Wednesday, June 16, 2010

7:15 A.M. Wednesday June 16th 2010 Malia’s Bedroom

He hugged Malia extra long this morning before she ran off to join Sasha for school. This was one of the few moments he had during these busy days to at least get a whiff of her clean hair. This was not going to be a good day for the young President who delivered the worst Oval Office speech ever. He went to bed thinking it was so-so but after reading this morning’s reviews he might as well go out and shoot himself in the side portal. Even his bought and paid for mainstream media attacked with unbridled scorn.
As he reviewed the video of his speech like a losing quarterback of the big game he felt himself sinking into a funk. God, he thought, my skin looks yellow and my ears, shit my ears, sticking out there, ugly and with no support, like me. When are they going to contact me?
General Petraeus, the one man in America that has the power and balls to throw him in jail, survived his little fainting spell on the Hill yesterday, much to the President's chagrin. Ironically that little ditty was at the top of the president’s need to know morning update. Of course the President already knew this. He was instructed before he took office to made it a priority to know everything about the General, where he goes, who he meets and why, especially why.
The late morning meeting with the BP people went as planned but he knew he had a weak showing. He felt himself sinking, sinking into somewhere he hadn’t been in years and he knew just how to get out of it quickly. “Susan, Susan I need that bag.” “The bag sir?” “Yes, the bag.” “Mr. President, are you sure about this?” “Oh yeah, I’m sure.” As she bent at the waist with her ass facing the President while opening a lower draw in her desk he couldn’t help but think, how sweet she’d be……..
He quickly erased the thought as an image of Michelle entered his mind with a 36 inch machete chopping his big fat dick off.
“Here you are sir,” as she handed him a small brown paper bag. He grabbed at it like a long-lost lover. Susan looked at him with displeasure as he moved quickly with his treasure tucked under his perfectly pressed blue suit. As he locked the door behind him in the Lincoln Bedroom his only thought was escape and escape was now only moments away.
He sat at the head of the bed with the contents of the bag spread all over the night table. He lit a match and placed a long object into his mouth while sucking on it with a rush of pleasure beyond compare. That first hit of smoke sent his mind whirling. “Yeah, that’s my baby” as he smiled. ”Yeah, that’s my baby” he repeated as the second exhale emerged from his mouth.
No sooner did that second exhale leave his lips, a thunderous banging on the door scared the hell out him. He could hear Michelle shrieking “Barry, Barry, you in there? God damn you, are you smoking again? You promised.” As a belch came up from yesterdays nearly forgotten fish sandwich he had in the Gulf, the President puked on this 502nd day of the Obama Presidency.

Special Note:
This is 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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