Praline Goes To Washington: Or, the Erotic Misdeeds of a Newly Native Californian in Our Nation's Capitol (The Perils of Praline Book 2) by Marshall Thornton

Author:Marshall Thornton
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Publisher: Kenmore Books
Published: 2017-01-19T05:00:00+00:00

8

IN WHICH OUR TITILLATING HERO ELECTROCUTES A VIP

F all. The stage began to fall. Praline bolted out from under the stage in time to turn around and see Yolanda, who was still standing center stage, sway to the left, then the right with the stage beneath her.

“Jump!” Praline yelled. And his possibly, maybe, mother-in-law/boss dove off the stage and into his arms. Thankfully she barely weighed anything. He was fairly certain it was a SAG/AFTRA rule that actresses could not weigh more than a hundred and five pounds.

As he set Yolanda onto the floor, the stage completely collapsed into a pile of twisted galvanized pipes and painted plywood shards.

“You saved me, Petunia.”

Just then, the same three firemen Praline had seen before rushed into the ballroom. They spread out around the room and began chopping at the smoke-spewing vents. Praline walked over to the nearest fireman.

“Excuse me. Should we evacuate the building?”

“Sorry, can’t answer that. The court records are sealed.”

“Does that mean the building is on fire? Or does it mean the building is not on fire?”

“Once again, court order.”

This wasn’t making a lot of sense to Praline, so he asked what was becoming an obvious question: “What court case are you talking about?”

“Dump v District of Columbia. Allegations Dump Tower is not up to code are definitely, positively not proven.”

“It’s an ongoing case,” Praline guessed.

“And there’s a gag order.”

Just then Yolanda asked, “What is he saying? Should we evacuate?”

“Apparently, it’s optional,” Praline said.

“Then I’m going up to my room to lie down.” She kissed Praline on the cheek and said, “Thank you for saving me. You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

And with that, she was gone. Still glowing from receiving a kiss on the cheek from one of this all-time favorite actresses and possible, one day, maybe, who knows, mother-in-law, Praline thought about what he should do next.

Somehow he had to meet President-elect Dump and convince him to be nice to people. How could he do that? He reached into his pocket for one of his caramels—he was still starving and sugar always helped his thinking—and instead found a plan. He had the future vice president-elect’s room key in his pocket. Would Mr. Dense be able to help him get a meeting with Dump? It did seem possible. Even likely. In fact, the vice president-elect might even help him convince Dump to become a better person. Stranger things have happened. Well, no they haven’t, but it was nice to think they had.

So, all he had to do was remember Dense’s room number. It was 19 something. He took the elevator up to the nineteenth floor, trying to remember. Had Dense said, 1902? Or 1920? Or 1922? He thought there was a two in the room number, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe there was a three. 1903? 1930? 1923? Or was it a four?

Once he arrived on the nineteenth floor, there wasn’t anything to do but start trying out the card key. But where to start? As

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