Potus, the end

Potus mopped his brow with a handkerchief under the hot lights.  He turned and walked down the Center Hall followed by the Chief of Staff and Johnson.
Potus looked out the windows at the crowds behind the iron fence in the distance.  Potus asked, "What are they protesting?"
The Chief of Staff answered, "They are paying their condolences for the British Prime Minister and expressing outrage at the papparazi."
Potus snorted.  "Goddamned fools," he said.  Potus turned to the Chief of Staff and asked, "What have we learned so far?"
Chief of Staff shrugged.  "I don't know, Sir," he said.
Potus laughed.  "The victory is God's.  The battle is ours.  Wait, let me rephrase that.  The victory is ours.  Not these chumps," he said jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
"Yes Sir, genius Sir," said the Chief of Staff.  He saluted stiffly and turned on his heel to leave.
Johnson and Potus walked down the hall and through the guard post outside the bedroom.  The stopped together and stood just inside the door in the bedroom.
Potus sighed.  "The victory is ours," he repeated.

Potus, Finale Part I

July 7
Meanwhile at exactly 10 am Eastern Daylight Saving Time, Potus entered the east room and walked up to the podium.
"Dear my fellow Americans, British brothers, and world citizens.  I am announcing with a sad heart and heavy mind that the British Prime Minster has met an untimely end at Camp David in an unfortunate accident involving the fireworks show celebrating American Independence.  There are no words to express my feelings of loss and sadness at his passing, so I will not even try to speak them.  A thorough investingation by the best forensic teams in the world has shown that this accident was partially caused by high levels of intoxication and the actions of some rogue paparazzi.  The Prime Minister was enjoying some alcoholic beverages when a team of paparazzi low-lifes asked him for a photograph.  If the paparazzi had not chased the Prime Minister on foot, he would not have entered an unsafe area near the fireworks show, where he was set on fire.
"It is ironic that his death follows on the holiest holiday in American celebrations, our separation from the rule of the United Kingdom.  However, we join the countries around the world in mourning his trajic passing.  We extend our most sincere and heartfelt condolences to the people of the United Kingdom and South Ireland.  The British Prime Minister was not just a personal friend and colleague he was also a great person who told jokes and loved to laugh at funny things.  I'll always remember that about him at his passing.
"I spoke with the Queen, her majesty, and some members of her privy council who will begin the difficult process of choosing a new Prime Minister from the House of Commons.  Like America, they celebrate the orderly succession of government under the rule of law and with the involvement of the people in a great democracy.
"Let us know have a moment of silence while the cameras cut away to show scenes of flowers being laid around the door of 10 Downing Street where the Prime Minister lived."
Potus bowed his head and waited a few moments.  He turned his head slightly to look to his left and winked at the Chief of Staff who gave him the thumb-up sign.  The monitor on one side showed the news clips of people placing flower bouquets and llighting candles in front of Big Ben and at 10 Downing street.  The producer in front of him counted down silently on his fingers: 5, 4, 3, 2...
"Now, although the painful business of grieving must continue, I would like to also use this opportunity to discuss a major breakthrough in Congress.  I've reached an agreement to end the budgetary blockages and the government shutdown that has whittled down my staff and cut off funding to the executive branch of the Government.  I think it's clear that these recent events show that the Office of the President must be well staffed and protected from all that is evil and bad in the world.
"Congress has agreed to continue funding the government budgets and I have agreed to sign into law the first bill of my tenure.  I am pleased to announce that we will be abolishing the current bureaucratic nightmare that are timezones and the awful atrocity that is Dayling Saving Time.  Beginning March 22nd of next year, the United States will be standardising on a 14 timezone system that will be based on selecting 10-minute increments of time adjustments based on even or odd longitudes and clocks will be adjusted within each zone according to an easy-to-remember set of rules.
"These rules will be announced and finalised, but they are very simple to remember and easy to implement.  No longer will you have to set your clock ahead or back by one hour.  You will be able to set your clocks ahead by only 10 minutes up to 8 times a year, depending on where you live.  Some states have more time changes than others.  Some longitudes will have different increments.  But overall, the system will work exceedingly well and even better than the one that we have now.
"More importantly, this new system of timezones will save lives, energy, and that most precious commodity, daylight.  It will end confusion about which timezone and offset each state uses because this law provides for a central web site that will hold all the current information on what time it is in various locations.  Let's say that you want to schedule a meeting two weeks from now to meet with several team members from different parts of our nation.  You would log in your computer and go to 'double-u double-u double-u dot what time is it going to be dot com' to find out.  On that computer web site, you would find all the different locations and timezones for each team member and you would be able to get federally approved timestamps for each meeting time.
"Canada, Hawaii, Puerto Rico, and Alaskan timezones are not supported at this time.  I am sure they will be added as we move forward.
"I will now sign this bill into law," Potus said and sat down to sign the bill.  There was polite applause as Potus sat down at a table setup next to the podium and signed a blank sheet of paper four times.  The blank sheets were for show; the real bill was still being printed down the street at the local print shop.
The producer yelled, "Cut!  That's it, folks, we're off the air.  Thanks, Potus."

Potus, Press Conference Part I

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.

