As calls for his resignation grew louder, Governor Paterson sat in a dark room in the basement of the Executive Mansion, a letter of resignation and a gun at his side.

“I’d turn the lights on, but I’m blind” said the Governor.

Surrounded by a cadre of loyalists the Governor paced back and forth, occasionally bumping into furniture.  On the walls were scribbled “Number 9…..Number 9.”  As aides puzzled over the cryptic words, Paterson explained.

“Spitzer was a huge John Lennon fan.”

Outside the bunker the enemy drew closer.  Press camped out on the front lawn and news helicopters buzzed overhead.  Reporters, first hesitantly, then in increasing numbers walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

“Damn vultures” the Governor exclaimed as he gathered his loyalists together.  “My time is done.  The enemy has triumphed.”  He then showed them a secret exit where they could escape.

“Run.  Try to get to someplace where they can’t find you. Argentina or New Jersey preferably.”

Paterson called for State Police Superintendent Harry Corbitt to pass out ammunition and guns for those who wished to commit suicide.

“He resigned?  Traitor!”

Senator Kirsten Gillibrand, chosen by Governor Paterson to finish Hillary Clinton’s term urged him to resign before leaving through the secret tunnel.

“Et tu Brute?  Go on.  Get out!”

Wanting to postpone the inevitable moment of resignation as much as possible, Paterson barricaded the door with a pile of black socks left behind by Eliot Spitzer.

“I knew these would come in handy one day.”

Their was a noise as the front door of the mansion was forced open.  Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver raced through the corridors, looking for the Governor.

“He has to resign. For the good of me, um, I mean for the good of the people of New York he has to do it.”

Sensing the end was near, Paterson grabbed a telephone and started dialing victims of domestic violence.

“You don’t want to press charges.  How’d you like one of my state troopers to pay you a visit?  Kapish?”

The basement bunker was now deserted except for the Governor and his wife.  Paterson started to pull his teeth out.

“It’s so the damn Russians can’t identify my body” he told his wife.  “Now I want you to shoot me in the head and set my body on fire.”

“Is this some sort of role play?” she asked.  “Because you know I love role play.”

The door to the basement burst open and in walked a completely naked Eliot Spitzer.

“Sorry to intrude but I’m out of black socks.  Can I borrow some?  Oh, and can you lend me $3,000 dollars.  Client number eight just left and I’m next.”

Paterson smiled, then broke out laughing.

“I wonder if Jamie Foxx will play me in the TV movie” he said.

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