Potus, Camp David, Part VI

Meanwhile Potus woke up to the bright sun and winced.
"Sheesh," he muttered and sat up.  The First Lady was sprawled on the dirt nearby.  She snored in such as way as to indicate she wouldn't want to be awakened.
Potus stood unsteadily and looked a pile of ashes next to some remnants of a blanket and what appeared to be burnt marshmallows.  A martini glass lay next to the burnt tableau.
"Egads," Potus called weakly.  "Where are my shorts?" he wondered.
He stumbled a bit left, careful to avoid the sleeping First Lady.  He saw the Chief of Staff and U.N. Ambassador laying foot-to-foot near the camp fire.  Arms akimbo, Potus surveyed more of the scene.  The sun shone on the sensitive areas that rarely saw even the earliest rays of sunlight.
Potus wandered a bit more in the other direction toward the Johnson body on the other side of the campfire.  Johnson was sleeping peacefully, head rested on his outstretched arm.  His sidearm rested equally peacefully in his hand.
Potus saw a nearby tree and urinated on the trunk in the privacy and quiet of the early morning.  Someone snapped a picture at a great distance.
Potus leaned back to put maximum pressure on his bladder and squinted up into the tree.  He spotted his swimming trunks and smiled.  They were hanging from a tree branch at about two and one half metres up and could easily be retrieved with a good jump.
Potus jumped several times to retrieve his shorts.  Shaniqua woke up from a deep sleep behind the peeing tree.  She yawned and stretched luxuriously.  Potus quickly crumpled up his shorts and covered his extremeties.
"How do you do, Shaniqua?" he asked.
"Potus.  What happened?" she asked.
"I don't remember.  Fine morning, isn't it?"
"If you say so, cracker."
"I do indeed."
"Put your shorts on, you dirty dog," she said.
"I need you to turn around first, I think," Potus replied.
"It's not like I haven't seen enough with you and the missus on the rack contraption you guys use," she said.
"That's true, but I feel self-concious at this point," Potus said.
"Ok," she agreed and turned around.  Potus hopped on one foot to get his shorts on.
Someone snapped several photographic sequences at a great distance.

