THE NOOSE was Dick’s brainchild. And at every opportunity Jane reminded him of just how damaging the optics had been to their careers.

To be fair, Dick thought overturning a presidential election was a lot like the hilarious frat-house pranks that made him a legend.

He gleefully threw himself into the task of reaching out to groups and individuals with a history of mischevious antics at places like Charlottesville and Michigan’s Capitol.

For cash and triage, Dick was the go-to guy.

When the orders came down and he started using untraceable burner phones, he stepped over a line only a brain-dead ‘Delt’ would cross.

You‘d think a White House staffer would know that inciting rioters who uploaded videos of their crimes is a bad idea.

But Dick worked in the Trump White House.

It came as a shock when their boss wasn’t reelected. Suddenly Jane and Dick were without jobs.

Their combined salaries as lower-level staffers had allowed them to rent a sweet little place on the periphery of Georgetown.

The dear couple had worked in the White House promoting policies that would have made it impossible for hundreds of millions of people to visit our country. It was all very romantic.

Now they’re looking at apartments in the less expensive parts of town, neighborhoods where working-class immigrants live.

They’re confident their new neighbors will welcome them with open arms. What they’re not sure is if they should park their BMW 3 Series on the street. There’s more than a year left on its lease.

Dick and Jane hate welfare programs. They’ll tell you how welfare makes poor people even poorer, and lazier.

The young White House staffers met and fell in love while shaping messages in favor of slashing nutrition programs.

Since losing their jobs when a new president was inaugurated, Jane and Dick have maxed out their credit cards and over the years Jane has hit up her parents and grandparents one time too many.

Things being what they are, they’ve agreed that until they’re gainfully employed again, they’ll hold their noses and accept a bit of welfare themselves. Ayn Rand can go fuck herself.

They were disappointed to learn they’d have to pay for chardonnays and cabs out of their own pocket.

Dick and Jane were part of the White House communications team that promoted the lie that the election was stolen and the Electoral College needed to be stopped.

They knew instantly the murderous riot was a disaster for their careers.

The rioters claim they were just following orders from the president.

Even die-hard supporters who excused away years of shameless abuses condemned the former president, but not until after he had lost the election.

Dick and Jane are desperately working to justify their resumes. We were just following orders is how they spin it during job interviews.

There haven’t been many.

Jane and Dick are looking to pick up a few bucks until they land fancy career-path jobs again.

Jane checked out a waitress gig.

She found that servers are paid less than minimum wage and depend on tips that would barely cover her Ubers to and from the diner. Besides, who wants to waste a $7000 orthodontically perfect smile on a lousy twenty percent tip?

While working in the White House, Dick and Jane developed social-media blitzes opposing a higher minimum wage which, they argued, would be paid to teens getting generous allowances anyway.

Jane has rehearsed a graceful way to turn down offers which aren’t to her liking. She didn’t need to use it at the SunnySide Cafe.

The manager politely informed her she wasn’t qualified for the job. He boxed up two free slices of SunnySide’s signature velvet cream pie and sent her on her way.