This was my first effort to rewrite the Starr report in the style of a better writer.  It's OK but lacks the sustained narrative quality of "Justice At The Bat."

 (with apologies to Edgar Allan Poe)

 (c) 1998  by Stephanie Vardavas <>
 Once upon a furlough dreary, while I labored, weak and weary,
 O'er the Federal budgets for the year to come, the year before,
 Thinking, "Gingrich needs a slapping," suddenly there came a tapping,
 As of some one gently rapping, rapping at the Oval Office door.
 "'Tis some young intern," I muttered, "tapping at the Oval Office door-
 Only this and nothing more."
 Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak November;
 Government shut down! Workers furloughed! I was lonely, craved succor.
 Eagerly I wished for food now; - she entered, and her gaze was lewd, now,
 Direct, she looked into my eyes and nibbled pizza, signalled MORE-
 Oh, this young and lively intern let me know that I could score-
 --------Secret here for evermore?
 And the furtive, brazen, long gasp! snapping of her undies' thong straps
 Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
 So that now, to keep the Secret Service at bay, I would peek out, say
 "Important papers entreating entrance at the Oval Office door;-
 Just some papers entreating entrance at the Oval Office door;-
 --------This it is and nothing more."
 Presently my need grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
 I cried, "Monica, truly your tender attentions I implore;
 Kiss me THERE, and THERE, and THERE!, and so thoroughly did she fare,
 That I almost let her make me spill my seed upon the floor!
 But I feared we'd be discovered, here behind th' half-open door,
 --------'twas my study, but so much more.
 Deep into the abyss peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing
 An independent counsel with more pow'r than any one before;
 Monica's silence now was broken, Betty Currie gave no token,
 And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "suborn?"
 This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "suborn!"
 --------Great expectations, let us mourn.

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