Potus, Camp David part V

"All right," Potus said and snorted the powder thoughfully.  Someone took a photograph somewhere at a distance.
"It smells like dirt," he said.
"It is the clay of our spiritual ancestors, the 'Awan hua pualoaha wakan', the ones from the sky who visit us."
"What kind of Indian tribes are you, chief?" Potus asked.
"I am part Hopi, part Arapaho," the Cheif answered.  "The Hopi originate around present-day Colonial Arizona.  The Arapaho are originally found around Colorado and parts of Kansas."
"That's why I like you so much," Potus said.  "You're a real American, not like those fake Americans in Mexico or Canada."
"The Mexicans are meso-Americans," said the U.N. Ambassador.  She knocked back a snoot full of white clay.
"They're a mess, all right," said Potus.
"Now drink the spirit juice and eat the vision biscuits," said the Hopi Chief, producing a deer skin drinking pouch and some small breads.
"What's this?" asked the First Lady.
"First, the sick one filled with the demons," said the Hopi Chief inidicating the British Prime Minister in his wet blanket.
"Right-o, cheers," the British Prime Minister said and sloshed more  gin in his lap while chugging a stream of liquid from the deer skin bag.
"Cannonball," intoned the Hopi Chief.
"Egads," said the British Prime Minister wiping his chin.  "Bloody hell."
"Yeah?" asked Potus.  "It's good?"
"I should say not," said the British Prime Minister.
"Try the biscuits," offered the Hopi Chief.
"These aren't biscuits, they're cookies," corrected the British Prime Minister.  "Egads," he repeated after taking a nibble on a fuzzy brown lump.
"Stop saying the safe words," cried the First Lady.  Potus shushed her.
"Pass that over here, fine American," said Potus.  He handed the deer skin bag to Johnson.  "Bottoms up," he said.
Johnson looked at the bag suspiciously.  "I'm not the taster.  That's not in my union contract," he said.
"We don't approve of Unions, you know that," said Potus.  "Chin chin."
"Chin chin," said Johnson, lifting the bag and taking a swig of a fine stream.  "Pretty good," he said handing the bag to Potus.
Potus took a long guzzle from the bag's nipple.  "I like it a lot," he said and passed it to the First Lady.
"This mixture will drive away the germs and spirits that affect the body and mind," said the Hopi Chief.  "The combination of the ancestral clay and spirit juice with vision biscuits will allow the heart to see what cannot be viewed with the eyes."
"That's why patriots like us enjoy such a fine priilege," said Potus as he took a bite of a vision biscuit.  He made a disguted face.  The Chief of Staff sat down and took a sip of the spirit liquid.
"The ghost dance is used to cleanse those who are sick.  All are sick.  Those who have died are equal," said the Hopi Chief.
"Sounds like Communism to me," said Potus.
"Oh, look, the fireworks are starting," said the British Prime Minister.
Everyone looked around.  The British Prime Minister stared upward.
"What's he looking at?" asked the First Lady.
"I don't know, but they're just starting to light the camp fire," said the U.N. Ambassador.
"I love the comet trails," said Johnson also looking up.
"The sky tells us a story.  Those who tell the stories control the world," said the Hopi Chief.
"That's me," said Potus proudly.  "Will we have marshmallows?  That's a good idea.  We should have marshallows."
Everyone took another round of spirit liquid and some snorted more ancestor clay.
"The colours really are beatiful," said the First Lady.
"I don't see anything," complained Potus.  "I see a little bit of flashing lights around there," here he pointed, "but nothing else."
"Is it raining?" asked the British Prime Minister.
"The rain falls on the just and unjust," said the Hopi Chief.
"Where I come from, the sky is not clouded all day," said Potus.  "We say that the sun shines on a bald head and the dog's ass."
"I know that saying too," said Johnson.
A voice from a long distance said, "The range of mange is lain strangely on the cage."
"When I look around, I do see tracking jitters, like flashes of bad video on YouTube," the Staff of Chief said.
"Why is it that the bread is never quite as soft or absorbent as I'd like?" asked a Potus voice.
A pig wearing the First Lady's clothes said in a U.N. Ambassador's voice, "When all the food is served, then the guests may eat."
A Potus body spoke to the Chief of Hopi.  "Sir, I believe I can safely say that we are not in Kansas anymore."
"I must find the spirit juice to wash down this G&T," said the British First Minister.
The Secret Chief and Indian Agent were playing cowboys and indians.  "Bang bang," he said, pulling out a tree from his shoulder holster.
The Potus voice with a pig's body seemed to call from an even further distance away.  "Where are the marshmallows?  They should be on a stick so we can light them on fire."
"Careful with that," said a tree man with a Hopi voice.
"I am always careful," said the First Ambassador.
They floated for a while like that, observing the size of the sky and the universe.  The very dust on the moon seemed bright, cool and fine.  All things blended as one from macro to micro.  Sometimes even beyond.  Always bright and warm, the sky was dark with traces of energy and light.
"Vroom, vroom," said the marshmallow light saber.
"Bang bang bang, I got you," exclaimed the cowboy.
The shining, flaming sword swooshed left and right while rainbows swirled fiercely in the middle of it all.  Bright colours danced above and not below.
"I see now what is meant by this land," said a man-sized office.
"The oceans are vast, but not for the inner eye," agreed the Speedos with the French flag.

40 Blangulary
Meanwhile, the sun rose and set; it was the next day.

41st Juiffanster
They swirled around and a bonfire roared.  The Potus echo asked a question.  The answer was late because the clocks had not been shifted back.
Fireworks in the Orion nebula lit up the whole area beneath the horse head.  It wasn't enough, but it did hurt the eyes to look at.  Water fell down the back of the duck and rolled in rivulets across a plain.  There weren't any discouraging words, nor would there be for the forseeable future.
The antelope body asked a deer mind to play frolicsome.  The encounter was ended safely with a few words.  The bonfire collapsed and swirls of motes flew into the heavens once again.  "God save the Queen," he said.
"Hail to the Chief," she exclaimed back at him.
Every common-person was seen looking lovingly to the north.  Even the Unions thought they could reach an agreement.  Generally, all was well and nothing was untoward.  The homes were protected and warm; a voice across a cold plane was heard to sing Amazing Grace, but with synth overtones like Amadeus.
The buffalo beef was not very good, but it never is.  How small the world seems and how well it fits into the puzzles that baffle lesser minds.

July 5
Meanwhile Potus woke up to the bright sun and winced.

