Donald looked up from his laptop to get the latest posts from Fetish News, which had become the Number One site in web surveys a year after his election as President of the United States. "What do you want, Candy?" he asked his Chief of Staff, Candy Jenkins, former supermodel, 36-24-36.
"Oh, sir, I get a little tingly when you are stern. Well, sir, as you know, the Indians and Pakistanis are at war over the Indus River water supply."
Donald shook his head. "The what?"
"Yes, sir, the Indians cut the Pakistanis off last week, and the Pakistanis launched a ground war. Here, sir, it's in the news." She tried to hand a tablet to Donald, but Donald angrily waved her off. "Alright, well, take care of it for me."
"But sir, Prime Minister Modi would like an audience with you."
"What audience? Tell him I'm seeing a Bills game this weekend. He can join me for that. Wait. Prime Minister who? Which side is he on?"
"No no sir, I mean, he wants to have a summit with you."
"I don't do mountains."
"I'm sorry sir, what I mean is, he would like to discuss with you the particulars of the Indus water crisis."
"Do this. Call Peter Brabeck-Letmathe. He's the CEO of Nestlé. Terrific guy. His wife is a 10 at least. Well, I think she is. I may be thinking of somebody else's wife. Call him. He's terrific. Nestlé has some terrific water. They own all the water. Did you know that? Call him, and he'll fix the water problem there."
Donald shook his head, and as a refund he had been expecting from the local coffee shop festered in his head, he could feel anger course through his veins as he looked back at his laptop, viewing images of girls' feet.
"Yes sir, I will do that."
Donald looked up again, and nodded. He was slightly annoyed by Candy's attire. "Can you wear something a little tighter tomorrow? A shorter skirt, too. Not enough thigh."
"Yes sir. Thank you sir."
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