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.
Inside,
the President spoke to a general, evident by his dark green uniform with two
stars on his shoulders. He held his peaked cap in his hands, and stood next to
the Undersecretary of Agriculture for Farm Production and Conservation, Leslie
Marshall. The only reason Ron knew her was because she was nearby and intact
during the recent hive mind scare.
"Mr.
President, with all due respect," the general hesitated. "The Supreme
Court has ruled that you cannot use the Space Force's fleet to destroy the
planet."
The
President slammed his fist on the iconic Resolute desk, sending some of the red
"Trump 2080" hats flying off of it. "I can do anything I
want," he replied. "I could destroy this country, but I choose not
to, every single day." He paused to let it soak in.
Dr.
House, leaning on his wooden cane, mumbled," Humanity is overrated."
"I
take it you wanted to see me, sir," Ron interjected. He looked around the
room for a bit, in awe at the amount of golden fixtures on the wall.
"I
need you to write the aliens out of the story," the President said
bluntly, sitting back in his chair. Ron turned around to look at Barb, who
shook her head no.
"Mr.
President, I appreciate the offer, but my respectful answer is
'No.'"
"It
wasn't an offer," the President smiled. "It's either, 'Yes,' or
you're dead."
"Okay,
I'll do it," Ron replied.
The
President flashed a million dollar smile, and stood up to shake Ron's hand. He
said, happily, "So, it's sealed, then."
"Hope
to see you all at the Special Congressional Ball on Friday," he added on.
As Ron, Barb, and Dr. House left, he said to the general, "I need you to
mobilize the U.S.S. Independence."
Getting
into a separate black Cadillac Escalade, Barb and Ron shared one last fleeting glance. He knew he
had screwed up.
★★★★★
Written
by Jerry Zervas on 3/13/26.
DO
NOT USE UNLESS GIVEN PERMISSION BY ME (i.e. email me)
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