He knew deep inside himself that he would do anything not to end up like his defeated alcoholic father. Lying dead in the hot African sun of a third world country with flies already laying their larva in his wounds was not going to happen to him. But to lose his fight to radically change the American landscape now, just could send him into a spiral similar to his father’s and lead him to a similar demise. He would savagely resist any attempt of that happening. In other words, he wasn’t going to go away quietly.
He knew that the passion that drove his father was driving him, it was identical and it was merciless and relentless in its never ending presence. It dominated every aspect of his life like radar controlling a ship at sea and he knew he couldn’t run from it. It was who he was and he knew he’d have to let it play out, no matter the consequence.
Dictatorial power was the ultimate rush for this kind of man who craved its special high. He was now the leader of the free world and in his mind his aura had cast its spell on the hypnotized masses. The American people had given him the power to control them. Well, it was of course his perception that they did, but that was all that mattered, since it was always about him as the 622nd day of the Obama Presidency prepared the American nightmare on Pennsylvania Avenue.
Special Note:
This has been taken from Now the Eagle http://nowtheeagle.blogspot.com/ a fictitious story based on factual and fictitious events and individuals. It should not be considered factual in any way. We hope you enjoy this daily fictitious tongue-in-cheek story of the Obama Presidency
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