Wow, the President thought, what a night. The hangover was massive and the other aftereffects were just as intense. He was not feeling particularly well and he knew he had a full schedule ahead of him.
Air Force One pushed him into his seat as it pointed for Seattle. After some lackluster razzle-dazzle there, he moved on to Columbus, Ohio. It was now 10-ish and he was beat, completely and totally beat. He now had his Obama-peepers on. The beady eyes with a darker than dark underlying, that America was seeing more of these days. The more he fought the American people on every issue the more those issues etched their marks on his mug. The spring in his step was now gone as he rushed for the day to end.
Back in Washington the First Lady was hopping mad and was now on her third phone call to him. “Sir it’s the First Lady, did you want that,” his key man asked? “Can you please tell her I’m in a meeting and I’ll call her tomorrow?” He thought, hell, she must have heard about last night. Damn, you can’t trust anybody these days. Hollywood’s got me down as a has-been, a lame-duck President and now their leaking my late night trysts. Even Babs, Barbra Streisand, didn’t show up, and that in itself sent shock waves all throughout tinseltown.
After getting the message that he wouldn’t talk to her, the secured phone she was using in the blue room was pulled out at the baseboard and hurled across the room. Her throw had much better form than her husband’s fagish unmanly style and the accuracy was right-on as it completely destroyed the Queen Ann mirror above the Massachusetts mahogany tea table that was made in 1766 by a pretty important cabinetmaker. Being from Chicago she could have cared less about any of this important furniture. All she wanted to do was ring Barry’s black neck, stuff him into a garbage can and send him out with the morning trash as the 564th day of the Obama Presidency wanted to go somewhere as long as it wasn’t home.