Transcript of telephone call to Condoleezza Rice from her twin sister, Condoqueesha. Dec 18 – 3:07 a.m.

Condoleezza: (sleepy) Hello?

Condoqueesha: Condi? That you?

Condoleezza: (sighs) Oh, Condoqueesha, I’m sorry, this is not the ti–

Condoqueesha: What’s the matter? You got Matt Lauer waiting outside your door to interview you, or somethin’?

Condoleeza: What is it this time?

Condoqueesha: That First Lady friend of yours. I’m reading the Star, and I quote, “Dr. Rice, who I think would be a really good candidate for President, is not interested. Probably because she is single, her parents are no longer living, she’s an only child. You need a very supportive family and supportive friends to have this job.”

Condoleezza: Please, you’ve got to stop with this.

Condoqueesha: You got to quit denying me. Only child! That’s what it says on the Wikipedia, too. Only Child! How you think I feel over here — “Yo Queesh, you know who you look like? You look like that colored lady who work for the pray-zee-dent.”

Condoleezza: And isn’t it nice to know that in two weeks, if you stay clean and sober, you’ll be out of there and set up in your own apartment? It’s all taken care of. (unintelligible curse).

Condoqueesha: What is it?

Condoleezza: Nothing. (sighs) You just made me end a sentence with a preposition.

Condoqueesha: Condi, I appreciate what you doing for me, gettin’ me out of Sable House and all, but really, you got to come down hard like a muthafucker on that Eskimo Pie.

Condoleezza: Eskimo Pie?

Condoqueesha: Like an Oreo, only colder.

Condoleeza: She’s like family to me.

Condoqueesha: I see her look at you in the rose garden. That woman got a gas face. She don’t see you as fambly, not nohow.

Condoleezza: (after a long pause) Queesh?

Condoqueesha: Yeah?

Condoleezza: You’re right. I can’t take it anymore.

Condoqueesha: 643!

Condoleezza: 643?

Condoqueesha: Negro in distress.

Condoleezza: Help me out. You’re good at this sort of thing.

Condoqueesha: I got to know exactly what it is you want.

Condoleezza: I want to crush that schoolmarm bitch.

Condoqueesha: That’s nothin’. Sleep with her husband and take pictures of that wiry gray head while he’s down there gobblin’ Brazil.

Condoleezza: I don’t know if I can do it.

Condoqueesha: (sighs) Okay, Condi. That little gray suit you wore on the plane to Lebanon, send me that. I got fishnets and some green fuck-me-pumps that’ll knock the pray-zee-dent’s dockers off. I’ll fuck that loser until he prays in French.

Condoleezza: What about photos?

Condoqueesha: That man’s so stupid I’ll get him to take pictures.

Condoleezza: I don’t know how to thank you.

Condoqueesha: Fitty K.

Condoleezza: Fifty thousand. I could do that. It would be wrong, but I could do that.