“We built the wall, Boss. All the way around the whole country. All the borders are sealed.”
The President nodded without looking away from the TV. “Nobody comes in, not even one lousy child, right?” He dipped a chicken nugget in sauce and ate it.
“Right, Boss. Not even a coyote could get through. The country is secure. What do you want us to do next?”
“Check your to-do list, Bruce,” the President said with some impatience. “I think the next item is to round up all the people who don’t belong here and expel them. The vermin and such.”
Bruce grimaced. “Uh, Boss, how we supposed to do that, with all the borders sealed up tighter than a drum? We didn’t leave no doorways. You want we should put them on planes? Fly them to Mexland?”
The President rolled an eye at his Chief of Staff. “Too expensive. Put them in camps, Bruce. And round up all the members of the opposition party, too, while you are at it. Send them to Nevada or something. I know, build some camps in the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Like to see them hike out of there!”
“Boss, how we gonna feed all them people? All them illegals work on the farms.”
“I dunno, Bruce, you’re my fix-it guy, you figure it out.”
Three months later.
“Where’s my sandwich, Bruce?” The President stabbed some buttons on the remote. “And get my channels back. What is going on in this place? The service has gone to hell.”
“Boss, we’re running out of food.”
“We! Who is ‘we’? I ordered a Reuben and a dish of ice cream. Rocky Road, to be precise. Although I would accept chocolate ripple if that is all we have down there.”
“We, as in all of us, Boss. We got no more food. I haven’t eaten in three days. The kitchen is empty. The cooks are gone.”
“Gone! Those ungrateful swine! Fire them all.”
“You said round up all the riff-raff, Boss. We did. No more poisoning the blood of rightful Americans. They are all at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Most of them are dead by now, judging by the awful stink.
“What’s wrong with the water, it tastes like piss,” the President grumbled.
“That’s because it is, Boss. Sorry, the waste treatment plants have all gone down. We found a Berkey system, and we’re all peeing into it.”
The President lumbered to his feet. “You mean to tell me, I’ve been drinking your piss? You’re fired!”
Bruce shrugged and headed for the door.
“No, wait, I was just kidding. Listen, if you stand by me, I’ll stand by you. Together, we’re making this country great again.”
“You betcha, Boss.”
Three months later.
The phone on the Resolute Desk rang. The President answered.
“Collect call from Mr. Bruce Babbitt for uh, the President of the United States.”
“Bruce? Where are you? Why the collect—?”
“Do you accept the charges?” came the tinny voice over the line.
“Hell, no! Wait, yes, I’ll accept the charges, for like two minutes, make it snappy, Bruce. What the hell am I paying you for?”
“Sorry, Boss. Hate to mention it, you haven’t paid me in six months. My phone got cut off. Same with my heat. Nobody is getting paid. What’s left of us, we moved our families into the White House basement. “
“We’re the richest nation on earth! What happened to all the money?” the President raged.
“Nobody’s working no more, Boss, so nobody’s paying taxes. We can’t even buy food.”
“Well, wait. I had a meatball sandwich today.”
“You don’t want to know what kinda meat that was in that sandwich. In any case, we are having to scrounge for supplies further and further out in the city. The grocery stores have all been looted. Most of the homes are empty and the ones that aren’t, the occupants are barricaded with stockpiles of guns and ammo you would not believe. Some serious AR-15 firepower, let me tell you. Sonny bought the farm the other day when he went on someone’s front porch to ask for some water.”
“Are they blacks?”
“No, Boss, they are red-blooded American patriots who believe in the Second Amendment.”
“Well, we need to nationalize all resources.”
“Boss, there’s no one left on the staff to do all this stuff. I haven’t slept in days.”
“This is all Jyna’s fault, isn’t it? Get General What’s His Name in here, tell him to bring the nuclear football. I’m done being the laughinstock of the world. I’m going to blow the hell out of Jyna, the PU, the whole stinking lot of them!”
“Boss, nobody knows what the rest of the world is thinking, not since the internet and the TV channels stopped working. For all we know, the rest of the world is in the same boat we are.”
The President gnashed his dentures. “I doubt that. I know those guys. They used to be on my side. They all wanted to be just like me! Ungrateful losers. I’ll blow them all to smithereens. Get that General in here, now, or you’re fired!”
Bruce picked up a phone. “No dial tone, Boss. And it doesn’t matter, I can tell you, the army, the navy, the air force, the marines, even the coast guard, have all deserted. Nobody is mannning the bases or the missile silos.”
“You’re kidding me! My generals are gone? Well, what about my diehard minions, the ones who used to buy my NFTs? The ones who believe all my lies, I mean, fibs. Where are my loyal followers?”
“Camped outside on the lawn, Boss. Eating grass, and possibly each other when nobody’s looking, building homemade bombs, and singing Kumbayah. Look out the window, see all them bonfires? Beyond those bomb craters? Those are your devoted fans.”
The President peered between the curtain. “What the hell are they waiting for?”
“You, Boss. They say you are the Messiah. They’re waiting for the second coming, you are going to make it all better, take us back to the good times, the 1950s, when things made sense and people knew their proper place.”
“Are they insane?”
“What do you mean, Boss? They are thrilled! You’ve kept your promises! You built the wall, you deported everyone who didn’t belong here, you drained the swamp! You are truly the Messiah, to these people, Boss. Sure, they are kind of inept, and they sure do stink since there’s no water flowing anywhere these days. They haven’t totally nailed their bomb-making skills, learning by trial and error, mostly error, but the one’s who are left, they are the best of the best, the most dedicated of the hordes who stormed the Capitol. They believe in your cause, even though they are starving. You couldn’t ask for more loyal troops. You got what you wanted, Boss. Aren’t you happy? They all are. Just tell them what to do, Boss. The world is yours for the taking. What’s left of it, anyway.”
