«Please, daughter of the Wopotamis,» said the Hawk, standing imperiously in his feathered headdress and looking down at Jennifer. «What do the dumb palefaces know?»
«You’re besmirching all the Indian nations!»
«What have these people been doing to us all these years?»
«Us?»
The microphones crackled on again, and again the sniffling, nasal voice of the Chief Justice shot out of the speakers. «Let the record show that the Court will recommend to the government of the United States that it will enter into immediate negotiations with the Wopotami nation to seek a reasonable solution for past malfeasances. Without argument, the Court upholds the plaintiff’s case. It will be announced forthwith. We are adjourned sine die!» And then, without realizing that the microphone was still operative, the Chief Justice added. «Someone call the White House and tell Subagaloo to shove it! That son of a bitch got us into this mess, he always does. He probably had our goddamned air-conditioning shut off, too. I’m sweating right down to the crack in my ass!… Sorry, dear.»
News of the Wopotami triumph reached the lobby and the steps of the Supreme Court in a matter of minutes. Chief Thunder Head, in full regalia, strode down the marble corridor toward the great hall expecting the adulation and the celebration of his people. A celebration was, indeed, in progress, but what the celebration was about appeared somewhat irrelevant to the celebrants. The huge gallery was filled with men and women of all ages, dancing, prancing, from awkward waltzes to hard rock, the participants whirling and wiggling to the recorded sounds of upgraded, speeded-up versions of original Indian chants from enormous speakers. Even the guards, the tourists, and the D.C. police joined partners hither and yon; the revered great hall was the scene of a wild carnival.
«Oh, good God!» exclaimed Sunrise Jennifer Redwing as she walked out of the elevator with Sam and Aaron on the first floor.
«It’s a joyous occasion,» said Pinkus. «Your people are rightfully jubilant.»
«My people? Those aren’t my people!»
«What do you mean?» asked Devereaux.
«Look! Do you see a single Wopotami, a single painted face or Indian skirt dancing or singing or shouting?»
«No, but I see a lot of Wopotamis out on the floor.»
«So do I, but I can’t understand what they’re doing.»
«Well, they seem to be going from group to group encouraging … oh, oh, they’re carrying—»
«Paper cups! And plastic bottles—it’s what Roman told us. They’re passing out yaw-yaw juice!»
«Slight correction,» said Sam. «They’re selling it.»
«I’ll murder that Calfnose!»
«Second suggestion, Jennifer,» said Aaron, chuckling. «Instead, put him on your finance committee.»
EPILOGUE
The New York DAILY NEWS
WOPS TAKE SAC
Washington, D.C., Friday—In a stunning decision, the Supreme Court has upheld the legitimacy of a suit brought by the Wopotami tribe of Nebraska against the government of the United States. The Court, in a unanimous decision, held that a territory of several hundred square miles in and around Omaha is the rightful property of the Wopotamis, according to a treaty affirmed by the Forty-ninth Congress in 1878. This land includes the headquarters of the Strategic Air Command. The Senate and the House of Representatives have been called back into emergency session, and attorneys from several thousand law firms have expressed interest in the forthcoming negotiations.
IL PROGRESSO ITALIANO
Questo giornale muove obiezone all’insensibilita’ del Daily News facendo uno di un’espressione denigratoria nella tastata di ieri. Noi non siamo dei «pellarossa salvaggi»!
(This newspaper takes great exception to the insensitivity of the Daily News by the use of a derogatory ethnic slur in its headline of yesterday. We are not redskinned savages!)
HOLLYWOOD VARIETY
Beverly Hills, Wednesday—Messrs. Robbins and Martin, top execs at the William Morris Agency, have announced that a major deal has been concluded between their clients, known at this juncture only as six terrif actors who’ve been toiling for the government as an antiterrorist unit for the past five years, and Consolidated-Colossal Studios, Emmanuel Greenberg, producer, for a $100,000,000 pic starring their clients who’ll be ’picting themselves. At the press conference held at Merv’s Place, that great legit character actor, Henry Irving Sutton, made an appearance, stating that he was so moved by the property he was coming out of retirement to play a major role. Apparently Greenberg was also mucho moved—he intermittently wept, too choked up to speak. Many at the press outing said it was because he was so proud, but others maintained it was due to the negotiations. Greenberg’s former wife, Lady Cavendish, was also present. She kept smiling.
THE NEW YORK TIMES
CIA DIRECTOR FOUND ALIVE
RESCUED FROM AN ISLAND IN THE DRY TORTUGAS
Miami, Thursday—A fishing yacht, the Contessa, owned by the international industrialist Smythington-Fontini, spotted smoke from a fire on the beach of an uninhabited out island in the Dry Tortugas. As the Contessa drew in to shore, the crew and passengers heard loud cries for help both in English and Spanish and saw three men racing into the water, giving thanks for having been found. One of the three was Vincent F. A. Mangecavallo, director of the Central Intelligence Agency, until this morning presumed lost at sea last week. The presumption was based on the debris of the yacht Gotcha Baby, on which Mr. Mangecavallo was a passenger and which was wrecked in a tropical storm. The debris included several personal effects of the director.
The story of survival is one of extraordinary heroism on the part of Mr. Mangecavallo. According to the two Argentinean crew, who’ve been flown back to their families in Rio de Janeiro, the director literally dragged them through shark-infested waters by their holding on to his legs as Mr. Mangecavallo swam to the uninhabited island. Upon hearing the news, the President said, «I knew my old navy buddy would pull through!» As previously noted, the Navy Department had no comment other than to say, «That’s nice.»
In Brooklyn, New York, one Rocco Sabatini, upon reading the account of the rescue, said to his wife over the breakfast table. «Hey, what the hell’s going on here? Bam-Bam can’t swim.»
THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
RASH OF BANKRUPTCIES
SHOCKS FINANCIAL AMERICA
New York, Friday—Lawyers are scurrying throughout the corridors of corporate America today, rushing in and out of executive suites and board meetings, trying to put scores of conglomerate Humpty Dumpties back together again. The conventional wisdom is that it’s impossible, as massive overextensions of debt incurred in the recent frenzy of buyouts, and block stock purchases have left many of the nation’s industrial giants, both corporate and individual, jointly and severally, with empty pockets, red faces, and, in a number of cases, a sudden desire to leave the country.