Potus, Camp David, Part IX

The CIA director said, "I believe we're causing an international incident."
"Pssh," said Potus.  "I'll clear everything up with a speech.  I'm excellent at speeches."
"We can arrange a press conference soon," said the CIA director.  "But you, Sir, need to uh, you know, get dressed."
"Yes, of course," said Potus slapping his knees.  He stood up.  "Shaniqua, let's go, I need to get ready."
"Why me?" complained Shaniqua loudly.
"I need to give you back your 'pants'," Potus said pulling at the back of his thong and stretching the band.
"Oh no, Potus, you can keep that nasty old thing," Shaniqua said holding her nose.
Meanwhile, outside Johnson awoke and got up on one elbow.  He felt for his side arm and realised it was missing.  He noticed 9mm shell casing laying around in the grass and started picking them up hurriedly to hide the evidence.
The First Lady saw him from her bed on the ground and called him.  "Johnson, please help me up, dear," she said.
"Yes ma'am," he said putting the casings in his shorts pocket and trotting over.
"Where's Potus?" she asked.
"He's, um, well, that's classified ma'am," Johnson said.
"Ok, let's go find him and I'm going to kick his ass personally," said the First Lady.
"I can't let you do that, ma'am," said Johnson helping the First Lady to her feet.
"You don't have to look," she said.  "I'll take care of it in private."
The loud roar of a helicopter interrupted them and they stopped to look up as Marine One landed in a field nearby.  Potus strode out, dressed in a suit.  He waved happily at the First Lady and Johnson.
"Let's go, let's go," said Potus rubbing his hands with glee.  "We're off to avert an international crisis."
"Yes Sir," said Johnson.
"Potus, come here so I can beat your..." said the First Lady chasing after Potus.  He ran toward Marine One.
"You'll never catch me," Potus said as he saluted the marines on either side of the step ladder leading inside Marine One.

Potus, Camp David part VIII

The CIA director said, "Good idea, we'll blame the Israelis.  They've been itching to get a crack at the Brits for a long time.  Is it any coincidence that the Israeli Prime Minister, a former Mossad agent, is here on 'vacation' and is now missing, presumably flying back to Zion?"
"Exactly what I was thinking," said the man from the NSA.  "The Mossad cleverly architected a surgical hit directly inside the Camp David compound.  Thank God the President was never in any harm's way."
"Yes," said Potus proudly.
The CIA director continued, "We're already sending out messages and counter-intelligence to our allies and enemies.  We've taken care to slightly alter the story in each case so that the contradictory information will seem more believable."
"Excellent," said Potus.  "What about England?  They won't like that we've killed their leader."
The CIA director chuckled.  "No, their leader is the Queen.  Imagine the nuclear holocaust we'd be sitting in right now if she were killed during a Ghost Dance marshmallow incident?  No, no, other than some headlines in the press they won't notice."
"Oh, good," said Potus.
The man from the NSA said, "We should inform them directly as quickly as possible.  It's getting late in the afternoon their time and you need to apologise directly to the Queen before she learns about it on the internet."
"Me apologise?" asked Potus.
"Well, you know," said the man from the NSA.  "You just appear as if you are very concerned and apologetic.  You say, 'Ma'am (as in ham) I'm very sorry for your loss.  We wish you the best.  So on and so forth.'"
"Ma'am as in ham," said Potus.  "Got it."
"Good," said the CIA director.  We've got the video conference equipment setup with our offices in West Hampshire.  We have a stand-in who is fully briefed and she'll practice with you before you talk to the Queen so you can practice what you are going to say."
"Right," said Potus.
"Let's pull up West Hampshire," said the man from the NSA.
Potus uncrossed his legs and sat upright, folding his hands on the table.  A large image of the room and Potus with Shaniqua over his shoulder appeared on the screen.
"This is so you can see yourself and your posture, test your facial expressions and so forth," said the CIA director.
"Of course," said Potus, shifting and making faces at himself.  Shaniqua scowled.
An older, distinguished lady showed up in a box to the lower left.  Potus nodded.  "Let's test it."
The older lady and her regal surroundings popped up full screen and the Potus image shrunk to a small box.  "Nice setup," Potus said.
The older lady tilted her head and looked off-camera.  "We might be having audio troubles," said the CIA director.  "They chose a really good actress.  She really looks like the Queen."
"Hello Ma'am like ham," said Potus, giggling.  The woman frowned and looked at Potus.
Potus cleared his voice and tried to be serious.  "Hello Ma'am.  I'm Potus and I've got some urgent news for you."
"Yes, go ahead Potus," said the Queen actress.
"I'm afraid that your Prime Minister, who was a very good man by the way, has met an untimely ending.  We had a, um, a, um," Potus looked at the CIA director who mouthed a word.  Potus continued, "We've had a most unforunate incident in which the Prime Minister has met his death."
"Oh, dear," said the Queen actress.  She lifted a tea cup daintily and sipped it, pinkie extended.  She gently put down her tea cup in its saucer.
"Yes, Ma'am as in ham, I mean, just Ma'am," said Potus.  "We are gathering evidence, but we assume that he was assassinated by the Mossad and their killers, possibly with a marshmallow that was on fire.  I, of course, do not know anything about the incident personally and have no knowledge of the events surrounding his passing.  He was a very good man, a good leader, and heavy drinker."
"Oh, pish posh," said the Queen actress.  "He was not a very good man 'tall.  I don't speak ill of the dead, but Britain is better off without him.  I always did wish he hadn't been elected."
"Yes, Ma'am," said Potus raising his eyebrows.
"Ok, cut," said the CIA director.
The old lady looked surprised and looked off-camera.  "What's that?" she asked.  "I thought this was supposed to be a formal call from the United States.  He hasn't even got a shirt or any trousers on.  He's wearing bloody women's pants."
"I think this is real," whispered the large man from the NSA.
"No, it can't be," said the CIA director.
Shaniqua stuck out her tongue and made faces at the camera that could be seen in the small window-in-window view.  "Those aren't pants, those are my panties!" she yelled.
"Cut the feed, cut the feed," yelled Potus.  The view of the Queen clicked off and the view of Potus and Shaniqua filled the entire screen.
"That was bad," said the CIA director.
"I think so," said Potus.  "I didn't even straighten my tie."

Potus, Camp David part VII

"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."

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.

Potus, Camp David part I

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.

Potus, Confronting Congress, Part VI

"Amen," Potus said and raised his hands to heaven while the applause thundered through the chamber.

After a lenghty standing ovation, Potus finally spoke again.  "Thank you for that.  Now, we are all here together to unite in the American freedoms we enjoy so much."  Potus cracked his knuckles and people who knew him realised he was starting to go off-script.  "Some people have asked me why I continue to veto bills from Congress.  And the answer is simple, as I've stated before.  The Office of the President is supposed to balance the other powers.  Namely, the powers of the Legislative branch," Potus swept his arms in a wide circle, encompassing the whole chamber and nearly knocking his Vice President in the face.  "And the Judicial branch," Potus said while jabbing his finger at the Cheif Justices in the front row.  "And the People."

