"They are a bit snug," said Potus.
Shaniqua turned around. "Those are mine," she said.
"Oh," said Potus, looking down. "My cheeks are a bit cold, that could explain things." Potus cupped his hands to cover up any dangling bits and turned to walk back to the house.
Potus waited for Shaniqua to open the door and she nodded as he walked by. A young secret service agent just inside the door stood up from his stool at attention and said, "Sir!"
"At ease," said Potus.
They continued down a hallway and turned left to go to a situation room. Potus stood before a door marked "SECURE" and waited patiently for Shaniqua to open the door.
"Hello CIA directory," Potus said to one of the men inside the conference room.
"Hello Sir," said the CIA director trying not to laugh. He stood up and extended his arm to shake the President's.
They stood uncomfortably like that for a while until one of the other seated men spoke up.
"Sit down, Sir," said a large man.
Potus sat and asked, "Who are you?"
"I'm from the NSA," the man replied. He motioned to the screen at one end of the room. A projected image of the Presidential seal appeared. "I have some interesting photos to show you, then we must discuss what to do next."
"Ok," said Potus, crossing his legs and rubbing his hands together to warm them.
"This first photograph is an apparent orgy with the First Lady, yourself, the Hopi Chief, your Chief of Staff and the U.N. Ambassador," he narrated.
"Those are hotdogs. They're very American," Potus replied.
"This next photograph is you and your security detail snorting cocaine," said the NSA agent.
"That's merely ancestor ashes. Nothing wrong with that. Perfectly harmless," said Potus.
The large man peered at his notepad. "It says here that it was described as 'Ancestor Clay'."
"Yes, same thing. Nothing abnormal about that," said Potus.
"Here we have a photograph of you drinking an unknown liquid from a leather bag," said the large man.
"Oh no, that's just spirit juice. Just juice. From spirits," said Potus.
"Why does it have to be juice?" asked the large man. "I have 'liquid' in my notes."
"Liquid sounds suspicious, juice is very wholesome," said Potus.
"I see. On the next picture, we see you and your security detail and Cabinet eating Indian dope," said the large man.
"Oh, no," cried Potus. "That Indian gave us marajuana?"
"No, Sir, Indian dope, or cactus crumbs, are peyote," said the large man from the NSA.
"Oh, that's bad too." said Potus. "He called it vision bisuits. Or cookies. I can't remember."
"Yes, Sir," said the large man.
"And the spirit juice was Anhalonium," said Potus.
"That's mescaline," said the man. "I looked it up."
"That was good shit," said Potus.
"I bet it was," said the man. "Now let's discuss who's responsible. Clearly, your security detail was negligent."
"Oh, no, no no," said Potus. "Johnson was only following orders. I ordered him to test the safety of all the psychoactive compounds for me."
The man raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, Johnson is not to blame for this. He was keeping me safe, as his union contract and the Secret Service charter requires."
"Let's talk about sexual harassment," said Shaniqua abruptly.
"Oh, you're still sore about that?" asked Potus turning to face her.
"Uh huh," affirmed Shaniqua.
"We can take care of that pretty quickly if you'd like. Last time I asked you didn't want to," said Potus.
The man raised his one eyebrow even more.
"I'm threatening you, stupid," said Shaniqua.
"Oh, well, in that case, I deny it," said Potus. He turned to the large man from the NSA. "I deny all of it emphatically," he repeated.
"Let's see the rest of the pictures, shall we?" asked the man. "These pictures show a bunch of white idiots trying to dance in various states of undress," he said. Several photographs slid by in sequence.
"Ghost dance. Perfectly reasonable," said Potus. "Drives away the evil spirits. I mean, germs."
"This photograph shows the, um, Chief of Staff making out with the U.N. Ambassador," said the man.
"That's not very professional," said Potus.
"This picture shows the U.N. Ambasasdor undressed and she's not, um, a, um, she," said the man.
Potus screwed up his face.
"And this picture shows the Chief of Staff... and her, him I mean..."
Potus shouted out, "I knew he was gay!"
The man from the NSA cleared his throat loudly. "Here's a photograph of your security detail extending his weapon and firing at the Hopi Chief," the man said.
"Cowboys and Indians," mumbled Potus. "Speaking of whom, where is the Indian Chief now?" he asked.
"He's in detention in a safe location," said the man. "This photograph shows you swinging a lighted stick of 25 marshmallows like a light sabre," he said.
"That's normal. Just good American, boyscout fun," Potus agreed.
"Here's a picture of the British Prime minister being burned alive inside his gin-soaked blanket," said the man from the NSA.
Potus covered his mouth in shock. "That wasn't me, I can assure you," he said finally.
The CIA director pointed at the screen. "Let me reassure you, Sir," he said. "We support the United States and the Office of the President with full confidence. We will not allow this information to leak out. You were merely re-enacting the great revolution of 1776 in a drugged out murderous rampage."
Potus pointed at the screen as well. "Let me assure you, fine sir who reports to me. I did not have anything to do with an assassination. In fact, I think it was probably you or your secret skunk works projects that perpetrated this great crime against our former Imperialists."
"Gentlemen," said the man from the NSA. "This will not reflect well on our country or our leaders. No, we must find a more suitable candidate."
