6.
Let’s skip ahead a little bit. Let me think about what’s important. What has happened. What is happening. To start, I am actually the president. I’m sure there is a perfectly good explanation as to how this actually happened. Here is my best shot, or two possibly. Either the computer system decided that I was the best candidate for the job after it became self aware. Or there is the possibility that every single female voter, and gay male, tried to vote against me, but in the heat of the moment, with lustful thoughts, they pushed my button. Either way it happened. It is almost like someone lent a huge helping hand. It was a landslide. I managed to get 70% of the popular vote.
I always figured that the grass would be greener on this side. To tell you the truth though, the white house lawn is actually pretty brown. It only looks green from outside these gates. Well, it used to anyway. It currently has a rather black and charred look. Then again so does the White House. Maybe I will call it the Black house from now on. Let me take you through the paces.
Imagine the huge white behemoth of a building exploding. Do this again and focus on it. Walk the dog while projecting this image. Face the street so the photographers on the street can get a good picture of you and the soon to be carnage. Extend your arms to both sides, snap your fingers, and laugh gleefully as pieces of granite, and other building materials, stream past your glowing face. Enjoy all of the warmth extending from the blaze. Comment to yourself on a job well done, but make sure to this last part before the secret service tackles you. They don’t tackle out of accusation, but safety. They think that an attempt has just been made on your life, or that a terrorist decided to take the plummeting real estate market and try to make it that much worse. They don’t know it was you. All you.
There will be a huge inquiry panel launched to figure out what happened. They will try to find the security breach and fix it. They will chase their asses until they find an appropriate scapegoat. Funny thing about assassination attempts, even if it was fake. Instantly everyone is on your side because they think someone just made an attack against
You are probably wondering how I managed such a great feat and I will tell you. You will probably think I am a little crazy, but I’m not. At least I don’t think I am. Don’t know if telekinesis is the correct word, but it does feel right. I destroyed it with my mind. Focus is really the key. I don’t think I am a super hero, or villain might be more appropriate, but I do have something inside of me. Some really cool trick that I am just learning about. It is like growing up all over again. Rediscovering everything that I took for granted. Everything that I took to b true and accurate. All of it has jumped out the window and left me alone to figure things out for myself once again.
Hopefully nobody was inside, but I guess if someone was there I probably did them a favor. Things are going to start getting really interesting around here. I’ve got plenty of energy, and I’m sure you remember some of my views. Just think about it, I don’t think I have the time to explain everything again. I might ramble, but not just for the sake of hearing myself speak. Ok, that’s bullshit. I think I do like the sound of my own voice.
“Thank you for tuning in tonight for our 2 hour special presentation on president…” The TV drowned in static momentarily before switching off.
The Reporter
1.
“There is an odd story here. I’m not sure where it is going to end, but I do know that the road it has followed so far has taken many odd turns. Anything having to do with the current,”
“Former,” said Joe the cameraman.
“Sorry, former president becomes hard to quantify.” The journalist said.
“Yes, but I don’t know that former is the proper word either. While he might be out of office, he still seems to be controlling everything. Probably more than he did while he was in office.” Said Joe.
“I know that I can hear you, but when you are behind the camera I don’t think that anyone else really can. Besides this is my piece so can you try to keep the comments inside of that little head of yours?”
“I can try, but since it is so little, the good ideas would rather escape then be confined to a life of idiocy. And if you want the shot, you just have to deal with it.”
“I can find other cameramen,” said the journalist
“True, but most will not be able to endure the same level of boredom before scratching out their eyes or punching in their eardrums with a ballpoint pen.”
“I think that’s enough”
“I’ll say that’s your decision, being the man in charge and all, but…”
“I…”
“I know, I know. I’ll shut up now. I understand all of the talent is in front of the camera, not behind it. So, please continue,” said Joe.
“I don’t feel like it anymore. Let’s give this another shot tomorrow.”
“How many lines can you actually say in a day? Actually, how many do you ever keep?”
“Only the good ones. So for the past week? None.”
“Sweet, so it should only take, say, a couple more years, or the rest of our lives, to actually get this done? By that time nobody is going to care.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” The journalist said.
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