"You know, there's another thing about this whole deal of me bein' president, Renata..."

"What's that?"

"Well, it's that fella, Rapaire. He has some strange ideas percolation' around in his head, and I ain't blind to what's been goin' on. He has made quite a few of them Freudian slips...mostly havin' to do with when he will be president...oops! And then he says, Oh, I meant when Chongo will be president..."

"I noticed that too, Chongo, and I didn't like it one bit, but I didn't feel it was my place to say anything about it."

"Well," smiles Chongo, "If I don't win...and you and I know I plainly can't...then it don't matter, does it? Rapaire won't have no reason to try and bump me off no longer then. It will be a dead issue, if you pardon the expression."

"Yes, I suppose that's one less thing to worry about, Chongo, but it's sure a shame when you have to worry about your own second in command stabbing you in the back."

"Darned right," grins Chongo. "Now just imagine how insecure that old John McCain must feel with the Killa from Wasilla standin' right behind him."