Hellfire Jones and the Angel Invasion

Chapter 4

PRESIDENT DAMEN PRICE:

Hot diggity! Being the president rocks! I was walking back to my Oval Office looking at my selfie with the angel for the 17th time. Pretty damn cool. Did anyone else have their picture taken with an angel? Nope. Just me, because I'm the only president there is. Who's the man! Who's the man!

I then got a text. It looked like it was a scene from one of my Hellfire Jones video games. I didn't recognize who sent it, but I immediately added them to my contacts and sent them a flashing screen reply with my picture on it to acknowledge their good taste.

I then turned back to important presidential matters. One problem with the angel picture was that the angel was a lot taller than I was. In the Hellfire Jones posters, I was always bigger than the angels. I needed to figure out who in my cabinet was in charge of photoshopping pictures.

I randomly chose Lisa Allerton, Secretary of the Interior. I doubted she was very busy.

"Good afternoon, Mr. President." She answered on the first ring. So far, so good.

"Hey, Lisa. I need you to drop everything and handle this little job I have for you," I said. "It's top secret. You think you can handle it?"

"Yes, sir," she answered. I sent her the picture along with detailed instructions. Then she started to disappoint me.

"Mr. President, you realize I'm the Secretary of the Interior? I don't photoshop..."

"Ah, ah, ah!" I cut her off. "Don't say don't. Do you think George Washington was that negative when he threw that wild party where they threw tea off the boat and started drinking harder stuff? If the founding fathers had your attitude, we'd never have kegger parties, now would we?"

"No comment, sir."

"So you'll get right on it, then?" I asked. "Great. What the hell does a Secretary of Interior do anyway?"

"Well, Mr. President, I..."

"Not interested," I said. "Hey, once you photoshop the picture, do you think we could put it on the dollar bill?"

"I really don't know, Mr. President. You might need to talk to the Secretary of the Treasury about that."

"Oh right. I knew that," I assured her. "When I think of Treasury I think of treasure which makes me think of money. That's called a mnemonic trick. Helps me remember what everyone does around here. You should try it. Anyway, when you're done with the photoshop, tell the Secretary of Money I need to talk to him right away."

"Mr. President, I..."

"Babe, I don't think this conversation could get any more boring, so I'm hanging up now. POTUS out."

With that taken care of, I entered my man cave, otherwise known as the Oval Office. This was my 'me hour' where I was to be completely uninterrupted by all the peons. I had a lot planned. First, I would tell myself how awesome I was. Then I'd fire the Secretary of the Interior. In fact, I'd get rid of her job entirely. That'd save the taxpayers a lot of money which I'd use to give myself a raise.

What sucks about my job is that every time I try to do something awesome, there's always someone telling me why I can't do it. I can't veto anything because ⅔ of Congress decides they don't like me. I can't execute people that don't like me because the mamby pamby Constitution says I can't. And I couldn't just relax and watch Walker Texas Ranger reruns because Satan was sitting at my desk.

You heard that right. Satan. All red and horned and wearing a cloak with the number 666 and a picture of a goat. What's with the goats? They're not very scary.