"We'll just bring them in randomly, just let whoever's next say what they have to say."
"Sir, yes, Sir, I am waiting to speak," said a press reporter from the middle row with an accent.
Potus pointed at the young man. "You, raccoon guy with the accent."
Raccoon guy tried to speak above the clamour. "Yes thanks to you. I am Chathuranga Wallaheller Srinivasiani from the Sri Lankan Daily Dinamina and I am pleased to ask you a question."
"Yes, go ahead. Quiet down!" Potus yelled at the other reporters. "Wally Something wants to speak."
"Chathuranga Wallaheller..." Wally began.
"Yes, yes," waved Potus. "Charlie So-and-So."
"You may call me by Frank," Charlie said.
"There's a great American name, Frank. Wonderful, go ahead, Frank."
"Thank you for the wonderful honour, Mr. President of the United States. I am pleased to ask about a topic of concern to the Sri Lankan peoples from my country. We also have a problem since more than 20 years regarding terrorism and the Tamil Tigers have caused..."
Potus rudely interrupted. "Tigers on television, huh? Is that a football team? I mean, not your foreigner soccer ball game. I'm talking about the American version on TV."
Frank seemed flustered. "No sir, surely you are mistaken..."
Potus raised his hand in a victorious fist pump. "Go Tigers, eh? I prefer the Chiefs obviously. You being Indian and all..."
Frank was furious. In one swift motion, Frank removed his shoe and flung it at the President. Potus, stunned, raised his hands to shield hiss face and caught the shoe. Johnson, trying to protect Potus too late, flew past him and knocked down the front row of reporters.
In the resulting confusion, Potus flung the shoe back at Frank. Frank ducked deftly and hopped on one foot to take off his other shoe for another shot. He was tackled by the Secret Service agents behind him. Two agents in the front grabbed Potus about the middle and carried or pushed him out of the press conference room.
Outside in the hallway, Potus resisted. "Let me at him, let me go!"
The agents restrained Potus. Johnson came into the hallway disheveled. He spoke rapidly as he approached. "Sir, there's been an incident and we need to take you to a safe location."
Potus agreed and walked ahead of the agents down the hallway. He turned to talk to Johnson as they walked.
"That was some dive you took," Potus said. "Where did you learn that one?"
"Varsity volleyball, Sir," said Johnson.
"Sir, yes, Sir, I am waiting to speak," said a press reporter from the middle row with an accent.
Potus pointed at the young man. "You, raccoon guy with the accent."
Raccoon guy tried to speak above the clamour. "Yes thanks to you. I am Chathuranga Wallaheller Srinivasiani from the Sri Lankan Daily Dinamina and I am pleased to ask you a question."
"Yes, go ahead. Quiet down!" Potus yelled at the other reporters. "Wally Something wants to speak."
"Chathuranga Wallaheller..." Wally began.
"Yes, yes," waved Potus. "Charlie So-and-So."
"You may call me by Frank," Charlie said.
"There's a great American name, Frank. Wonderful, go ahead, Frank."
"Thank you for the wonderful honour, Mr. President of the United States. I am pleased to ask about a topic of concern to the Sri Lankan peoples from my country. We also have a problem since more than 20 years regarding terrorism and the Tamil Tigers have caused..."
Potus rudely interrupted. "Tigers on television, huh? Is that a football team? I mean, not your foreigner soccer ball game. I'm talking about the American version on TV."
Frank seemed flustered. "No sir, surely you are mistaken..."
Potus raised his hand in a victorious fist pump. "Go Tigers, eh? I prefer the Chiefs obviously. You being Indian and all..."
Frank was furious. In one swift motion, Frank removed his shoe and flung it at the President. Potus, stunned, raised his hands to shield hiss face and caught the shoe. Johnson, trying to protect Potus too late, flew past him and knocked down the front row of reporters.
In the resulting confusion, Potus flung the shoe back at Frank. Frank ducked deftly and hopped on one foot to take off his other shoe for another shot. He was tackled by the Secret Service agents behind him. Two agents in the front grabbed Potus about the middle and carried or pushed him out of the press conference room.
Outside in the hallway, Potus resisted. "Let me at him, let me go!"
The agents restrained Potus. Johnson came into the hallway disheveled. He spoke rapidly as he approached. "Sir, there's been an incident and we need to take you to a safe location."
Potus agreed and walked ahead of the agents down the hallway. He turned to talk to Johnson as they walked.
"That was some dive you took," Potus said. "Where did you learn that one?"
"Varsity volleyball, Sir," said Johnson.
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