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It was prime Executive Time and I couldn't wait to get started for another day. I had to kick a few Filet-o-Fish wrappers out of the way of the bedroom door (okay, more than a few) before stepping out and immediately saluting a picture of Captain Hook that I had hung on the wall. The crowd of Secret Service agents just outside the door let out a synchronized yell, "Remember Sailor, SIR!" and only a couple of them broke into a COVID-fueled coughing fit afterward. It was going to be a good day. I passed Melania in the hallway - she was in her standard energy-saver position with her head and chest resting against the wall. I asked her where my big boy Barron was and out of her plump, perfect lips a slip of paper fell out that read, "I don't really care, do you?" Or at least that's what someone told me it said - if only I'd bothered to learn to read.
TracerBullet fucked around with this message at 22:54 on Nov 24, 2020 |
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Nov 24, 2020 22:51
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| # ¿ May 21, 2024 13:41 |
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