Potus nodded.  "That's right, the People of the United States are the fourth branch of the government.  They are not mentioned in the Constitution, except where it says, 'We the People."  Scattered applause sounded through the Chambers.  "'We the People, in order to form a more perfect Union', it says.  That's why the Office exists, to peform the will of the people in the balancing of the powers.

"Now, an office needs a man to fill it or there will just be some furniture and window dressings made by the beautiful First Lady," Potus nodded to his wife and polite applause filtered through the crowd.  "The office without a man is an empty room and the man without an office is just a homeless guy standing on the street corner."

"The people have elected me, I propose, because I need to be the defender of the land and execute the laws as they already exist, and to not create more laws that burthen our great nation with a huge  weight around its neck."  Half the Chamber's body rose and applauded loudly, the other half sat defiantly and scowled.

After the applause had died down, Potus continued.  "Let me tell you another story.  This story involves the spirit of the American people.  It embodies the greatness and the hard work of the spirit of America, just like the airplane that flew across the Atlantic and the Pacific.  This is the story of a hard working every boy born in a rural part of this great country.  He was named after the greatest office in the land, one that has held steady through the ages of this country's great existence, all the way back to the beginning of the dawn of time."

"This young boy grew up to be a young man, educated at the great Universitiy of Kansas.  He worked with dedication and long hours at his studies while the other students performed their sexual perversions and experiemented with drugs and rock music.  This hard working man grew up to be an older man who worked his way up the ladder at the famous Dundermire and Schmutzler firm and evntually became the governor of the great state of Kansas."

Potus wiped a small tear from the corner of his eye with the back of his hand and continued.  "This man was ridiculed for being named after the greatest office in the world; people told him he couldn't ever aspire to be the President.  They said, 'How can you be president when you're only the governor?'  But he persevered and held firm.  Eventually, he reached for the presidency and was rewarded by siezing his birthright and eventually becoming the office of the name that was given to him by his mother."

"Of course, that man is me.  My mother, on her deathbed, made me promise that I'd live up to my name.  She said, 'It's a fact they'll vote for someone named Potus, because every American prefers to vote their conscience and reelect the incumbant.'  She was a genius, God rest her soul."  The Chamber stood respectfully and applauded.

Potus raised his hand to stop the applause.  "Let that be a lesson for all great Americans to learn from.  In this country, we are free to fulfill our destiny if only we work hard enough and have the right name in life.  With a little luck and some good old elbow grease, we can accomplish anything.  God bless America."

The Chamber was once again filled with thunderous applause as Potus waved and made his way slowly down the aisle and out the door.

Potus, Confronting Congress Part IV

"Dear my fellow Americans," Potus began and someone in the back of the Chamber snickered.
Potus paused, moved his shoulders and began again.  "My dear fellow Americans, we are gathered on this special occasion to discuss a matter of importance to all of us.  The recent spate over funding for government budgets has caused us to enter a government shutdown.  The Office of the President has had to cut expenses by over two thirds and a great many hard working every people have had to stay home instead of do the work they love to do each day.
"Many from my own personal staff were laid off and a lot of them had families and pets and children to feed.  They pay their taxes and they work hard every day, just like you and I do.  Why should they be sacrificed over the vagaries and whims of a few hundred brats in a large auditorium?"  Some shuffling of feet and light booing could be heard.
Potus continued, "I had to personally guarantee the salary of some of my most trusted and loyal staff so they could stay near me and take care of me.  My maid, Shaniqua," Potus said and pointed up to the guest gallery where Shaniqua sat resplendent in her African finery.  Potus waved and smiled while Shaniqua ignored him and soaked in the attention.
Potus continued, "And my personal chef, Monsier DeCul."  The camera and audience panned left to observe the chef in his whites and chef's hat.
After the applause had died down from these introductions Potus said, "I mention these Americans because I am reminded of why we are so successful in America.  I am reminded of the promise that if you work hard and pay your bills on time, you can have a nice job and spend some money on the weekend to do fun thing for yourself and your friends or family."
Potus smoothed out the pages on his speech and folded his hands.  "I am reminded of a conversation I had just the other day with Mrs. Beverly and her neighbour Mrs. Hatchley.  Their daughters, aged 8 and 9 were fast friends and often played together.  They are girl scouts in the same troop.  Mrs. Beverly runs troop 97 as if these young hens were her own brood.  They organise outings, sew on badges, take pledges and do everything that normal American hard working middle class families do.
"Ah, but Mrs. Hatchley thought that the amount of girl scout cookies they sold wasn't enough to win the first place prize for their district.  You see, although troop 97 regularly won the top sales amounts each year, the troop from across town, troop 144, was slowly gaining ground.  Troop 144 was selling a different mix of flavours than troop 97 and this was showing a slight edge in the revenues for their sales each year.  Mrs. Hatchley rightly figured out that the ratio of cookie orders needed to be changed in order to appeal more efficiently to the rising obesity and diabetic crisis in America.
"However, Mrs. Beverly did not want to change the successful methods that had served her and her troop for the last 19 years."
Potus raised his folded hands to display how they interlocked.  "How did they overcome their differences?"  Potus separated his hands, spreading his fingers slightly.  "They simply held their hands and prayed together like Americans have done since the dawn of time."  Potus grasped his hands together tightly.  "They prayed about it, and they called the one man who could solve their situation.  The Presient of the United States of America."
The entire chamber leapt to their feet as one.  The applause was thunderous and continued for some time.  Potus beamed.
Potus eventually raised his hands for quiet.  "Now let us all together, right now, join hands and pray."  He reached next to him and grabbed the Vice President's hand.  The Vice President in turn grabbed the Speaker's hand, who at first batted it away and made a face.  However, the Speaker soon saw that it was futile and everyone in the Chamber was holding hands.  He reluctantly joined hands with the Vice President.
Potus closed his eyes and bowed his head.  "Dear God, we come to You tonight to ask You to forgive us for our bickering.  You know that we are good people, good Americans, and that we are just and fair in our actions and thoughts.  You see our hard work every day and You reward us with Your bounty.  God, we ask that You help us break through the bureaucratic nightmare of legislation and free us from the tyranny of taking off our shoes at the airport TSA checkpoints.  We also ask that You help us in our binanual struggles with the timezones and changing our clocks.  We know that it was never Your plan to have daylight savings on Sundays during Your day of worship, and we beg Your forgiveness.  Please help us get rid of these timezones and set us free to spend more time worshipping You.
"Finally Lord, we ask that You forgive us for stopping your glorious government and refusing to disperse money to fund the paychecks and benefits of Your sheep and flock who are under my command temporarily.  In Your name," here Potus paused for everyone to join him, "Amen."
"Amen," Potus said and raised his hands to heaven while the applause thundered through the chamber.

