"Sir? You wanted to see me," America called, entering the Oval Office. "Close the door, Jones," ordered Obama, his voice as smooth as caramel. Abiding by his order, America closed the door.
“And lock it.”
As well as locking it.
“Sir, I d—” his concerned remark was cut short by the sight that beheld him as he turned around. There the president was, splayed on top of his desk in the nude, his chocolate figure glistening as the sun’s glow hide from behind him.
The Chief held up a hand and just like that, the young nation was silenced. “Now I know this may, uh, seem rather alarming to you, Jones. But, uh, hear me out.” His voice mocked the tone of his speeches; nonchalant and calming. America only shook his head. “No sir, I…I meant to compliment on how….nice of a package you have.”
“It’s a nice stimulant package, isn’t it?”
America nodded. “A shame the Feds are trying to wind it down.”
The boss beckoned over the nation, and of course, he followed without hesitance.
Peering through the window was a peeved and jealous Romney. He took notes on the occurrence, angered at his former lover. The next day’s newspaper came as shown:
OBAMA FUCKS OVER AMERICA WITH A NOT SO IMPRESSIVE STIMULANT PACKAGE. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR THE ECONOMY?