They boarded Marine One and she lifted from the ground and flew away. The Chief of Staff and the U.N. Ambassador sat on the grass together, arms around eacho other's waists and watched the magnificent bird take off.
"What will he do?" asked the U.N. Ambassador with a husky voice.
"What he always does," said the the Chief of Staff. "He'll save the world and curse his way through a press conference."
"Genius," said the U.N. Ambassador.
July 6
Meanwhile in the press briefing room, Potus was introduced to the domestic and foreign press by the Press Secretary.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the press," the Press Secretary began, "we have called this emergency meeting to provide some information on the recent events at Camp David while the President was on vacation there celebrating the holiday. He'll give a brief speech and then we'll take questions and answer as many as we can. We've chosen the order of the questions based on a random draw. You've been assigned your order numbers before you got here. Please hold your applause and questions until the end, thank you."
Potus stepped forward, smoothed out his papers on the dais.
"Dear my fellow Americans," Potus said and someone guffawed in the right front of the press room. "Goddamn it," Potus said. "I hate whoever keeps putting that in my speeches. Don't think I won't find out who it is."
Someone on the left back side of the room giggled uncomfortably. Potus jerked his head. "Was that you?" he snapped.
The silence in the close room was punctuated by coughs clicking camera flashes and pens scratching on paper.
"I'm going to find you and kick your ass," Potus said finally. The Chief of Staff walked to the President's side and whispered in his ear. Then he handed Potus a new set of papers and took the others away. Potus smoothed out his sheets of paper.
"Dear my fellow world citizens, goddman it to hell motherfuckers," Potus said. He threw the sheets of paper behind him. There was a great deal of laughter in the press room. "All right, very funy, very funny," he said. "No more laughter, this is a serious topic."
The room quieted down after a while. Potus continued, "As you have heard from the unsubstantiated rumours, I regret to say that our beloved friend and ally, the British Prime Minister has died." Gasps and the clicks of cameras were heard around the room. "The British Prime Minister, God save his soul, was taken into our Lord's arms near my Presidential retreat by a carefully orchestrated attack by unknown parties."
"Mr. President," said someone from the front of the room.
Potus waved his hands and ignored the reporter. "Approximately 10:30pm Eastern Daylight Savings time, an unknown assailant was seen throwing a firebomb at the Prime Minister and he perished in flaming death. His security detail and our special forces were unable to prevent the attack because he had been intoxicated with a variety of over-the-counter cold medicines."
"Mr. President," sang out a chorus of reporters. Potus ignored them.
"I personally called the Queen, God save her, as soon as I learned of the incident very early on the next morning. She was bitterly grieved and expressed great anguish over this fine gentleman's death. They'll likely make a saint out of him, God bless him. I," here Potus' voice cracked and everyone who witnessed the speech agreed it was genuine and heartfelt, "I believe that he defeneded himself valiantly and we should all take a moment of silence for this hero."
"Mr. President, Mr. President," yelled the reporters as the cameras clicked.
"Shut the fuck up," Potus demanded. "A moment of fucking silence, dickheads."
The room was silent for a few moments.
Potus said, "Now, I'll take some questions. Who was first?"
A reporter in the middle row raised his hand and cleared his voice. "Sir, there are reports coming out of the coroner's office that state the British Prime Minister may have been burned to death with some accelerant, like alcohol. A contact inside the office said that he was also wrapped in some kind of 'kindling', his words, and also that a very flamable material that was sticky and black was found covering part of his ashes. What do you say about those statements?"
"The coroner does not have a lot of good information and that information should not have been leaked in any case. I believe that it just shows how crafty and vicious these Mossad agents are and how well prepared they were to execute such a crime against humanity and democracy. You, there," said Potus, calling the next reporter. There was a loud stirring and murmer among the reporters.
"Sir, you mentioned the Mossad just now, are you implying," the reporter started but Potus interrupted him.