Potus, Camp David Part IV

Meanwhile, later that evening the cocktail hour was gearing up in the back of the estate.  Potus was upstairs in his Speedo with the very American stripes that help him swim faster.
"You have to wear something appropriate for the cocktail," complained the First Lady.
"When was the last time I was appropriate for anything?" Potus asked.
"Well, it does say 'Black Tie' on the invitations," the First Lady said.
"You're not supposed to say black, or whatever.  It's um, well, um," here Potus whispered, "African."
"Who says 'African Tie'?  That's not real," the First Lady said loudly.
Shaniqua walked by the door to the bedroom.  She stopped, flipped both her middle fingers at Potus and continued walking.
"Why are you looking over my shoulder like that?" asked the First Lady.
"Never mind, honey," said Potus.  "Let me put on a tie if that will make you feel better."
Johnson appeared as Potus was adjusting his formal black tie.  He coughed loudly.   The First Lady and Potus linked arms and followed him down the hallway to be escorted to the the party.  "Eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight," sang Potus under his breath.
"I'm sorry Sir?" asked Johnson.
"Never mind, it's classified," said Potus.
"Good one, Sir," said Johnson.  "Rice and beans in the can.  Approaching bonfire of the vanities," he said into his wrist.
"The eyeeeeeee of the tiger," sang Potus under his breath.
"You and your eye of the tiger," said the First Lady.  "You look ridiculous in your swimming suit and tie."
"At least I feel cool while you folks will be sweating," Potus said.
They approached the back door of the residence and met Chavatangakwunua.
"Hello," he intoned.  He raised his arms while Johnson frisked him and checked what he was carrying.
"These blankets are for you to stay warm if it's chilly.  I assume Potus won't need any," the Hopi chief said.
"No, but I bet old British Fart will," said Potus.
The proceeded out to the back.  The Chief of Staff, wearing his tuxedo, announced loudly, "Ladies and Gentleman, the President of the United States and the First Lady."
They walked forward toward the seats around a campfire as the guests clapped politely.  Several people in their formal clothing murmured about Potus in his Speedos.  They sat next to the British Prime Minister at the front, closest to the fire.  He was shivering and sneezing.
"You poor thing, you look dreadful," said the First Lady.  "You should go inside."
"No, thanks, I'm fine," said the British Prime Minister.  "Stiff upper lip and all that, cheerio, what what?"
"Here," offered the Hopi Chief handing him a blanket.  "It will keep you warm."
"Thanks," said the British Prime Minister.  "This gin will also keep me warm, I'm told.  Whoops," he said as he spilled some on his blanket.
The Hopi Chief raised his hand.  "No problem.  We can wash the blankets when you're done.  Fire water is not something new for the Indian peoples."
"What are we waiting for?" complained Potus loudly.
"Shush dear," said the First Lady.  We're waiting for it to get dark enough to start the fireworks."
"Well, fiddlesticks," said the British Prime Minister, dripping more gin on his blanket.
"Watch out," cried Potus.
The First Lady blushed.
"What's that?" asked the British Prime Minister.
"Nothing," said Potus.  "We'll just have to change our safe word."
"Again," mumbled the First Lady.
"While we are waiting," said Chavatangakwunua, "we can perform the ritual cleansing of evil spririts and also germs.  Our people believe that the evil spirits that inhabit our world can affect our bodies and those around us if our hearts and minds are not right.  Science is only now beginning to catch up to the wisdom of our peoples."
"Oh, Christ," mutterered Potus under his breath.  The First Lady slapped his shoulder loudly.
"This powder will cure the evil spirits that hide in your nose, Mr. Minister," said the Hopi Chief producing a leather bag and offering it to the British Prime Minister.
He reached out to take a pinch of the powder, tipping his drink precariously and soaking his blanket again.
"What do we do with this, then?" the British Prime Minister asked.  He sprinkled some on his tongue.
"You can eat it, but the old people used to breathe it in to clear the nostils of evil spirits," the Hopi Chief said.  He waved the pouch at Potus who recoiled.
"I'm not trying that," Potus said.
"Oh, come on you pansy," the First Lady said, grabbing some.  She took a pinch and snorted some in both nostrils.
Potus looked behind him at Johnson.  "You have to protect me," he said.
Johnson looked worried.  "I'm on duty, Sir," he said.
"It's not that bad, right chief?"  asked Potus.
"No, it's perfectly harmless," said the Hopi Chief.  He offered the pouch to Johnson who took some suspiciously and rubbed the powerder on his gums.
"So?" asked Potus.
"It's OK.  Kind of sweet," Johnson replied.
"Give me more, my nose is stuffed," said the British Prime Minister.  He took some from the Chief.  The Chief of Staff came by and refilled the British Prime Minister's glass and handed out cocktails to the other guests.
The Chief of Staff himself took a large pinch and inhaled it.
"All right, I'll try some," Potus said.  "But first, what's our safe word?"  The First Lady whispered something into his ear and they both giggled.  Potus took a pinch of powder and tasted it.
"Don't be a big wimpy girl, Potus," chided the First Lady, taking a second snort from the pouch.
"All right," Potus said and snorted the powder thoughfully.

