Sentence First Verdict Afterwards, Uncommon Nonsense
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House of Cards Season 3: Deleted Scenes

I just finished House of Cards S3. I loved most of it and, like everyone else I know, found the Claire/Frank sex scene to be vaguely maternal, thus deeply upsetting. I am however utterly infuriated by the way it ended.
Claire ‘I am as svelte and crisp as a sheet of plain white A4 paper and equally capable of cutting you the f*** up’ Underwood, reduced to a woman made bitter and anxious by leaping before she looked?
No.
Inspired by this, here is the Episode 13 Claire deserved.

****THE ENTIRE PREMISE OF THIS BLOG POST IS A SPOILER. DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE SPOILERS. AND IF YOU DO READ IT ANYWAY, DON’T WHINE ABOUT THE FACT THAT THE ENTIRE PREMISE OF THIS BLOG POST IS A SPOILER. YOU ARE BETTER THAN THAT. BE AN ADULT FOR GOD’S SAKE. HAVE SOME SELF RESPECT. AND ALSO EAT YOUR VEGETABLES AND PAY YOUR TAXES.****

* A bedroom in  the Residence of the White House, An aide has woken President Frank Underwood from a fractured and troubled sleep with the news that the First Lady is back. Frank hurriedly shrugs himself into a plush robe and races out into the hallway, where a single shaft of light illuminates the perfect figure of Claire Underwood. She is wearing all white and a snow leopard sits calmly at her feet.*
Claire: Francis. I lied.
Frank: Oh thank God. Thank God. You’re not leaving me?
Claire: Oh, I am. I’m absolutely leaving you. I just lied about why.
Frank: Well if you’re not staying, the why doesn’t much matter now, does it?

*to the camera* I cannot believe that I am going to be the first President in American history to have his victory marred by divorce…and I didn’t even cheat on her with an intern!

Claire: Francis? Whenever you speak to the camera, I can hear you.
Frank: …..
Claire: Yes. It has been very awkward for me.
Frank: I must confess, I did not know that.
Claire: Let’s move on. You just said you never cheated on me. We’ve been lying to each other for a long time Francis. Let’s not pretending that you weren’t secretly having mind secks with, and dirty literary fantasies about, that guy from Boardwalk Empire you hired to write your biography.
Frank: Don’t be-
Claire: It’s alright, really. I’m not jealous. Besides, I like Boardwalk Empire. Nucky and I would have been unstoppable. More importantly, your mental infidelity was a godsend. I was relieved.
Frank: Relieved?!
Claire: Yes, Francis. Relieved. You are a fairly good actor, and the way you screw with people delights my icy, calculating heart, but honestly you’re a bit flabby around the middle and with menopause coming…let’s just say I couldn’t stand the sight of you naked without wanting to vomit up the food I never eat but dream about constantly.
Frank: I think I need a cigarette. Where are they?
Claire: I’ve hidden them under the rug in the Oval Office, right next to your latent homosexuality and the ghosts of my unborn, much mourned, children.
*they walk to the Oval Office, Frank lifts up the rug*
Frank: Oh, I see them. Want one?
Claire: Thanks.

*they both smoke companionably for a few minutes, conspicuously ignoring the fact that rather than sharing one cigarette as is their custom, Claire is sharing hers with her snow leopard*

Frank: Relieved?
Claire: Francis…
Frank: Relieved?! I find your spite to be tedious, Claire.
Claire: Well that seems fair. I find your ability to be tedious incredibly spiteful. We’re even.
Frank: Is this about that photographer?
Claire: Kind of. He had a really nice loft.
Frank: Um, Claire. In case you hadn’t noticed, we literally live in the White House.
Claire: I know that Francis.
Frank: And most people would say-
Claire: Francis-
Frank: -most, if not all people would say that-
Claire: Francis-
Frank: -that the White House is a significantly better place to live than in a crummy, used-to-be-a-sweatshop-
Claire: Francis-
Frank: – exposed brick loft owned by a poncy, I-enjoy-providing-oral-secks-way-too-much asshole, with a chiseled jaw, tight abs, piercing  eyes-
Claire: Francis. If you don’t stop speaking, my snow leopard will eat you.
Frank: Okay.
Claire: Anyway,  I have a thing for lofts.
Frank: I never knew that.
Claire: I know you never knew that.
Frank: So what do we do now?
Claire: I still leave you, then go off and find a man of equally devastating sexiness and aloofness to have much better secks with. In a few months, you will be impeached for  having secks with Meecham in the Rose Garden-
Francis: I don’t think that’s an impeachable offence actually but-
Claire:…then me and my Secks God/Ice King lover marry, I campaign on my own, win the Presidency, add on a loft addition to the White House, and make breaking the fourth wall illegal
Frank: That doesn’t seem like it ends very well for me.
Claire: I don’t want to lie to you Francis. It doesn’t.
Frank: Can we still be friends?
 
Claire: Of course we can, Francis. You can even come over occasionally to use the rowing machine. But you will have to call first and you can never ever bring Doug.
Frank: Yeah. Doug is a bit of an odd duck. I mean, a wooden spoon?!
Claire: I was very disturbed by the wooden spoon.
Frank: That wooden spoon was totally bonkers.
Claire: Totally.
Frank: Totally. Okay, what about Remy Danton?
Claire: Remy’s cool people. And he can wear the hell out of a suit. He can come.

*Frank nods slowly, then knocks twice on the table*

**fade to black**

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