The emergency buzzer rang next to the President’s bed alerting him that something was up and his night crew needed to speak to him. This had happened only a few times since he took office and he hated it. He was the kind of person who when awoken, could never get back to sleep and God help anyone who crossed him the next day. After 45 minutes downstairs in the operations office with four of his security people and Holder on a conference call from England’s Prime Minister Cameron, he had just experienced a Royal shafting. A shafting can come in many forms but a royal shafting was special. The newly elected P.M. it seems had found out about the little undersea operation that went on in the Gulf of Mexico and he had the President in his sights. God damn, he thought, now he knows about the Soros-Iranian demolition operation that took down the Deepwater Horizon, along with the CIA and God knows who else. Then beads of sweat started accumulating on his forehead as the fear of even the right-winger Andrew Breitbart knowing. Now, that was fear that kept him up the rest of the morning.
The now beady eyed colorless President attacked Friday’s wall to wall meetings in the Oval Office with about as much enthusiasm as Bill Clinton after one of Monica’s blow jobs. His ears buzzed from lack of sleep and he had the damndest time concentrating. All he could think of was the Prime Minister’s comments about BP’s new position on retribution for the oil spill. It looked as though the thuggery that went on in the Oval office a couple weeks ago, that sealed a $20 billion slush fund for damages between the President and BP was off. It was obvious that the English people were now supportive of BP’s position. The President thought to himself, maybe I shouldn’t have returned that God damn bust of Churchill. It was clear that England’s main energy provider was not going to fall into the hands of this President and that really pissed him off.
It was now 3:40 and the five hours sleep he had over the last forty hours was not enough as he really started to lose it. His Friday meetings were now finished and he frankly couldn’t remember half of them.
This whole Sherrod firing was now officially out of control, with his administration looking like incompetent fools, again. The Right was taking a bit of a hit also but it was mostly directed at him. Sherrod was now working this thing like a winning lotto ticket and the peripheral legal community speculated that she could fleece the U.S. government and the media for at least $15 million before it was all over. She was not averse to this type of situation since she had already won a similar settlement many years ago.
The President was now alone behind his desk in the Oval Office. It was quiet with only the sound of a three hundred year old clock ticking in the background. His eyelids were now at half-mast as he perused the room from side to side. He knew he was about to nod off but he didn’t care. Sleep was all he could think about as his eyelids finally closed with great satisfaction. Then it came like a blaring siren splitting the so quiet air of the Oval Office. The sound that every husband feared from the beginning of time, his mother-in-law's shrieking voice, “Barry, Barry, where you? you here?” as he slid under the grand presidential desk in a heap as the 539th day of the Obama Presidency hid in fear?
The now beady eyed colorless President attacked Friday’s wall to wall meetings in the Oval Office with about as much enthusiasm as Bill Clinton after one of Monica’s blow jobs. His ears buzzed from lack of sleep and he had the damndest time concentrating. All he could think of was the Prime Minister’s comments about BP’s new position on retribution for the oil spill. It looked as though the thuggery that went on in the Oval office a couple weeks ago, that sealed a $20 billion slush fund for damages between the President and BP was off. It was obvious that the English people were now supportive of BP’s position. The President thought to himself, maybe I shouldn’t have returned that God damn bust of Churchill. It was clear that England’s main energy provider was not going to fall into the hands of this President and that really pissed him off.
It was now 3:40 and the five hours sleep he had over the last forty hours was not enough as he really started to lose it. His Friday meetings were now finished and he frankly couldn’t remember half of them.
This whole Sherrod firing was now officially out of control, with his administration looking like incompetent fools, again. The Right was taking a bit of a hit also but it was mostly directed at him. Sherrod was now working this thing like a winning lotto ticket and the peripheral legal community speculated that she could fleece the U.S. government and the media for at least $15 million before it was all over. She was not averse to this type of situation since she had already won a similar settlement many years ago.
The President was now alone behind his desk in the Oval Office. It was quiet with only the sound of a three hundred year old clock ticking in the background. His eyelids were now at half-mast as he perused the room from side to side. He knew he was about to nod off but he didn’t care. Sleep was all he could think about as his eyelids finally closed with great satisfaction. Then it came like a blaring siren splitting the so quiet air of the Oval Office. The sound that every husband feared from the beginning of time, his mother-in-law's shrieking voice, “Barry, Barry, where you? you here?” as he slid under the grand presidential desk in a heap as the 539th day of the Obama Presidency hid in fear?
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