"Sir, yes, sir, I am waiting to speak," said a press reporter from the middle row with an obvious 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 Chathuranga," Charlie said.
Potus said, "There's a great American name, Frank. Wonderful. Go ahead, Frank."
“I don’t understand,” said Frank.
“Go ahead, Frank.”
“I…” Frank looked behind him, uncertain what was going on.
“Look,” said Potus, “If you don’t understand the words that are coming out of my mouth, then fuck you.”
Frank looked perplexed.
“Calm down,” Potus yelled at the hubbub in the press room. “Frank, you may speak with the Office of the President now. Go ahead.”
Frank decided to proceed anyway. He said, "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. The Tamil Tigers have caused..."
Potus 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 his face and caught the shoe. Johnson, trying to protect Potus too late flew in front of him and knocked down the front row of reporters.
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