Potus 2/14, part III

Potus said, “Ok, what’s next?”

CoS stopped polishing his glasses and put the back on.  He looked at his agenda list.  “Well, Sir, as you seem opposed to meeting with anybody, I’ll just go down the list and you tell me which groups you’d like to meet.”  CoS looked over the top of his glasses disapprovingly.  “OK?”

Potus nodded vigorously and leaned forward, clasping his hands together happily.

CoS took a breath and read from the list.  “Farmers’ League of Immigrant Union Labourers?”

Potus sat still.  CoS shook his head and again scanned Potus’ face over the top of his glasses.  CoS shook his head slowly and continued, “Detroit Autoworkers’ Local 743?”  CoS waited again.  Potus sat still, leaning forward clasping his hands.  “Iowa Farmers’ Collective of Bushel Crops?”  CoS waited, stared over the top of his glasses and continued.  “Idaho Potatoes and Spuds Growers’ Family-Operators?  Arkansas Legal Defence Lawyers’ Union?  Better Business Americans’ Federation for the Advancement of Capitalism?”  CoS paused again.

Potus waved his hand in a rolling “go on” motion and clasped them again.

“Floridian Retirees’ and Pensioners’ Medical Benefits Protection Group?  Deepwater Drillers’ Conglomerates?  Amnesty International?  People for the Advancement and Defence of Children’s Protection Amalgam?”

Potus waved his hand in a “no no no” motion in front of his face.  CoS sighed and put down his agenda.  I suppose that is all I have.  I’ll just assume you don’t want to meet these groups.”

Potus nodded and rubbed his hands together with glee.  “OK!  Now we are making progress!  I feel progress being made at this moment!  Who’s next?”

Secretary of Defence cleared his throat and raised one hand.  “Sir, I’m next on the agenda.  If you’ll allow me to go through my agenda items one by one and we’ll update you on the status of the nation.”

Everyone nodded around the table.

He continued, “As you know, the threat levels are still very high in America and abroad.  The situation in Iran is dire, and Syria has still not stabilised.  We have made some headway in our operations in Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and other Stans.  The situation in the Gulf of Arabia is under our control and peaceful and we...”

Potus interrupted.  “That’s all fine and well.  I am not interested in the Stans.  They’re nice people,” and here there were chuckles, “but I wouldn’t want to visit them.  The Gulf of Arabia isn’t the right name is it?  Won’t the Jews be upset?”

SoD cleared his throat and said, “Well, yes, perhaps.  I think it’s the Gulf of Oman but many people...”

“Oman!”

“Yes Sir.”

“Oh, man!”

“Uh...”

“No, seriously.  Oman?  Where is that?  I thought it was the Persian Gulf?  I hate Persian food myself, but whatever.  I think people know it as the Persian Gulf.”

“Well...”

“Someone get a map!”

There was a general commotion of people turning in their chairs and talking to advisors.  Several interns left the room through the huge oak doors.

Potus continued, rubbing his hands with glee.  “Now we’re crackin’!  We got some action!  We’re looking for information that is important.”

Someone with an iPad spoke up.  “Sir, I looked on Google Maps and it’s listed as the Gulf of Oman.  Oman is at the southern, the uh, southeastern edge of the Saudi Arabian Peninsula.”

Potus looked disappointed.  “Well, that’s no fun.  I think Persian is a funny word.  Like the cat.”

Everyone sat quietly for a few seconds, pondering this information.  An intern burst into the room through the large doors, breathless.  He was carrying several large Atlases and bundles of rolled paper.  He spread them out on one end of the table, breathless from the exertion.  Potus waved his hand dismissively and some activity took place at the end of the table to gather the paper and books to be removed.

Potus said, “Whatever, what’s next?”