Potus, Camp David, Part III

"It's not French," demanded Potus.
"It could be a French flag," agreed Johnson.
"Besides, Sir, a Speedo isn't exactly American," said Chief of Staff.
"It helps me swim faster," said Potus.
They walked past the pool up the path to where the hot dogs were cooking on the grill.
Potus sniffed the air.  "Ah, patriotism," he sighed again.
"What's that?" asked a familiar voice behind Potus.
"U.N. Ambassador, how nice to meet you here," Potus said.
"I was able to tag along with the foreign dignitaries.  I am always on hand to meet with them," she explained.
"You're here to handle my affairs I guess," said Potus.
"Excatly right," she said.
"I think the Office needs all the help it can get for foreign diplomatic relations," Potus said.
"What kind of shorts are those?" the U.N. Ambassador asked.
"These are American swimming shorts," Potus declared proudly, arms akimbo.
"They look like the French flag," the U.N. Ambassador said.
"How would you know?" asked Potus.
"Sir, I see every country's flag on a daily basis near my office at the United Nations," she said.
"Clearly you haven't seen the American flag enough," scoffed Potus.
Another man approached.  The U.N. Ambassador introduced him to Potus.  "Mr. President, this is the Israeli Prime Minister.  Israeli Prime Minister, this is Potus."
"Pleased to meet you," said Potus.
"Likewise," said the Israeli Prime Minister.
"Tell me something, if you would," asked Potus.
"Certainly," the Israeli Prime Minister said.
"Are you Jewish?" asked Potus.
"Of course," answered the Israeli Prime Minister.  "Why would you ask?"
"Nothing," said Potus.  "It's just that I don't see the funny hat you guys wear.  So I was wondering."
"You mean the Yarmukle?  It is not Shabbat, so we are not required to wear it.  I am also not very Orthodox like some of my colleagues."
"Yes, I understand.  I'm not Greek either.  And unlike the Greeks, you and I share a similar situation in the pants region," said Potus.
"I'm not sure I understand the reference," said the Israeli Prime Minister.
"You know, with the whole Jewish thing in the, uh, downstairs department."
The Prime Minister stared.
"You know," pressed Potus.  "The junk.  The skinned package.  The circumstantial evidence.  You can probably see with the snugness of my swimming trunks."
The Prime Minister carefully avoided looking down.  "I think I understand," he said.
"What the President is trying to say," interrupted the U.N. Ambassador quickly, "is that he is a big fan of Jewish heritage and customs.  He also supports the cultural stylings of the Hebrew peoples with an inclusive view of all world religions."
"I do not," said Potus.
"Let's go eat, shall we?" asked the U.N. Ambassador.
"Yes," said Potus.  "Do you like a rolled up meat in your mouth, Ambassador?"
"Oh, stop," said the First Lady.  The Israeli Prime Minister Guffawed.
"Yes, I do quite like sausages and hotdogs," said the U.N. Ambassador innocently.  "I consider myself quite ambitious and have tried a variety of meats from around the world."
"I'm sure you did," winked Potus.
"Do you like Kashir meats at all?" asked the Israeli Prime Minister.
"Oh yes, and also Hallal," answered the U.N. Ambassador.
"Truly offensive," said the Israeli Prime Minister.
"Not at the same time," interjected Potus.
"No, not at the same time," agreed the U.N. Ambassador.
"One after the other?" asked the First Lady.
"Depending on my apetite, I guess," answered the U.N. Ambassador, not getting the drift.
"Do you like to spread mayonaise on your hotdogs?" aske Potus, layering his dog with a mixture of condiments.
"Not really, that is a European specialty," she answered.
"And should the meat exceed the bun, or do you prefer the reverse?" asked the Israeli Prime Minister.
"About an equal ratio," answered the U.N. Prime Minister, considering the details carefully.
"I believe the bun should just barely contain the meat," said the First Lady looking at the Potus.  "And if there isn't enough meat, then some fillers will have to be added somehow," she noted.
"No, I believe in all natural ingredients," said Potus defensively.
They walked toward a park bench where an old man was sitting.
"Hello," the old man greeted them.  "I am Chief Chavatangakwunua of the Hopi peoples," he said.
"Pleased to meet you," said Potus,  extending his hand.  He fumbled his plate and fell into his lap as he was sitting.  Potus caught it between his thighs, high up near the crotch so it stuck out.  "Oops," he said.  "Will someone get that, I'm having some troubles..."
The First Lady reached out but her plate drooped precariously and her hot dog flew into the lap of the Hopi Chief.  He clamped his legs together and caught the hot dog in a similar fashion to Potus.
Potus stood up, carefully keeping the hot dog between his legs.  "I don't want to drop the dog, and I don't want to grab it because of the condiments," he said.
"Let me get that, Sir," said the Chief of Staff hurrying over.
"No, no, I can do it," Potus said.
"Oh dear me," said the First Lady.  She reached out to grab her hot dog from the Chief's lap.  Potus turned slightly and brushed his hot dog against her thigh as she was bent over to retrieve hers from the Chief.
A photographer snapped some pictures at a distance.
After the mess with the hot dogs was cleaned up and every had sat down calmly, the British Prime Minister came over and introduced himself.
"Nice to meet you," said Potus.
"Nicely met," said the British Prime Minister and then sneezed.
Potus recoiled.  "You're not sick are you?"
"Just a slight head cold, chap," said the British Prime Minister.
"I have a cure for that cold, and some blankets," said the Hopi Chief.
"Yes, yes, quite.  That would be terrific," said the British Prime Minister.
"I'll need some too.  I don't like to get sick," said Potus.
"No, he doesn't," said the First Lady.  "I try to make him soups and home made remedies and he absolutely will have none of it."
"I find it fascinating how each culture deals with sickness and disease," said the U.N. Ambassador.  "I would also be interested in the native cures of the American tribes people."
The Hopi Chief nodded.  "I brought some Anhalonium with me.  We will have a Ghost Dance and watch the fireworks," he said.
"I can have my chef cook some Matzo ball soup as well," offered the Israeli Prime Minister.  "It cures everything that ails man."
"What about women?" asked the U.N. Ambassador.
"Yes, them too," answered Potus quickly.  "The Jewish people have a long tradition of treating women well."
"We do?" asked the Israeli Prime Minsiter surprised.
"Of course," answered the U.N. Ambassador.  "The Israeli armed forces is half women."
"That's because we don't have a large population," said the Israeli Prime Minister.
"Tell us one of those famous Hopi Indian stories, Chawangobongo" said Potus shifting focus.
"Chavatangakwunua," corrected the Hopi Chief.  "I will tell a story during the Ghost Dance.  It is the proper time for such things.  Each bird likes to hear himself sing."
"Amen to that," said Potus.

