July 4
Meanwhile, at Catoctin Mountain Park near Thurmont, Potus and the First Lady relaxed next to the pool. Potus lay on the pool recliner in a tight blue Speedo with his arms behind his head. His sunglasses glinted in the sun.
Potus sighed contented. "Do you know," he said, "that Dwight Eisenhower, number 34 named this place?"
"Yes, dear," said the First Lady as she sunned herself.
"Dwight. Such a patriot. From our homeland of Kansas, no less. This is the home on the range away from the range."
"Yes dear," said the First Lady.
"I feel like such a patriot, laying here in the sun in the summer heat, celebrating the birth of our dear nation."
The First Lady was silent.
"Ah, patriotism," sighed Potus.
The surface of the Nixon pool reflected the blue Maryland sky above.
"The sky is not as big here as it is on the range, of course," noted Potus.
"Yes dear," said the First Lady.
"All of the states combined probably could not approach the patriotism of the Kansas state all by itself," said Potus.
"What about Wyoming?" asked the First Lady.
"Wyoming is patriotic," Potus allowed.
A white tuxedoed butler appeared with a tray. "Madam, Sir," said the waiter. "Would you care for some refreshments?"
"Yes, please," said the First Lady.
"What's in it?" asked Potus, suspicious.
"Your favourite, sir, Yoohoo and carrot juice with a splash of Red Rooster," said the waiter.
"Wonderful," said Potus, sitting up and rubbing his hands with glee.
"Plenty of potassium for my big Potus boy," said the First Lady.
"Sparkling Cider for the lady President," said the waiter.
After they had taken their drinks from the waiter, he held the tray behind his back and announced, "I am to remind you that you are requested to join us for lunch with the Prime Minister of England and then go on a tour of the facilities together."
"What's for lunch," asked Potus, still suspicious.
"Sir, the chef has prepared _des chiens chaudes avec ketchup et moutard_ as you requested."
"Yes, chop chop," said Potus mockingly.
The First Lady made a disapproving noise. "Thank you, butler, that is all." She turned to Potus. "How rude you are," she chided him.
Potus made a face. "What? I didn't want to bring the prime minister here. This is the most patriotic day of the American calendar and we'll have to pretend not to enjoy ourselves so that it won't see like we're gloating over the whole revolution thing."
"You're making too big a deal of nothing," said the First Lady. "What would David Dwight do?" she asked.
"Number 34 would grab his woman like this," Potus said, grabbing the First Lady's ample handles.
"Oh, Dwight," the First Lady shrieked, nearly spilling her drink.
"I've got you now, Mamie," said Dwight, affecting his best 1930's Eisenhower accent.
"Dwight," said Mamie in the best accent she could manage, "Why don't we retire to the boudoir once again? I've brought my equipment with me."
"Not again," said Dwight, rubbing his wrists.
Meanwhile, at Catoctin Mountain Park near Thurmont, Potus and the First Lady relaxed next to the pool. Potus lay on the pool recliner in a tight blue Speedo with his arms behind his head. His sunglasses glinted in the sun.
Potus sighed contented. "Do you know," he said, "that Dwight Eisenhower, number 34 named this place?"
"Yes, dear," said the First Lady as she sunned herself.
"Dwight. Such a patriot. From our homeland of Kansas, no less. This is the home on the range away from the range."
"Yes dear," said the First Lady.
"I feel like such a patriot, laying here in the sun in the summer heat, celebrating the birth of our dear nation."
The First Lady was silent.
"Ah, patriotism," sighed Potus.
The surface of the Nixon pool reflected the blue Maryland sky above.
"The sky is not as big here as it is on the range, of course," noted Potus.
"Yes dear," said the First Lady.
"All of the states combined probably could not approach the patriotism of the Kansas state all by itself," said Potus.
"What about Wyoming?" asked the First Lady.
"Wyoming is patriotic," Potus allowed.
A white tuxedoed butler appeared with a tray. "Madam, Sir," said the waiter. "Would you care for some refreshments?"
"Yes, please," said the First Lady.
"What's in it?" asked Potus, suspicious.
"Your favourite, sir, Yoohoo and carrot juice with a splash of Red Rooster," said the waiter.
"Wonderful," said Potus, sitting up and rubbing his hands with glee.
"Plenty of potassium for my big Potus boy," said the First Lady.
"Sparkling Cider for the lady President," said the waiter.
After they had taken their drinks from the waiter, he held the tray behind his back and announced, "I am to remind you that you are requested to join us for lunch with the Prime Minister of England and then go on a tour of the facilities together."
"What's for lunch," asked Potus, still suspicious.
"Sir, the chef has prepared _des chiens chaudes avec ketchup et moutard_ as you requested."
"Yes, chop chop," said Potus mockingly.
The First Lady made a disapproving noise. "Thank you, butler, that is all." She turned to Potus. "How rude you are," she chided him.
Potus made a face. "What? I didn't want to bring the prime minister here. This is the most patriotic day of the American calendar and we'll have to pretend not to enjoy ourselves so that it won't see like we're gloating over the whole revolution thing."
"You're making too big a deal of nothing," said the First Lady. "What would David Dwight do?" she asked.
"Number 34 would grab his woman like this," Potus said, grabbing the First Lady's ample handles.
"Oh, Dwight," the First Lady shrieked, nearly spilling her drink.
"I've got you now, Mamie," said Dwight, affecting his best 1930's Eisenhower accent.
"Dwight," said Mamie in the best accent she could manage, "Why don't we retire to the boudoir once again? I've brought my equipment with me."
"Not again," said Dwight, rubbing his wrists.
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