Part Two: The Cabinet Meeting
Sometimes Taking Back Power Pisses People Off
Again, we don’t know how this really played itself out, but rumors have been circulating that this may have been the tipping point between flatulent cartoon-TV oblivion and the true destiny of statesmanship. I’ve used my imagination, as seasoned and informed as it is, to fill in the blanks:
Biden managed to find some clothes to put on– an odd combination of golfing pants, some deck shoes, a polo shirt with bold stripes, and a sweater embroidered with dollar signs. The food never came, and the valet never showed up. And whatever had been in his food, tranquilizers, mind control agents, downers, was swiftly leaving his system.
He looked at himself in the dressing room mirror, and then turned to the Secret Service Agent, who nodded his approval. “Ghetto Fabulous, sir. My kind of wardrobe. So what are we doing?”
“Clear the halls to the conference room where the cabinet is meeting, and have everybody else except them vacate the executive floor. I want clear passage. And don’t let anybody out of the building. If my wife tries to flee, lock her up.” Biden tightened his belt. “Let’s go. It’s ass-kicking time.”
Biden pushed his way through the door into the hallway and started striding powerfully toward the elevators, with Agent Little in stride, who was busy talking into his wristlet microphone, issuing instructions over the radio. Several agents surrounded the elevators and watched Biden enter the car, and knew instantly something had seriously changed.
The door slid shut and the elevator descended to the executive working floor, and as the doors opened up the EOP staff in the elevator lobby looked at Biden as he came out, their faces completely mortified.
“Good morning, people,” Biden said loudly, “as of now you’re all fired. Muster up over in the West Wing immediately and don’t come back here. Cyrus, take their badges and hard tokens, their phones, and disable all their accesses immediately. And shut off the elevators.” Biden looked around at the staff. “If I call you to come back to work, you’ll know it.” He pointed to the stairs.
The crowd of staff moved swiftly toward the stairs and vacated the floor. The only people left were the Secret Service staff and the uniformed division.
“Okay, it’s Honcho time,” Biden said as he walked to the conference room door. He reached for the door handle, and turned it, and swung the door open. The proceedings aside were still in progress.
“ …and I think we can play off of the Russian Collusion thing again, so let’s work on that,” the First Lady said, smiling widely until she saw Biden standing there by the door. “Oh, Joey, I’m glad you’re here. We were just–” she started to say when Biden raised his hand.
“Okay. This meeting is over. Everybody go back to your offices and wait for me to call you. As of now, all power sharing delegations are voided. Have the stenographer transmit that into the Federal Register immediately. No one speaks for the President except the President himself.” He looked over at the Chief of Staff and the senior EOP staff. “You guys, you’re all detained for questioning pending prosecution for treason and staging a coup. Your support staff are all terminated immediately. Cyrus, arrest these people and hand them over to the US Marshal’s office. Nobody gets released. They’re insurrectionists.”
Cyrus smiled. “Right away, Chief.” He nodded toward some agents standing in the hall, and they instantly began grabbing people.
The EOP Chief of Staff stood up. “Mr. President, I think we should talk before anything else happens here.” He tried to fein a smile. “It’s all under control.”
Biden smiled back. “Shut up, you fudge-packing midget.” He looked at the First Lady. “And as for you, dear, it’s tit-in-the-wringer time. Just what do you think you’re doing?”
The First Lady scowled. “Joe, this is really a bad time–”
“Is it? Bad time for what, interrupting your process-driven vagina diatribe? No Christmas sales at the Million Dollar Mart to occupy you? Cyrus, escort the First Lady off the premises and remove her accesses from all gate systems. She’s not to come back in the White House unless I say so, and seize her personal devices.”
He looked at the First Lady. “Out.” Biden pointed a finger toward the window. “And I won’t be home for dinner. Suck on that, you hag.”
Next Chapter: Calling The President-elect