Potus, confronting Congress, Part III

He yelled out, "Chief of Staff.  Johnson, come in here!"
"What's wrong?" They answered in unison, arriving.
"He's shit his pants, the old goat," said Potus.
"I have not," said the House Majority leader.   "I've spilt my colostemy bag."
"Oh, God," said Potus, covering his nose and mouth.  "It smells like rotting fish inside a dead venison carcass."
"I disagree," said Johnson, trying not to gag.  "It smells like sourdough after it's turned and the yeast have expired."
The Chief of Staff sniffed thoughtfully.  "Hmm," he said.  "I think it's more like the Senator needs to eat more vegetables.  Less steaks, leaner cuts of meat like chicken, and definitely more greens for iron."
"Get him the fuck out of here," exclaimed Potus waving and retreating behind his desk.
Johnson spoke into his wrist and three agents appeared.  They each took a corner of the chair the Senator sat in and carried him out tipping precariously.
"How did it go?" asked the Cheif of Staff after the room had aired out slightly.
"Like shit," said Potus.
"No, other than the incident with the colostemy bag.  Regarding the budget crisis?"
"Ah, yes, the budget crisis." said Potus.  "We'll see about that."
Potus turned suddenly and started a new subject.  "Let's call a joint session of Congress.  We'll get them together in one room and we'll give them a speech.  I'm known for my speeches.  In fact, the whole Office has been known for its speeches.  We'll give them something they can rally around and the whole nation's balance of powers will be balanced once again.  This time, hopefully, with me in control."
The Chief of Staff had taken off his glasses while Potus spoke and was polishing them.  "Sir, It's not quite that easy.  You have to be formally invited."
"Good," answered Potus.  "Formally invite me."
The Chief of Staff paled and polished his glasses more vigourously.  He said, "That's not up to me, Sir.  It's up to the Speaker of the House.  I don't think he likes us."
Potus frowned.  "Hmm, that is bad.  Tell him we'll cut a deal."  Potus snapped his fingers.  "Tell him we'll release those pictures of that poor lovesick Capybara."
The Chief of Staff said,  "Well,  I don't think that's wise..."
"Of course it's wise," snapped Potus.  "A word to the wise is sufficient.  I am sufficient."
Just then, the decorative phone rang.
Potus stared at it. The phone rang again.
"Well, go on," prompted Potus to the Chief of Staff.
The phone rang again. The Chief of Staff put on his glasses and picked up the phone.  "Office of the Staff of the President," he said timidly.
The Chief of Staff listened for a while, then handed the receiver to Potus.  "It's for you," he said in a stage whisper.
Potus looked annoyed.  "Hello?" he said.  "This is he," he answered after a short pause.  He listened for a few minutes.
"No, I don't want to buy any Girl Scout cookies.  Look, how did you get this number?"  He paused, listening.  "No, ma'am, the federal government does not deal with regional affairs like Girl Scout troop fund raising levels."
Potus put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, "Get me the First Lady."  The Chief of Staff ran off to find her.
"No, ma'am," Potus answered after listening some more.  "I think you should tell Mrs. Bradley I don't think that's very American of her.  No one should have their rights restricted in terms of number of boxes sold and what kind of cookies to offer."
"Yes, ma'am" he answered again.  "All right, ma'am, put me down for two boxes of the Thin Mints then.  All right.  All right."
The First Lady entered, and Potus waved her over.  She sniffed the air and made a screwed up face at the smell.  Potus waved her over more desperately.
"Yes ma'am," Potus continued.  "Well, I have to go attend some important business.  Here's the First Lady, I'm sure she'll help you.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes, ma'am.  You too.  Ok, then.  Yes.  Yes.  Ok, thanks."  Potus finally handed the phone to his wife and he left quickly with the Chief of Staff.

June 23

Meanwhile in the House Chambers,

At approximately 8:30 pm, the members of the House have gathered in their seats for the joint session. [10] Then, the Deputy Sergeant at Arms addresses the Speaker and loudly announces the Vice President and members of the Senate, who enter and take the seats assigned for them. [10] The Speaker, and then the Vice President, specify the members of the House and Senate, respectively, who will escort the President into the House chamber. [10] The Deputy Sergeant at Arms addresses the Speaker again and loudly announces, in order, the Dean of the Diplomatic Corps, the Chief Justice of the United States and the Associate Justices, and the Cabinet, each of whom enters and takes their seats when called. [10] The justices take the seats nearest to the Speaker's rostrum and adjacent to the sections reserved for the Cabinet and the members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. [11] Just after 9 pm, as the President reaches the door to the chamber, [12] House Sergeant at Arms stands just inside the doors, facing the Speaker and waiting for the President to be ready to enter the chamber. [11] When he is ready, the Sergeant at Arms announces his presence, loudly stating the phrase: "Mister Speaker, the President of the United States!" [12] As applause and cheering begins, the President slowly walks toward the Speaker's rostrum, followed by members of his Congressional escort committee. [12] The President's approach is slowed by pausing to shake hands, hug, kiss, and autograph copies of his speech for Members of Congress. [11] After he takes his place at the House Clerk's desk, [12] he hands two manila envelopes previously placed on the desk and containing copies of his address to the Speaker and Vice President. After continuing applause from the attendees has diminished, the Speaker introduces the President to the Representatives and Senators, stating: "Members of Congress, I have the high privilege and distinct honor of presenting to you the President of the United States." [11][12] This leads to a further round of applause and, eventually, the beginning of the address by the President. [12]