"I said no such thing," said Potus. "I'm sure what I said was an accident. We are not saying the Israeli special forces had anything to do with this. That is pure speculation and we won't address the issue until all the facts are out. I think I was saying something about the mustard agents, like some kind of gas used in World War Two. Next question," Potus said. He winked at the Chief of Staff who gave Potus the "thumbs up" sign.
"Sir," said a reporter from the back row. "There are further reports from some of the other guests in attendance at your fireworks show that there was some sort of strange drug-filled ritual involving hallucinogens and dancing and orgies."
Potus was annoyed. "I don't know how you can make those stories up. There was no dancing, or maybe a little bit. Speaking of fireworks, we're still investigating if this was merely a horrible tragedy with the fireworks. Maybe some embers fell on the Prime Minister and this is all some sort of freak accident. I'll have my people on that," Potus said turning to his staff and gesturing frantically. The Chief of Staff nodded and started scribbling in his notepad. The Press Secretary began typing into his phone.
The next reporter jostled for attention and was able to wrestle control of a microphone. "Sir, some tabloid reporters near the scene were said to snap photographs that were subsequently stolen from their cameras by men who drove black silent vans and wore black suits with dark sunglasses at midnight. Were these agents federal men and will the government release this information to the public?"
"No," said Potus.
There was a long pause while cameras whirred and clicked.
"Sir?" asked the reporter.
"I said, 'no'," said Potus. "Next question."
"Sir, the First and Fourth Amendments to the Constitution," began the reporter.
"No, don't give me that Constitutional bullshit," interrupted Potus. "The federal government has jurisdiction over the grounds at Camp David where I perform my private rest after all my great and tiring service to this nation. My men may or may not have seized valuable evidence that will help solve this case and that evidence will likely never see the light of day. Those reporters are lucky to be alive. I was about to authorise a mind-wipe on the tabloid muckrackers but have decided against it. It is better for the nation that we don't resort to such drastic measures on our citizens."
"Mr. President," said the next reporter above the hubbub. "I'd like to address the reports of drug use once agian. I have similar sources who say that there was a lot of illegal substances consumed and that they were dispensed by a Native American-Indian shaman who is currently missing. His wife and children have been trying to find him. They have signed affadavits that he was visiting your compound at Camp David and hasn't been seen since."
"Shows what you know," said Potus. "The great chief is alive and well. We've been keeping him safe since the possibility of attacks was feared. I spoke with him a few hours ago. He can vouch for the fact that there were no drugs and that in fact, he was a licensed natural healer who was trying to help treat the Prime Minister, God save his burnt soul. The chief had a minor incident where he fell and he has some bumps and bruises, but he's being treated well and will be released from our doctors' care shortly."
The same reporter continued, "Sir, the reports I have from sources say the chief was shot with a gun and that as many as twenty-six shots were fired."
Potus chuckled. "Those were the fireworks. Not a gun. I think you've been reading Isaac Asimov again. No guns. Just some bruises and welts from his minor fall.
"Mr. President, Mr. President," said one reporter who fought the rest for the microphone. "Was there any danger to yourself or others in attendance at the fireworks show on the fourth?"
"No, no," said Potus proudly. "The Office of the President is guarded by the most advanced and well-trained bodyguard units in the world. Even if the man who is acting as President could be harmed, the Office of the President never could be harmed. I was never in any danger whatsoever, nor any of those in the immediate vicinity that were covered by my detail. It is unfortunate that the Brits were unable to care for their own, but they seem to be having a stiff upper lip about the whole thing."
"Sir, Sir, Mr. President," called another reporter with an English accent. "The British press is reporting that the Queen spoke with you in an informal setting and that you were not in proper attire for the meeting. She has made a statement that she wishes to speak to you again when you are ready to peform a formal royal and proper interview."
Potus waved his hands and said "No, the Queen can go pound sand. No one interviews the President. We don't have royalty in America and we dislike all other forms of governments except democracies. I had just woken up to be briefed on the incident and wanted to talk to her right away due to the time differences. In fact, if we had one single timezone on the earth, the whole incident could have been avoided and I would have worn some more formal attire."