Potus, Camp David part II

(Yesterday it was the Butler, this will work better with Chief of Staff, besides most of his help is laid off, remember?  Also, go back and edit the Speedo to be Red, White and Blue as you'll see)
Chief of Staff held the tray behind his back. He said, "Sir, after lunch, we'll have a coctail hour in the back with all the guests."
Potus was annoyed.  "Which guests?  It's bad enough we have that English foreigner."
Chief of Staff adjusted his feet uncomfortably.  "Sir, we tried to keep it within America.  We have the Senate Marjority Leader, the tribes leader Chawangonee, your Vice Governor from Kansas who took your job, and the Israeli prime minister."
Potus said, "Chawan go what?"
Chief of Staff said, "Chawangonee, he's representing the native tribes peoples.  He's 3/8ths Cherokee, 7/16ths Arapaho and 3/16ths another tribe that I can't remember."
Potus said, "Outstanding.  We'll have a true American present for our American celebrations.  He's a good man.  I'm 3/16ths of that other thing myself.  Probably.  What did you say about the Israeli?"
Chief of Staff nodded.  "The Israeli prime minister.  He's here to secure your affirmation that America will defend Israel against the Iranians and Egyptians."
Potus said, "Israel doesn't need us.  Those crazy bastards can defend themselves.  Give them a sharp stick and a ram's head and they'll kill two thirds of the middle east."
Chief of Staff said, "Sir."
Potus looked up, "You don't look well.  It's too hot to be wearing a tuxedo.  What are you doing in that thing:  you look ridiculous!"
The First Lady slapped at Potus' arm.  "Be nice," she chided.
Chief of Staff said, "Yes, Sir, just trying to fill in for the, uh, shortfall of staff with our esteemed guests."
Potus sat up on his elbows.  "They're not steamed."  He looked over his shoulder.  "Johnson, get over here."
Johnson approached.  He wore a white cotton undershirt with a shoulder holster and large blue swimming trunks.
Potus stood up.  "You see, here?  This man knows how to relax.  Yes, he's on duty.  Yes, he's got a side arm in his pit.  But he's relaxed.  Like me.  I'm also very patriotic with my American shorts."
Chief of Staff cleared his throat.
Potus looked at Johnson.  "What?  It's American!"
Chief of Staff said, "It's a Fench flag, sir.  The American flag has red and white stripes, not bands of colour."
Potus was annoyed.  "Whatever, go make us those fancy whatever you called its.  Johnson, I'm jumping in the pool."
"Roger that," said Johnson, speaking quietly into his wrist.