From http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/State_of_the_Union_address/ retrieved October, 2012 

Everything went smoothly, just as Wikipedia described it, except that the news censors had to bleep out the Speaker who muttered something like, "...President of the United States, asshole motherfucker." The lip readers who usually pay attention to such things were fooled because the Speaker smiled broadly throughout the muttering like a amateur ventriloquist.
"Dear my fellow Americans," began Potus grandly as the applause died down after the introductions. Someone in the back of the chambers snickered.

Potus, Confronting Congress Part II

"Johnson, remove this House Speaker before I do harm to him."
After the Speaker of the House left, Potus sat down while the Chief of Staff looked on.  The Chief of Staff asked, "Sir, how did it go with the Speaker?  I assume it didn't go well."
"No," sighed Potus.  "That wasn't what I hoped for.  We didn't get any funding and I'm sure he is aware of our plans now."
"Which plans, Sir?"
"The plans to implement a new time standard, Federal American Time.  Federal offices in New York would open at 9am F. A. T.  Federal offices in Oregon would open at 12pm F. A. T.  If someone on the east coast wants to call someone on the West coast, there wouldn't be any math.  You just check your watch."  Potus acted out someone trying to arrange a meeting.  "'What time is it?  Oh, I see, it's 4pm.  I guess that crazy nutjob in California is just now finishing his avocado and alfalfa spout sandwhich on whole grain.  I'll let him digest his greens and leave a turd stone in the toilet before we call him for a meeting.'"
The Chief of Staff nodded weakly.  He said, "Sir, we've scheduled the Majority leader from the Senate to meet with you as well.  They wouldn't want you to meet one and not the other."
"Oh really?" asked Potus.  "I'm weary.  Send him in.  I'll fillibuster this guy too."
"Certainly Sir," said the Chief of Staff retreating.
Potus stood magnanimously as the Senate Marjority leader was led in.  They shook hands and Potus motioned for his guest to sit.
"Would you like some tea," offered Potus.  "They say you old folks like tea."
"No, thank  you, son," said the Senate leader.
"Well, first of let me say that it is a great honour to meet with you and that your colleague in the House has been most unkind and rude to me, and that I am uncomfortable to know of his existence on this planet."
The Senate majority leader nodded, stroking his white beard.
Potus continued, "He was personally offensive toward you and even made disparaging remarks about your beard."
The Senate leader stopped stroking his beard and sat upright.
Potus raised his hand.  "No, no, I know.  I know.  I had to stand up for you.  Saying that a man's beard is bull semen is like calling him a liar to his face."
The Senate Majority leader spoke up.  "Sir, as you know, the Senate is a mature and stable body.  We don't allow just anyone to sit in a Senate seat, these are earned and passed down through the generations.  The House, however, is an unruly lot filled with children and charlatans of every stripe."
Potus nodded in agreement.  "You couldn't have said it better.  I personally think your beard is quite distinguished and makes you look younger than your eighty years."
The Senate leader smiled and relaxed again, stroking his beard contentedly.
Potus said, "I personally think of myself as a great joiner; one who is willing to reach across the aisle, across arbitrary boundaries and grasp the hard working hand of my fellow every person doing good work."
The Senate Majority leader continued nodding and stroking his beard.
Potus continued, "I wish that were all that was to say about the House Speaker.  He also made some horrible claims about your family and their interactions with animal byproducts, which I won't repeat for fear of upsetting you."
The Senate leader leaned forward intently again.  "Which family members?"
Potus waved his hand.  "No, no, it won't do to repeat it.  I won't repeat the horrible things he said about the disgusting acts.  I won't repeat them.  I won't."
The Sentate leader insisted.  "No, I must know, please, I beg of you, I must know to defend myself and the reputation of those around me."
Potus seemed to give in a little.  "Are you sure you can handle it?  I don't like to repeat bad things about good people and I certainly don't like to tell stories that are passed on in third-party hearsay."
"I insist."
"Woof," said Potus, exhaling.  "He toldl some unbelievable stories I don't even like to admit to understanding.  He said that your son-in-law reportedly was caught dealilng in black-market cheeses."
The Senate Marjority leader sat perfectly still.  "Continue," he said.
"Well, I told him I don't believev him."  Potus said.  "But he seemed so credible.  He says your son-in-law was mixing Gorgonzola cheese with, well, I'm ashamed.  I can't say it."
"Go on," the Senate leader prodded.
"Well, again, let me say I don't believe a word of it." said Potus.  "I just can't believe that someone would accuse a fine upstanding citize of this.  He said your son-in-law was mixing Gorgonzola cheese with Camembert cheese."
"That's an outrage," exclaimed the Senate Majority leader.  "My son-in-law is a good-for-nothing ne'er-do-well who stole my daughter when they eloped together.  However, his dealings and contacts in the Government cheese sector have been outrageous.  I've tried to protect him for my daughter's sake but now the secret is out.  I must do something about it.  I can no longer turn a blind eye to his shameful dealings."
Potus raised his hand.  "Don't worry.  Your son-in-law's secret is safe with me.  I'll help you protect the honour of your family and your daughter.  Together we can get this whole problem dealt with in a most discreet way.  Allow me to let you in our little plan."
The Senate leader leaned forward in his seat, nearly touching the grand table in front of Potus.
Potus paused conspiratorially then spoke quietly.  "We can introduce and pass a measure to get rid of all the timezones in America.  We'll call it American Federal Standard Time, or whatever you choose, and then we'll let the word on the street know that it was actually the Speaker of the House who introduced it."
The Senate leader nodded thoughfully.  "I see.  We'll blame him for bringing such a bill to the floor and he'll be discredited for life.  What about Alaska and Hawaii?  How would they function with a single timezone system?"
Potus nodded.  "Exactly, you've hit the nail on the head."
The Senate leader stroked his beard again.  "Except we'll call it the Federal American Time instead.  The House folks are Statists, not Federalists.  They would never call it the 'American Federal' time; that would be a blatant attempt to try to blame us for introducing the bill.  No one will ever suspect that we are actually the ones introducing the bill to blame it on them instead."
"Ha, ha," cried Potus.  "You are a brilliant strategist and an uncanny wit if I do say so myself."
"You do, indeed say so yourself," said the Senate Majority leader good naturedly.
"Well, sir," said Potus.  "It's been a pleasure, and I hope we'll meet again soon."
"Yes, yes," muttered the Senate leader.
Potus stood and offered his hand.  The Senate Marjority leader remained seated.
"Well?" asked Potus.
"Hmmm.  Yes, it's just that..."
"Yes?" asked Potus.
"I'm afraid I've had a problem with my colostemy bag..." said the Senate Majority leader.
"Oh, God, no," exlaimed Potus, recoiling.  He yelled out, "Chief of Staff.  Johnson, come in here!"

