Laurie Boris

Hi. It’s been a while. I wrote a thing. There will be more things. And in early 2026, I’ll be publishing “Boychik Take Two,” the sequel to…you guessed it. In the next few weeks, I’ll have excerpts, title reveals, and more info. If you haven’t already subscribed to my newsletter, it would be a good time to sign up! As always, thank you for reading.

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The Council: Phone Call Edition

“I tried to tell them,” said the one they’d called Forty-Three and a Half.

“I know,” Forty-four said. “We all did. But even now, we can’t let hope die.”

“Face it,” she said. “It’s done. Dead and buried. RIP hope. Even my Man from Hope isn’t saying much these days. Mostly he hopes for a decent bowel movement once in a while.”

“You could always make me laugh, even in the darkest times.”

“I have to laugh,” she said. “If I don’t, I might punch someone’s lights out.”

“No violence, though.”

She laughed darkly. “Of course not. Why would I do a thing like that? You know that’s all fake news.”

He didn’t comment.

“Did you read Kamala’s book?” she asked.

“I did.”

“And?”

“I…can’t say she’s not wrong on a number of issues.”

“Interesting.”

He didn’t comment.

“You can say it. Joe was…”

“A good man. Who had his flaws. Like we all do.”

“Oh, come on,” she said. “He had an ego the size of Trump’s cankles. You know it’s true.”

“Yes, it’s true.” He sighed. “It could get the best of him, at times.”

“At the worst of times.”

“We can’t rewrite history, much as we’d like to. We can only learn from it and try not to mess up the same way next time.”

“Do you think we’ve learned anything, from this?”

“Truthfully? No,” he said. “I don’t think we have. Not yet. They think they can shut me up, but while I still have breath in this body, I’m going to damn well try to get folks to care.”

“I heard on a podcast that the world’s governments are currently almost three-quarters autocratic.”

“I hope to God we won’t be joining them.”

“We’re already three quarters there. Look around you, for chrissakes. Cancelling the comedians, weaponizing free speech—and us?”

“I do look around me,” he said. “Every damn day. Don’t think I don’t see it. Doesn’t mean I like it.”

“I’m not asking you to like it. I’m only reading the handwriting on the wall.”

“We can change it. It’s not too late.”

“I’ve always thought it might be nice to live in Sweden. You know. After.”

“So that’s it,” he said. “After everything, you’re giving up.”

“I don’t look at it as giving up. More like quality of life. Come on. We both have grandchildren. Well, I do, and you probably will, some day. Do you want Sasha’s and Malia’s kids growing up under autocratic rule?”

“If those with the biggest platforms and voices give up,” he said, “it’s like admitting they’ve already won. And I refuse to do that. For those same future grandchildren. I want them to have what I had. I mean, have.”

“Aha. See? You’ve been thinking about it.”

“When I allow the darker thoughts to intrude. But the two of us are hardly going to solve all the world’s problems in one call.”

“I know. It’s just good to get this out of my head. To talk with someone who’s been there.”

“You’re welcome.”

The voice broke in. Pleasant, female, artificial. “You have thirty seconds left. Thank you for using the Trump prison calling plan.”

“That’s it then, Madame Secretary.” He sighed. “Until next time.”

“Sweden,” she said. “Just think about it.”