"No more questions," Potus said and left the stage as the reporters shouted.
"What will he do?" asked the U.N. Ambassador with a husky voice.
"What he always does," said the the Chief of Staff. "He'll save the world and curse his way through a press conference."
"Genius," said the U.N. Ambassador.
July 6
Meanwhile in the press briefing room, Potus was introduced to the domestic and foreign press by the Press Secretary.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the press," the Press Secretary began, "we have called this emergency meeting to provide some information on the recent events at Camp David while the President was on vacation there celebrating the holiday. He'll give a brief speech and then we'll take questions and answer as many as we can. We've chosen the order of the questions based on a random draw. You've been assigned your order numbers before you got here. Please hold your applause and questions until the end, thank you."
Potus stepped forward, smoothed out his papers on the dais.
"Dear my fellow Americans," Potus said and someone guffawed in the right front of the press room. "Goddamn it," Potus said. "I hate whoever keeps putting that in my speeches. Don't think I won't find out who it is."
Someone on the left back side of the room giggled uncomfortably. Potus jerked his head. "Was that you?" he snapped.
The silence in the close room was punctuated by coughs clicking camera flashes and pens scratching on paper.
"I'm going to find you and kick your ass," Potus said finally. The Chief of Staff walked to the President's side and whispered in his ear. Then he handed Potus a new set of papers and took the others away. Potus smoothed out his sheets of paper.
"Dear my fellow world citizens, goddman it to hell motherfuckers," Potus said. He threw the sheets of paper behind him. There was a great deal of laughter in the press room. "All right, very funy, very funny," he said. "No more laughter, this is a serious topic."
The room quieted down after a while. Potus continued, "As you have heard from the unsubstantiated rumours, I regret to say that our beloved friend and ally, the British Prime Minister has died." Gasps and the clicks of cameras were heard around the room. "The British Prime Minister, God save his soul, was taken into our Lord's arms near my Presidential retreat by a carefully orchestrated attack by unknown parties."
"Mr. President," said someone from the front of the room.
Potus waved his hands and ignored the reporter. "Approximately 10:30pm Eastern Daylight Savings time, an unknown assailant was seen throwing a firebomb at the Prime Minister and he perished in flaming death. His security detail and our special forces were unable to prevent the attack because he had been intoxicated with a variety of over-the-counter cold medicines."
"Mr. President," sang out a chorus of reporters. Potus ignored them.
"I personally called the Queen, God save her, as soon as I learned of the incident very early on the next morning. She was bitterly grieved and expressed great anguish over this fine gentleman's death. They'll likely make a saint out of him, God bless him. I," here Potus' voice cracked and everyone who witnessed the speech agreed it was genuine and heartfelt, "I believe that he defeneded himself valiantly and we should all take a moment of silence for this hero."
"Mr. President, Mr. President," yelled the reporters as the cameras clicked.
"Shut the fuck up," Potus demanded. "A moment of fucking silence, dickheads."
The room was silent for a few moments.
Potus said, "Now, I'll take some questions. Who was first?"
A reporter in the middle row raised his hand and cleared his voice. "Sir, there are reports coming out of the coroner's office that state the British Prime Minister may have been burned to death with some accelerant, like alcohol. A contact inside the office said that he was also wrapped in some kind of 'kindling', his words, and also that a very flamable material that was sticky and black was found covering part of his ashes. What do you say about those statements?"
"The coroner does not have a lot of good information and that information should not have been leaked in any case. I believe that it just shows how crafty and vicious these Mossad agents are and how well prepared they were to execute such a crime against humanity and democracy. You, there," said Potus, calling the next reporter. There was a loud stirring and murmer among the reporters.
"Sir, you mentioned the Mossad just now, are you implying," the reporter started but Potus interrupted him.
"I said no such thing," said Potus. "I'm sure what I said was an accident. We are not saying the Israeli special forces had anything to do with this. That is pure speculation and we won't address the issue until all the facts are out. I think I was saying something about the mustard agents, like some kind of gas used in World War Two. Next question," Potus said. He winked at the Chief of Staff who gave Potus the "thumbs up" sign.