Potus, Confronting Congress Part I

May 22
Meanwhile in the Oval Office, Potus meets with the House Speaker.
Potus says, "Thanks for coming to see me.  As you know, I desperately hate your guts.  As much as it pains me to say so, I wish you would drop dead in a vat of acid."
"That's uncomfortable," noted the Speaker of the House.  "I came here to discuss things civily, especially since we're from the same political party."
"Oh," said Potus.  "I didn't realise that.  How nice to meet you."
"Likewise.  Now as you know, Sir, you've ignored our requests to come talk to you for the better part of a year.  I think that is a grave disservice to the country and to the balance of powers in this great nation."
"Bullshit," coughed Potus into his hand.
"Sir,"
"Sir," mocked Potus.
"Don't do that."
"Don't do that," mocked Potus.
"I think you're giving short shrift to this process..."
"Shrift?  What's a shrift and why is it short?"
"A shrift?  It's, well, um, it's a unit of measure.  Like inches or feet."
"I doubt it," said Potus.
"In any case, we'd like to discuss matters of importance for the nation regarding policy and budgets."
"I agree," said Potus.  "As I said in my acceptance speech, I'll sign two bills:  the budget required by the Constitution and one other of your choosing."
"Well, then, let's talk about the budget.  What do you have in mind?"
"Take schools, for example.  The federal government has no jurisdiction in education, so let's get rid of it.  Refund the education budget back to the people and let them spend it as they see fit.  People without children can subsidise those with children only by choice.  People with children can short change their kids as they see fit.  Everyone wins."
"But Sir," objected the Speaker of the House.  "The schools will be in shambles if we do that."
"What's the difference?" asked Potus.  "We can give them coupons or whatever for their schools."
"You mean vouchers?"
"Vouchers, coupons, whatever.  It's a metaphor for money."
"Isn't that communism?"
"Well, sure," admitted Potus.  "Communism is frightening to the average common every American.  Communism represents order, planning, and organisation.  That scares the beejesus out of good hardworking folks.  And with good reason, because otherwise everyone has to wear the same shoes and the same clothes and sing Heil Hitler, Deutchland Uber Alles!"
"Sir..." objected the House Speaker
"Don't Sir me.  I'm just getting started," Potus snapped.  "And what about the time changes in the spring and winter?  Nobody likes that.  Just leave a little earlier to go to work.  You don't have to change the clocks.  What's the progress on that?"
"Sir, daylight savings is proven to save energy and it's good for the environment.  Daylight savings saves lives and money."
"Bullshit," coughed Potus into his hand again.
"It's not bullshit."
"It is too."
"Is not."
"Is too bullshit."
"No it's not."
"Is is is, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit!"
"Is not isn't isn't isn't."
"It is," said Potus.    "It should be called Daylight Spending.  It screws up my Sundays when I should be in church praying.  I always wake up, wondering if it's really 9 o'clock or 10 o'clock.  Who can live with that?  If I'm in the bedroom and then go to the kitchen, it's suddenly an hour earlier.  How is that possible?  There's always one clock you can't remember to set and three months later you're driving in the car and you say, 'What the hell?  I haven't even left home yet?  Or is my clock wrong?  I don't understand.'  It's nonsense and it has to end."
"Fine, it won't get any support.  But let's say that we could bring that bill forward.  What would you be willing to offer as a rider?"
"A rider?" asked Potus.
"You know, some pork.  Some grease."  The Speaker of the House smiled mischeviously.
"A metaphor for money?"
"Exactly."
"No way.  It's my way or the highway.  Getting rid of Daylight Spending is its own reward."
"I don't follow," frowned the House Speaker.
"Never mind," said Potus.  "Do it or don't, nobody cares.  We spent a lot of time trying to come up with really good ways to say 'go fuck yourself' to Congress and I wanted to run those by you."
"Um..."
"Sit back relax.  Here we go." said Potus, picking up a piece of paper and putting on his reading glasses.  "Let's see.  'Go have sex with yourself', that's pretty basic.  Not very imaginative.  'Go autonomously into coitus' I like that, but I don't know what it means.  'Go masturbate selfishly' you see because it's go fuck yourself by yourself."
"Sir," objected the House Speaker.
"No, hold on.  They're getting better.  We tested all of these and the audiences in the focus group loved them.  'Go auto fellatio upon your phallus', that's for the men, obviously.  'Henceforth conjugate thyself', a little to fancy schmancy for me.  'Forever auto copulate', again, dunno what that means.  I'm sure it's bad, though."
"Um..."
Potus waved, annoyed.  "'With thine ownself reproduce', kind of Shakespeareian don't you think?    'Put your own fork in your yoghurt,' that's questionable, because no one puts a fork in yoghurt.  'Spunk up your own junk', whatever."
"Do we really have to continue?"
Potus put down the paper and his glasses.  "You see that we're really trying to say 'Screw off' as nicely and in as Christian a way as possible.  That's just a sign of respect."
"I don't think so, Sir, with all due respect.  That's just flattering someone by calling their beard bull semen."
"I've never heard that before, and I've used a lot of phrases," noted Potus.  "Don't get upset or we'll get into a name calling contest and that won't do a short squat duck phlemn turd bucket like you any good."
"It's you who aren't any good, you filthy farm animal lover.  You've clearly enjoyed the company of live stock a few times more than allowed by law in your state."
"Oh no you don't, you pig genital manipulator.  You don't dare refer to the First Lady that way."
"You don't like it do you, Sir.  The shoe has gone on the other foot now and it is uncomfortable because it's a left shoe on a right foot."
"No, sir, I do not like it one bit.  Maybe if you didn't grant cunnilingus to rodent Capybara in the middle of the night, you'd be able to speak better."
"I've never even been to South America," screamed the Speaker of the House.  "And another thing, you sick bastard.  How do you even know what a Capybara is?  There's no way someone could have figured that out without some insider knowledge."  He rose from his seat.
Potus stood up as well behind his desk.  "Ha, I don't need any insider knowledge.  I'm the man on the inside.  I'm an office.  I have executive powers of observation.  I'm able to discern what the people of America need me to see.  I'm chosen above all others to lead."
Johnson came in with the Chief of Staff.  Potus motioned him over.  "Johnson, remove this House Speaker before I do harm to him."

