Our President

            The buzz of patient reporters in the white house press room was growing louder by the minute. He was coming soon.

             The person they had all been waiting for walked through the door, and silence took hold of the room. The man surveyed the expectant reporters with the expression one might have if they were a thousand feet tall. He was an arrogant man. Not hesitant to show someone they were less than him. The kind of man who thought he was all powerful and omnipotent, much to the misfortune of millions.

             He stepped up to the podium, ready to give the press the information they needed to broadcast to the world. The cameras moved to capture the man's portrait. An orange, leathery complexion with conditioned straw for hair. His suits always seemed to not fit quite right. Too big in some places and too small in others. His hands gripped either side of the podium, appearing at first glance to be somewhat small for a man of his size. A large red tie was a staple of his attire wherever he went, and it was made fun of by most for its tendency to drape past his belt.

             He spoke. "We need to close the borders. People keep coming illegally from shithole countries, and it needs to be stopped. I'll take your questions.", he said. Hands from almost every reporter in the room shot up, waiting to be called upon. He pointed to a woman in the front row. "You, the one that's been giving me the eye. After this you can have a private interview if you want.". The reporter ignored this unwanted advance with discreet professionalism and proceeded to ask," Mr. President, what did you mean when you said the countries that are sending us their people are, in your words, "shithole countries"? He noticed that she had ignored his advance and in turn responded to her by saying," Next question.". The reporter added this to her notes, collected her things and left.

            "So rude. How is anyone that rude? I'm a nice guy. She must be bleeding from her whatever, otherwise she would have accepted my generous offer with a smile; like any other woman in here would.", he said. The women in the room murmured and the men shifted awkwardly in their seats. The President of the United States was vile, they knew that. It didn't make things any easier. After working with this man for almost a year into his presidency, they were still surprised at how he treated other people who were just trying to do their jobs.

            The press conference continued with a few bumps here and there, but for the most part it went smoothly. The President gave a few statements in the midst of demanding Mexico pay for the southern border, otherwise known as "The Wall". Something he had promised his supporters during the entirety of his campaign. As the conference was coming to an end, one final question was asked. "Is Roy Moore, a child molester, better than a Democrat?", said a reporter in the back row. The President answered rather offhandedly," Well, he denies it.", and left the room in a shocked silence*. After the room had cleared, one camera man was packing his equipment and gazed at the podium. He recounted the events of this morning's conference, thinking about how the President of the United States had acted and how the things he had said were outright awful. As he clicked the case shut and swung it over his shoulder, he muttered," What a dick.", and left.

*The reporter's question about Roy Moore and the President's answer actually happened. I did not make that up.