"Sir," said a reporter from the back row. "There are further reports from some of the other guests in attendance at your fireworks show that there was some sort of strange drug-filled ritual involving hallucinogens and dancing and orgies."
Potus was annoyed. "I don't know how you can make those stories up. There was no dancing, or maybe a little bit. Speaking of fireworks, we're still investigating if this was merely a horrible tragedy with the fireworks. Maybe some embers fell on the Prime Minister and this is all some sort of freak accident. I'll have my people on that," Potus said turning to his staff and gesturing frantically. The Chief of Staff nodded and started scribbling in his notepad. The Press Secretary began typing into his phone.
The next reporter jostled for attention and was able to wrestle control of a microphone. "Sir, some tabloid reporters near the scene were said to snap photographs that were subsequently stolen from their cameras by men who drove black silent vans and wore black suits with dark sunglasses at midnight. Were these agents federal men and will the government release this information to the public?"
"No," said Potus.
There was a long pause while cameras whirred and clicked.
"Sir?" asked the reporter.
"I said, 'no'," said Potus. "Next question."
"Sir, the First and Fourth Amendments to the Constitution," began the reporter.
"No, don't give me that Constitutional bullshit," interrupted Potus. "The federal government has jurisdiction over the grounds at Camp David where I perform my private rest after all my great and tiring service to this nation. My men may or may not have seized valuable evidence that will help solve this case and that evidence will likely never see the light of day. Those reporters are lucky to be alive. I was about to authorise a mind-wipe on the tabloid muckrackers but have decided against it. It is better for the nation that we don't resort to such drastic measures on our citizens."
"Mr. President," said the next reporter above the hubbub. "I'd like to address the reports of drug use once agian. I have similar sources who say that there was a lot of illegal substances consumed and that they were dispensed by a Native American-Indian shaman who is currently missing. His wife and children have been trying to find him. They have signed affadavits that he was visiting your compound at Camp David and hasn't been seen since."
"Shows what you know," said Potus. "The great chief is alive and well. We've been keeping him safe since the possibility of attacks was feared. I spoke with him a few hours ago. He can vouch for the fact that there were no drugs and that in fact, he was a licensed natural healer who was trying to help treat the Prime Minister, God save his burnt soul. The chief had a minor incident where he fell and he has some bumps and bruises, but he's being treated well and will be released from our doctors' care shortly."
The same reporter continued, "Sir, the reports I have from sources say the chief was shot with a gun and that as many as twenty-six shots were fired."
Potus chuckled. "Those were the fireworks. Not a gun. I think you've been reading Isaac Asimov again. No guns. Just some bruises and welts from his minor fall.
"Mr. President, Mr. President," said one reporter who fought the rest for the microphone. "Was there any danger to yourself or others in attendance at the fireworks show on the fourth?"
"No, no," said Potus proudly. "The Office of the President is guarded by the most advanced and well-trained bodyguard units in the world. Even if the man who is acting as President could be harmed, the Office of the President never could be harmed. I was never in any danger whatsoever, nor any of those in the immediate vicinity that were covered by my detail. It is unfortunate that the Brits were unable to care for their own, but they seem to be having a stiff upper lip about the whole thing."
"Sir, Sir, Mr. President," called another reporter with an English accent. "The British press is reporting that the Queen spoke with you in an informal setting and that you were not in proper attire for the meeting. She has made a statement that she wishes to speak to you again when you are ready to peform a formal royal and proper interview."
Potus waved his hands and said "No, the Queen can go pound sand. No one interviews the President. We don't have royalty in America and we dislike all other forms of governments except democracies. I had just woken up to be briefed on the incident and wanted to talk to her right away due to the time differences. In fact, if we had one single timezone on the earth, the whole incident could have been avoided and I would have worn some more formal attire."
"No more questions," Potus said and left the stage as the reporters shouted.
No comments:
Post a Comment