WASHINGTON, D.C. — He doesn’t like to do it; in fact, he loathes it every time he has to. That doesn’t change the fact that, every so often, Vice President Mike Pence has to lie to Mother about things. At the very least, Pence occasionally finds himself in the unenviable position of hiding information from Mother, the woman he calls his wife, if he’s not lying outright to her. Sometimes it’s a matter of national security, sometimes it’s to make sure that some plan or another the administration has isn’t leaked out whatsoever to the enemies of the people, but other times, like tonight, it’s for other reasons entirely.
With his noise-cancelling headphones firmly in place over his ears, Vice President Pence has been listening to porn on his iPad for the past half an hour. He took advantage of the fact that Mother was doing her bedtime routine in the bathroom to bring up a website that trafficks in free online pornography, and he cued up some stuff that sounded interesting to him. However, the vice president got a little nervous about watching the images of people enjoying fornicating with each other, and so he turned the iPad over next time, and chose to simply listen to all the frivolous sex being had.
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Pence didn’t want to raise any alarm with his wife, so he decided to turn the volume down on his headphones, too. There was no reason to risk her overhearing the moans and other noises from the strapping young men, who Pence could only presume were good, God fearing Christian Patriots, was there? But, his breathing must have been a little quickened from the clandestine excitement of it all, because at some point Mother came out of the bathroom, and tapped him on the top of the head. With his eyes closed, he hadn’t even noticed Mother come back into the bedroom. He was slightly startled by her tapping.
“Oh, sorry dear, did I disturb you,” Mother asked Pence.
Vice President Pence’s mind raced. He decided to try to play it cool, like he’s seen so many people in secular, godless, amoral television and motion pictures do in similar situations. He let a smile creep across his face.
“No, not at all, Mother,” Pence said. “I was just listening to some things on the iPad to help me relax for bedtime.”
Mother smiled back.
“Oh yeah? What do you have on,” Mother asked innocently, no idea in her mind about the kind of smut her dear husband was flooding his ear canals with at the time. “Is it church hymns? You haven’t listened to hymns at bedtime for a long time.”
Pence shook his head.
“No, mother, it’s not hymns,” Pence answered. “It’s one of those, um, you know, videos where people whisper into a microphone for a few minutes. I think they call it ASMR. Yeah, that’s it! I’m listening to ASMR!”
He’d done it. He was in the clear. Pence had figured out, on the fly, exactly how he could pass off the porn as something else, without her ever knowing. Alas, that was not quite the case, however.
“Is it any good? Can I give it a listen,” Mother asked as she reached for his headphones.
Oh, gosh darn it all to frigging fudging, heck! He really thought he was out of the woods! With probably far too much urgency in his voice, he denied her access to the headphones and iPad.
“NO! NO YOU CANNOT,” Pence shouted, realizing mid-scream he needed to tone himself down. “That is, I’m sorry Mother, but you can’t. Because this is, um, top secret ASMR. It’s a matter of vital national security. We’re thinking of using this for our military recruits, and there are, you know, national security secrets in the recordings. So I can’t let you hear them. But otherwise, I would definitely let you, but you know, DARN! I can’t, because of, um, all those national security secrets I just told you about.”
Mother paused for a moment. She gave her own shrug.
“Okay, no biggie. Whatever you say Mike,” Mother said. “We’ll just put this on the list of things we don’t talk about. Like the brown babies in cages, or when you unleashed an HIV epidemic in Indiana when you were governor. A politician’s wife must be flexible and keep all kinds of secrets for her husband. Even embarrassing or problematic ones. Sometimes you just have to be someone’s beard — er I mean — confidante and loyal supportive wife, Mike. No biggie.”
Pence breathed a sigh of relief. He’d done it. He’d have to be a lot more careful about when he listened to porn the next time, but he’d managed to wiggle off the hook this time, and for that he was very blessed. Saying a silent prayer of thanks to God, Pence listened to the rest of the porn clip and fell asleep, his pajama pants turgid, and his soul satisfied.
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Writer/comedian James Schlarmann is the founder of The Political Garbage Chute and his work has been featured on The Huffington Post. You can follow James on Facebook, Spotify, and Instagram, but not Twitter because Twitter is a cesspool.
