Showing posts with label First Lady. Show all posts
Showing posts with label First Lady. Show all posts

White House Trick-Or-Treaters Get a Fright Night Flight with a Predator Drone

Washington, D.C. –

Gathered in the Rose Garden, which was temporally converted into a makeshift graveyard with styrofoam grave markers craved with the names of the terrorists taken out by the infamous predator drone, President Obama and the first lady hosted their annual Halloween party just for kids.

With the president dressed up as the Angel of Death and the first lady as a fairy godmother, the two greeted a throng of mummies, witches, monsters and skeletons at the door.

During the Halloween party a mummy walked up to the president and asked him, “Where’s your scythe, Mr. Death?”

Obama lifted up his skeleton facemask and crouched down to talk to the boy face-to-face.

“I’m glad you asked me that kid,” said Obama, reaching into his black cloak pulling out a remote control device. “Oh, here it is.”

“That’s your scythe?” questioned the mummy.

“Yeah, in a way,” said Obama as he fully extended the antenna. “But, um, its been updated.”

Soon a crowd of children gathered around the president as he begun to explain what each of the buttons, knobs, dials and toggles could do.

“But you never,” emphasized Obama. “And I mean never, push this red button unless you are absolutely sure your client is in your crosshairs.”

“What’s ‘client’ mean?” asked a witch.

“Yeah, and what are ‘crosshairs’?” asked a monster.

“Say kids, who wants to see a movie?” asked Obama, knowing it would be faster at answering the kids’ questions. All the kids lifted up their hands in the air.

“I’ll be right back, honey,” Obama yelled out to the first lady. “Come on kids. Follow me to the war room.”

As the children emerged from the war room masks removed, a frigid look was fixed on their faces.

“Well, kids,” said Obama as he led them back to the Halloween party. “What do think of my new scythe now?”

“Is one, one up there nnnow?” stuttered a child, as he pointed out to the night sky.

“Yup,” responded Obama, whipping out the remote control box and extending the antenna. “Wanna see?”

“No!” yelled out the kids as they clung to Death’s robe.

“Please Mr. Death,” pleaded another child. “Don’t call in a predator drone strike here.”

“Why not?” asked Obama from behind his skeleton mask.

“Because, we’re Americans?” answered another child.

“That never stopped me before. Why should it now?” replied Death as he began laughing like a mad man, while pushing buttons, turning knobs and flipping toggles seemingly randomly on the remote control box. Sending the children running for cover, screaming.

“I can hardly wait until I get my Rose Garden back,” said the first lady as she shut off the bathroom light in the bedroom suite on the second floor of the White House.

“I don’t know about that,” said Obama as he looked over at his Angel of Death costume he hung over a chair at the side of his bed, predator drone remote control box on top.

“What do you mean?” said the first lady, while getting into bed.

“I like the way it looks now,” replied Obama. “Did you see the looks on those kids’ faces? That look of panic.”

“It looked more like terror to me,” said the first lady.

“All their little faces peeking out from under the punch bowl table,” sighed Obama. “Looking up to the night sky for my predator drone. Let’s do that again for Thanksgiving. What do you say?”

Copyright © 2008-2011 by Robert W. Armijo. All rights reserved.

Debt Ceiling Crisis Leaves Obama Smoking, Again

Washington, D.C. –

On a personal note, the debt-ceiling crisis has taken its toll on the health of the president lately, as he has taken up smoking again. It is reported that the First Lady, Michelle Obama, was the first to notice her husband’s relapse into his old nicotine habit, one which he had worked so hard to kick since he took office.

“I knew he went back to smoking,” said the First Lady. “He’d makeup some dumb excuse. Go outside, saying he needed some fresh air.”

Later, the First Lady picked out cigarette butts from her bed of flowers in the Rose Garden.

“At first, I don’t say anything to him,” said the First Lady. “Believing it’s really not my place. I mean so long as he doesn’t do it in front of the children, right?”

However, the First Lady expressed concerned that the president’s smoking was getting in the way of his job.

“He use to say smoking helped him relax, cleared his mind. So he could focus on the task at hand,” said the First Lady. “But I doubt that’s the case anymore.”

So the First Lady decided to confront the president with a handful of cigarette butts she found in the Rose Garden.

Only their meeting in the Oval Office was interrupted by a phone call from Speaker of the House Representatives, John Boehner.

“Honey,” said a confident and assertive First Lady. “I know you’re really busy with our nation on the verge of failing to meet it’s financial obligations for the first time ever, but I found these cigarette butts in the Rose Garden the other day. Now I understand you’re under tremendous pressure, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re using this debt ceiling crisis as some kind of smokescreen. Just so you can pick up smoking again.”

Just then John Boehner called, the president placing him on the speakerphone.

“Mr. President,” said a weeping John Boehner on the other end of the line. “For the love of God, please okay raising the debt ceiling. I don’t understand, we gave you everything you wanted weeks ago.”

After hearing John Boehner’s plea over the speakerphone, the First Lady looked down at the cigarette butts in her hand and then backup at the president with her mouth wide open.

From behind his desk, the president calmly reached into coat pocket, pulled out a cigarette and lit it up.

“I beg you, Mr. President,” continued pleading John Boehner. “There’s very little time left. Approve raising the debt ceiling and put an end to this godforsaken crisis.”

“Are we clear?” said the president to the First Lady as he drew on the cigarette, its glow lighting up his face.

The First Lady just nodded her head as she slowly backed out of the Oval Office, placing the cigarette butts in her skirt pocket.

John Boehner, still weeping over the speakerphone.

“Mr. President…” sobbed John Boehner. “Mr. President…”

Copyright © 2008-2011 by Robert W. Armijo. All rights reserved.

Items Missing from The White House, says First Lady, Michelle Obama

Washington, D.C. --

Along with mini bars of soap, facial towels and silverware embossed with the Presidential Seal gone missing from the White House, Michelle Obama reported to the Secret Service today that she discovered the mattress from the Lincoln Bedroom is missing as well.

“Secret Services searched every part of the White House looking for the missing mattress from the Lincoln bedroom,” said a White House official. “But so far it has yet to be recovered. Needless to say, you can only imaging the, um, historical significance it represents to the First Lady.”

The White House went on to say that they did not want to point fingers, but the last ones seen in the vicinity of the Lincoln bedroom were the Salahis, though at a loss of words as to how they smuggled out the twin-size mattress without the hundreds of guests and security noticing.

“One of them must have strapped it to their back,” said the White House.

However, since so many lobbyists were in attendance at Obama’s first state dinner, the Salahis must have been mistaken as one of them and allowed to slip out without question.

In the meanwhile, President Obama has formed a special task force to search and find the missing Lincoln mattress.
Until then, however, it is rumored that the First Lady has ordered him to sleep down stairs on the couch until it is safely returned.

“Listen,” reportedly said the president to the special task force over the phone. “Michelle and I need that mattress back. I can’t tell you the reason why. But let’s just say, the fate of the free world maybe riding on it.”

Copyright © 2008-9 by Robert W. Armijo