Potus, Layoffs Part II

"Make sure you don't fire the chef because we need to eat lunch."
Potus looked at the Secretary of State.  "Madam Secretary," he said.  You've drooled on yourself again."  She looked down at her shoulder and tried to brush at it.  "Never mind that now," Potus continued.  "How are you going to help trim our budget in your department?"
The Secretary of State slipped her hand absently into the lap of the Chief of Staff who paled.  "I've decide I can cut back on my staff and travel allowances.  I've been planning on visiting the diplomatic offices at the Adironbacks and Camp David."
"Camp David?" asked Potus.  "Isn't that where Number 43 was from?"
The Chief of Staff lept from his chair with a yelp, pushing away the Madam Secretary's hand from his knee.
The Secretary of State answered, "No, I think he was from New York; what with the whole 9/11 thing."  She turned to the Chief of Staff and patted his chair.  "Sit down you poor thing.  I won't bite."  She made her most inviting sneer face.
The Chief of Staff stood behind his chair.  "I'll stand.  Continue."
Potus became impatient.  "Madam Secretary, cutting travel cost is a fine measure.  We need some sort of reduction of staff as well.  I'm sacrificing a lot of my staff budget who are working on very important tasks.  How do you propose to cut your staffing levels?"
The Madam Secretary stared blankly.  Potus waved his hands in the air to try to gain her attention.
"Oh, God, she's going to blow," said Potus, alarmed.
"She's stroked out!" shrieked the Chief of Staff.
Suddenly the Secretary of State moved her head.  "Nonsense, boys," she purred.  "I was just taking a nap.  Where were we?"
Potus put his hands down.  "Layoffs?" he prompted.
"Ah yes, layoffs.  My favourite topic.  When I was a young lady working under Number 40, we once had to..."
Potus raised his hands to stop her.  "Ok, reduce staff by 60%.  Got it.  Someone write that down.  What time is is?"
Everyone checked their watches and their phones.
"12:45," said one.
"12:40," said another in quick succession.
"1:30," said a third down the table.
"Close enough," said Potus.  "Time for lunch!"
As they filed out, the room was empty except for the Secretary of State sitting alone.  Her eyelids drooped precariously and a thin rope of drool hung down from the corner of her mouth, connecting to the wet stop on her blouse.
Meanwhile, upstairs in the Presidential Bedroom, Potus was getting into his silk pyjamas.  He looked over at the pillows exposed by the drawn-down bedspread.  He grabbed one and padded thoughtfully out to the sitting room.  He nodded to Johnson and a younger agent guarding the door.
Johnson raised an inquisitive eyebrow.  "Sir, will there be any incidents tonight?"
Potus furrowed his brow.  "Incidents?"
"You know," hinted Johnson.  "Problems with the missus?"
Potus smiled, suddenly understanding.  "Ah, you mean unpleasantries in the boudoir.  No, there shall be no such activities tonight."  He paused.  "But I have been bad today," he muttered.
"Sir?" asked Johnson.
"Nothing," Potus said.  He made a gesture with the opened chocoate mint and took a bite.  "Where's the staff person that left this?" he asked.  "I thought we had, you know.  You know at the layoffs meeting today?" asked Potus.
Johnson answered.  "Well, sir, we had a snag with one of the, uh, the credentials for some staff.  They were marked as non-revoke."
"Non revoke?" wondered Potus.  "What the hell's that supposed to mean?  When I say fire people, we need to get them fired."  Here Johnson got a strange look on his face and tried to shake his head discretely.  Potus continued, "We need to remove the riff-raff and chiff-chaff.  Cut the fat and the muscle.  Chop to the bone!"  Johnson made chopping motions at his neck as subtly as he could.
"Merry Christmas, motherfucker!" shouted Shaniqua, appearing behind Potus.
"Ah, Shaniqua," said Potus, whirling around, nearly dropping his half-eaten morsel of chocolate.  "How pleasant to see you again, I was just saying how wonderful it is that you survived the layoffs during this difficult time."  Potus pretended to be incredibly interested in his chocolate wrapper.
"Oh no you didn't Mr. Potus Presidential Whosit," railed Shaniqua.  "We had a deal about my employment and your station in the office."  Using her incredibly long fingernaill, Shaniqua drew a big long vertical zig zag down the height of the space between them.  "You don't fuck with me and I won't be fucking with you.  But you done and tried to fuck with me didn't you?"
"No?" asked Potus as his voice cracked.
"That's right.  That's right.  You can have your chocolate, but you can't have none of this," Shaniqua exclaimed, turning three quarters profile and displaying all that not available to Potus.
"Good night, Mrs. Shaniqua," Potus stammered, and turned on his heel to leave.
"You better run away, you coward white boy," Shaniqua exclaimed after him.  "Ain't nobody gonna fire me from this place!"

