie was not a very bright little boy nor was he a very good little boy. But then he didn’t need to be either. He was a very rich little boy and his parents could afford to provide him with all the friends he needed. And they did. Consequently, although he was neither good nor bright nor popular, he didn’t know it. And any stranger seeing him with the group of children that frequently accompanied him would certainly have believed that he was a very special little boy.
His immediate family was large. He had three brothers and two sisters, but one of the sisters, Robin, died when she was very little. His dad was pretty busy in the oil business. At first he was just an oil drilling equipment clerk and didn’t earn very much money. But he didn’t need to because his family was very well off. They had very good friends in Arab countries, even kings and princes. Grandpa Prescott took care of everybody. Georgie liked Grandpa Prescott.
The day was overcast with a hint of snow in the dirty grey mantle that formed the late autumn sky. The leaves had all turned to golds and reds and browns, grown brittle, and started their lemming-like descent to earth, where they would form a crunchy carpet, for a while. The lawn had turned from a bright vivid green to straw yellow.
The pond was murky and cold, but not cold enough yet to form the deliciously dangerous layer of brittle ice that Georgie liked to trick his friends into skating on. The pond was not all that deep so that when the ice broke under them, they were really not in very much danger, just cold and wet.
It was a boring time of year for Georgie and Georgie did not like boredom. Perhaps, he thought, he should have gone to school. But his parents weren’t home and the servants were somewhat afraid of him, and he hadn’t been in the mood for school. He should have made some of his friends cut school as well. He liked to play with animals. Especially small helpless animals. He did have some curiosity about how they were made and he satisfied it sometimes by operating on them. Perhaps he could be a doctor when he grew up if his parents could fix it so that he didn’t have to study too much. He hated the boring parts of school, like classes. He liked sports, sort of, but he didn’t like to practice so he didn’t always get to play them, even when his parents fixed it so that he was guaranteed a spot on the team. A good spot usually, but then he still had to go to practices. So he mainly liked to go to games and cheer for the team.
The damned animals were learning to avoid him and the little lizards he played with during the warmer months had disappeared. Strange he thought as he was sure he had not operated on all of them yet. And he had left at least several appendages on all of them. Maybe he could talk his mother into buying him some fish. Fish couldn’t escape very easily.
That gave him an idea. The pond was regularly stocked with fish so that his Dad and his Dad’s friends could go fishing without too much trouble. They did that with hunting as well and Georgie enjoyed it a great deal. Hunting animals that were trapped in confined areas was much more practical than chasing after them in open spaces where they might escape. And it was just as much fun, at least for the hunters. Georgie really liked guns and his parents had made sure to buy one for him when he was still very little. He was not a very good shot though, which pissed him off. Practice would have improved his accuracy but, as we know, Georgie didn’t like practice (neither did his friend Dickey). It was too constraining and embarrassing. And when something embarrassed Georgie, he got really pissed off.
He returned to the house and rummaged around his dad’s fishing equipment until he found the large net he wanted. It was much faster and easier to catch fish with a net than having to wait around until one was stupid enough to bite on a sliver of bait embedded on a sharp hook. Nonetheless, Georgie grew more bored and turned introspective. He wondered what he would be when he grew up (if he had to grow up). He wasn’t sure he did, his family was pretty powerful. Still, it might be fun to be a grown up, as long as there wasn’t too much work involved. And if he screwed up, he knew he could count on his family to save him.
Life was good for Georgie if not necessarily for those around him. He wondered how those around him would fare when he grew up, when it was his turn to be rich and powerful.
 Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Ocala, Florida, 2005; all rights reserved