Sanford and Sin: La Telenovela De Mark, Jenny y Maria

South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford is in a tough spot. He  just spent the past week fucking and crying with a presumably beautiful flor de Argentina. In many circumstances, this liaison would be a dream come true: Mark and Maria engaged in a storybook week of passion and lust. The key distinction in this particular instance of realidad however is that the story of Mark and Maria took place in Argentina and not Sherwood Forest. Their star crossed rendezvous is a piercing and sultry telenovela and it’s juicy like a mango. Let’s have a look.

INT. GOVERNOR’S MANSION, COLUMBIA, SOUTH CAROLINA - EVENING.

Mark: Jenny, I got something to say. I don’t love you no more.

Jenny: Oh Mark, you lying sackashit, I know you love me, you just got messed up with that devil whore Maria and your mind isn’t right.

Mark: Maybe I did. You don’t know me Jenny. You ain’t never known me. But I’m trying to come clean, I’m trying to be honest with you.

Jenny: Oh Mark, I’ve had enough of your weebly wobbly justifications of everything. You’re just a politician swine and you’ve never admitted to anything in your life! Get out of my house! I gotta stay dignified for my children, but if you continue to work toward reconciliation with a true spirit of humility and repentance, I might think about taking you back.

Mark: Alright Jenny, you tell them boys that I’ll be back and I’ll make it all better sometime soon.

Jenny: (cackles) Fuck THAT! I’ma gonna tell em that you’re naked hiking in Appalachia and writing a manifesto or fucking coyotes.

Mark: (sigh) Fine. I’m out this bitch. Adios.

EXT. CARLOS THAYS BOTANICAL GARDENS, BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINA

Mark: She even called you a devil whore.

Maria: Una puta diabla?!  Dios mio, after what she’s put you through. Let’s drink some wine, eat some steaks and fuck all night until we fall asleep crying into each other’s arms.

Mark: To me, and I suspect no one else on earth, there is something wonderful about eating steaks and fucking our brains out dear Maria. I shall cherish the tranquility that comes with being in the virtual wilderness of the trees and marsh of your vagina.

INT. SULTRY BEDROOM - MORNING.

A CELL PHONE PLAYS THE SONG, “I WISH I WAS IN DIXIE.”

Mark: (waking up, reaches for phone) Uhh…hello?

Lt. Governor André Bauer: Um, hello. Mr. Governor, this is André. Uhhh…where are you?

Mark: André, umm, why do you ask?

André: Because the whole fucking country is shitting their pants cause you’re missing!!!

Mark: Seriously? Uhhh…okok. I’ll get on a plane. I’ve just been crying for five days.

André: Did you write a manifesto?

Mark: No. No, André I didn’t. I made sweet gorgeous love to a woman that’s been ripping my soul apart and taking my body on a journey.

André: Oh, oh, ok sweet. Well, you better figure your shit out on the plane. You def got some splainin to do.

INT. PRESS CONFERENCE - DAY.
And you know the rest. Was it love, lust, unfettered desire or baseless provcation? We may never know. We probably shouldn’t give a fuck. It’s other people’s lives and we gotta let them live it. It’s funny though that the next chapter of Fuego En La Sangre could be based on a true story.