Potus, Layoffs Part I

April 15
Meanwhile, in the executive conference room, Potus was having his staff meeting.  The Cheif of Staff was massaging his glasses again with his handkerchief.
"Sir, the Congress has voted to, unfortunately, halt allocations for the executive budget.  This is in retailiation for the veto blockade you've called on their bills."
Potus was annoyed.  "Did you speak to the Vice President?"
"Yes Sir," said Chief of Staff
"What did he say?" asked Potus.
"He said that they have a point and they should be upset that we haven't passed any of their bills.  They've been able to get two passed by veto override.  One of them authorises pay increases for members of Congress and the other is the spending block on your budget."
"Fucking traitor," he cursed his second in command.  "Assholes," Potus muttered at his Congressional enemies.  "I'll show them," he announced.  "Listen everybody."  Everyone listened closely.  "Today we are under assault.  We are beset on each side by the balance of powers.  This office has never felt more attacked at any time in the history of the office of the President."  Several heads nodded in agreement.  "As of today, we shall declare a formal war on what has been a friendly rejoinder or two.  We shall draw a line in the sand and say that this far, and no further, may the sloths of legislation pass."  More heads nodded fervently.
"As of today, I am going to be performing massivie cut-backs in staffing, hours and pay."  Most heads stopped nodding in agreement.  "Today we are going to batten the hatches and till the soil for tomorrow's victory.  Times will be tough.  You will be required to work for less than usual wages.  But we are in this fight together and we will not bow to the pressure of the moneychangers."
"Hallelujah!" exclaimed the Secretary of State, fainting onto the Chief of Staff's lap.    He had narrowly escaped getting his glasses crushed by putting them on before the Secretary of State was felled.
"Sir," said the Chief of Staff.  "What about all the support staff, the press secreatary and all of those people?"
"They can either be with me or against me," said Potus.  From now on, most people work for free.  We won't be making payroll soon.  They're shutting us down.  Some people will stay on, others will be fired.  Most will be laid off.  There will be more people available to stand in line at the DMV and the post office."
The Chief of Staff squirmed in his seat, trying to wake up the Secretary of State.
The Secretary of Defence spoke up.  "Sir, my staff are vital to our continued operations.  We've already cut as many staff as we possibly could.  I will need to have as much man power as possible to continue the national interests."
"Quite right," said Potus.  "The military is exempt.  The Congress jackals will never cut funding for the war effort.  Tell them we've heard some announcements about airplanes over the Atlantic.  Mention someplace scary."
"There are recent reports of possible attacks on airplanes originating from South Tajikistan."
"Good idea," Potus agreed, "but make it more believable.  Don't you have any other 'Stans you can use?"
"No Sir," stammered the Department of Defence.  "I'm actually telling the truth.  There really are reports..."
"Ok, fine, very convincing," said Potus.  "Just use some place else that actually exists, like China or Japan.  Nobody is going to believe a fake attack from some place named after a fake Turkey country."
"Fine," said the Department of Defence.
"You there," called Potus indicating the Department of Homeland Security head.  "Sleepyhead.  Wake up!"
Secretary of State jolted up in her seat, knocking the Chief of Staff in the chin.  "What?" she exlaimed.
"Not you, old hag, Homeland Security!"
"Yes, Sir!" snapped the Homeland Security chief suddenly awake and reading his notes.  "We're well ahead of schedule to increase body scans and intrusive pat-downs.  Nearly four billion paris of shoes have been inspected in the most successful security detail of all time," he said.
"Bullshit," said Potus.  "Taking off shoes is bullshit.  What is your department doing about cutbacks?"
"Cutbacks, Sir?"
"Yes, reductions, layoffs, forced retirement, no more internal office email.  Things like that."
"Well, Sir, this isn't a good time.  We've just recently given pay hikes to everyone and the unions are upset that we did not give them the 25% raises they expected.  We also recently purchased the automated intrusion prevention scanners to be used at all the regional ariports in the country.  The security threat is very grave and cutbacks could threaten our entire way of life."
"I like the way you think," said Potus.  "We'll tell them the theat indicators are all over the place and we're upgrading from yellow to orange any time soon."
"Sir," said the Homeland Security chief, "we're at green right now."
Potus grimaced.  "Well, make it blue or yellow or whatever, right now.  Next week bump it up again.  There's a serious threat to national safety from...  where?" he asked the Department of Defence.
"Mongolia, Sir," replied Department of Defence, checking his notes.
"Mongolia!  Mongolians are attacking our way of life.  The very sky that we breathe and fly is not safe.  We must have funding to meet the threat!"
Potus pointed to the Chief of Staff.  "Are you writing this down?  Or are you a Mongoloid among us, ready to attack like a sleeper cell?"
"No Sir, never, I would never..."
Potus waved at his protest.  "Just make sure you document all these threats and tell the Vice President to do his job over there in the House of Representatives.  Make sure they keep these safety issues first and foremost in mind."
"Meanwhile," Potus said, smirking and rubbing his hands together gleefully.  "It's time for some cutbacks here in the White House.  I don't think we need that many maids and manservants do you?"
"Um, ah, well, uh, that is, Sir," stammered the Chief of Staff.
"That stingy maid with those wonderful chocolates that are supposed to be on the pillow has denied me for the last time.  What do you think about that?" Potus asked the empty air in front of him.
"Well, ah, um, yes, see, well, the er, incident if you recall..." said the Chief of Staff.
"Good, you'll take care of it," Potus said.  "Make sure you don't fire the chef because we need to eat lunch."