Shaniqua turned around. "Those are mine," she said.
"Oh," said Potus, looking down. "My cheeks are a bit cold, that could explain things." Potus cupped his hands to cover up any dangling bits and turned to walk back to the house.
Potus waited for Shaniqua to open the door and she nodded as he walked by. A young secret service agent just inside the door stood up from his stool at attention and said, "Sir!"
"At ease," said Potus.
They continued down a hallway and turned left to go to a situation room. Potus stood before a door marked "SECURE" and waited patiently for Shaniqua to open the door.
"Hello CIA directory," Potus said to one of the men inside the conference room.
"Hello Sir," said the CIA director trying not to laugh. He stood up and extended his arm to shake the President's.
They stood uncomfortably like that for a while until one of the other seated men spoke up.
"Sit down, Sir," said a large man.
Potus sat and asked, "Who are you?"
"I'm from the NSA," the man replied. He motioned to the screen at one end of the room. A projected image of the Presidential seal appeared. "I have some interesting photos to show you, then we must discuss what to do next."
"Ok," said Potus, crossing his legs and rubbing his hands together to warm them.
"This first photograph is an apparent orgy with the First Lady, yourself, the Hopi Chief, your Chief of Staff and the U.N. Ambassador," he narrated.
"Those are hotdogs. They're very American," Potus replied.
"This next photograph is you and your security detail snorting cocaine," said the NSA agent.
"That's merely ancestor ashes. Nothing wrong with that. Perfectly harmless," said Potus.
The large man peered at his notepad. "It says here that it was described as 'Ancestor Clay'."
"Yes, same thing. Nothing abnormal about that," said Potus.
"Here we have a photograph of you drinking an unknown liquid from a leather bag," said the large man.
"Oh no, that's just spirit juice. Just juice. From spirits," said Potus.
"Why does it have to be juice?" asked the large man. "I have 'liquid' in my notes."
"Liquid sounds suspicious, juice is very wholesome," said Potus.
"I see. On the next picture, we see you and your security detail and Cabinet eating Indian dope," said the large man.
"Oh, no," cried Potus. "That Indian gave us marajuana?"
"No, Sir, Indian dope, or cactus crumbs, are peyote," said the large man from the NSA.
"Oh, that's bad too." said Potus. "He called it vision bisuits. Or cookies. I can't remember."
"Yes, Sir," said the large man.
"And the spirit juice was Anhalonium," said Potus.
"That's mescaline," said the man. "I looked it up."
"That was good shit," said Potus.
"I bet it was," said the man. "Now let's discuss who's responsible. Clearly, your security detail was negligent."
"Oh, no, no no," said Potus. "Johnson was only following orders. I ordered him to test the safety of all the psychoactive compounds for me."
The man raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, Johnson is not to blame for this. He was keeping me safe, as his union contract and the Secret Service charter requires."
"Let's talk about sexual harassment," said Shaniqua abruptly.
"Oh, you're still sore about that?" asked Potus turning to face her.
"Uh huh," affirmed Shaniqua.
"We can take care of that pretty quickly if you'd like. Last time I asked you didn't want to," said Potus.
The man raised his one eyebrow even more.
"I'm threatening you, stupid," said Shaniqua.
"Oh, well, in that case, I deny it," said Potus. He turned to the large man from the NSA. "I deny all of it emphatically," he repeated.
"Let's see the rest of the pictures, shall we?" asked the man. "These pictures show a bunch of white idiots trying to dance in various states of undress," he said. Several photographs slid by in sequence.
"Ghost dance. Perfectly reasonable," said Potus. "Drives away the evil spirits. I mean, germs."
"This photograph shows the, um, Chief of Staff making out with the U.N. Ambassador," said the man.
"That's not very professional," said Potus.
"This picture shows the U.N. Ambasasdor undressed and she's not, um, a, um, she," said the man.
Potus screwed up his face.
"And this picture shows the Chief of Staff... and her, him I mean..."
Potus shouted out, "I knew he was gay!"
The man from the NSA cleared his throat loudly. "Here's a photograph of your security detail extending his weapon and firing at the Hopi Chief," the man said.
"Cowboys and Indians," mumbled Potus. "Speaking of whom, where is the Indian Chief now?" he asked.
"He's in detention in a safe location," said the man. "This photograph shows you swinging a lighted stick of 25 marshmallows like a light sabre," he said.
"That's normal. Just good American, boyscout fun," Potus agreed.
"Here's a picture of the British Prime minister being burned alive inside his gin-soaked blanket," said the man from the NSA.
Potus covered his mouth in shock. "That wasn't me, I can assure you," he said finally.
The CIA director pointed at the screen. "Let me reassure you, Sir," he said. "We support the United States and the Office of the President with full confidence. We will not allow this information to leak out. You were merely re-enacting the great revolution of 1776 in a drugged out murderous rampage."
Potus pointed at the screen as well. "Let me assure you, fine sir who reports to me. I did not have anything to do with an assassination. In fact, I think it was probably you or your secret skunk works projects that perpetrated this great crime against our former Imperialists."
"Gentlemen," said the man from the NSA. "This will not reflect well on our country or our leaders. No, we must find a more suitable candidate."
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