Good Morning, U.S.A.!

Taking a dip into the Swamp...

 

★★★★★ 

 

"The President is looking forward to meeting you," an aide, flanked by two Marine Sentries, greeted Ron. 

 

She said it in a rather gloomy tone, since the prospects of nuclear winter seemed to be on the horizon. The writer stood next to Barb and Dr. House, shadowed by the White House against the golden glow of the rising Sun. Patriotic pillar buntings swayed and flapped in the wind, unironically nailed to the white pillars.

 

Ron and Barb, trailed by Dr. House, followed the aide through the North Portico, surrounded by walls of sandbags. Inside the Cross Hall, they were met by two National Guardsmen, clad with beige and camo green armor. Six marble pillars rose to the ceiling, also adorned with buntings. A velvet rug, placed atop the white and black checkered floor, soaked up all the light from the room's three crystal chandeliers.

 

They continued through the building, passing by the Press Briefing Room, completely dark other than the podium and White House seal, both illuminated by a single spotlight. Deserted desks, strewn with crumpled papers and boxes, laid in the Outer Oval Office. "Have fun," one of the Guardsmen said, opening the doors to the Oval Office.

 

Life On The Flip Side

Ice cream not available.

 

A thunderous crack marked the arrival of the Mothership, emerging from the white, fluffy clouds above Las Vegas. The ship, metal panels flaming from reentry, banked right above the city, engulfing it in a large shadow. Two tri-finned steel disk-shaped fighter crafts deployed from the Mothership's hangar with a screeching roar, and dove toward the evacuation routes.

 

"Ron, before you go," Jimmy started, but was briefly interrupted. Three A-10 Warthogs, sent to intercept the Zetan attackers, flew down the Strip. Amidst the chaos, he continued, "Send my regards to the President."

 

Barb, halfway down the steps, waved at him frantically, to tell him to hurry up. Four F-47s, in a triangle formation, spearheaded by a grey Boeing E-3 Sentry, trailed the first attack group. "I'll be fine," Ron said with a smile, unable to reassure himself. The writer trailed off, "You know I love a good challenge." He watched as the casinos shook and their windows shattered, hordes of people headed toward the freeways, and the Italian ice vendors made their desperate last pleas to fleeing customers, all cast in the beautiful, afternoon desert sun.