Stressful times, these days. Here's a little something to make you laugh, or maybe smile, or at least frown a bit less. If the response is favorable (meaning if there is a response), I'll post the rest of it next Friday. Literary criticism is welcome and encouraged, as long as it's constructive. It should be noted that any similarities to any Presidents, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Enjoy! (Seriously, I command you to enjoy this.)
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mister President, but there's a mad--a man on the secure phone demanding to speak with you."
The President of the United States of America looked up from his desk, where he was reviewing the latest bills from Congress. "I'm up to my eyeballs in bills here, Ted. This National Fluffy Kitten Day bill is a real hot potato. Can't the Vice President handle it?"
"The man said he would only deal with you, sir. He sounds serious." Ted glanced around the empty room and lowered his voice. "I think he might...he might be a terrorist, sir."
The President rose up at once, knocking back his chair and gripping his bill-signing pen like a dagger. "A terrorist?!" He leapt over his desk, scattering bills and reports across the floor. "Why didn't you say so?" He grabbed Ted by the arm and ushered him to the Secure Phone Room, barely pausing to smile and wave at the tour group in the hallway.
In the Secure Phone Room, sixteen generals and their aides were already seated around the long polished table. When the President made Ted throw open the door, the room fell silent except for the tinkle of many tiny medals as the generals turned to look at their Commander In Chief.
"What's the situation, gentlemen?" said the President. Supreme General Moss stood and gave the President a grave look. "Mister President, there is a man on the secure phone demanding to speak with you."
The President nodded gravely in return, and picked up the Secure Phone. "What line is he on?" he asked.
"He's on line 4, sir," said Supreme General Moss. "But if I may suggest...could you put him on the speaker phone so we can all hear?"
The President set the phone down and stabbed the button for line 4 with an authoritative finger. "Hello, this is the President," he said.
"Finally!" exclaimed the speaker phone. "I've been on hold for half an hour, and I got transferred seven times! Well, I suppose that's not your fault, but it was very annoying. Anyway, down to business. Mister President, my name is Dr. Marvin Granger. I used to work for a government research lab, where I built doomsday devices for the Army. After doing a lot of soul-searching, I decided to leave the government's employ...but not before taking a few of the devices home with me. Do we understand each other so far, sir?"
The President nodded, and one of the generals cleared his throat meaningfully. "Yes," said the President aloud. "You want to know where to return the devices. If you'll give me your address, I'll send someone by to pick them up tomorrow."
"No, sir. I have no desire to return the devices just now - I plan to use them. In fact, I intend to use them, unless we can come to an agreement."
"I see," said the President. "How much money do you want?"
"Money?" the speaker phone laughed. "Mister President, I already have money. In fact, thanks to some carefully-placed investments in the military industrial sector, I have everything I need in the material sense. No, I'm not after money. I'm interested in change, sir. That's the one thing my money can't buy. Real, positive social change for our country and its people. I realized a while ago that I could never amass enough money or influence to fight the powers that be through spending or lobbying, so I decided a more direct approach was needed."
"Doctor Granger," the President cut in, "if this is about the National Fluffy Kitten Day bill, let me first assure you that I am giving serious consideration to all sides of the proposal, and--"
"What the hell are you talking about?!" interrupted the speaker phone. "National Fluffy--" The speaker phone made indignant snorting noises. "Never mind. This isn't about some meaningless puff-ball bill. This is about changing the fabric of our society with a very sharp pair of scissors." The speaker phone paused and took a deep breath.
"Mister President, I want you to recall all personal firearms."
Almost to a man, the room gasped and murmured. Heads shook, hands wrung, and grave looks flew in every direction.
The President held up a hand, and the room quieted. "Dr. Granger, your anti-kitten sentiments are clear, but I fail to see how you expect recalling our nation's guns to help the situation. Besides, what you're asking is impossible. It would violate the Second Amendment of the Constitution of these United States, and it would leave our citizens defenseless and unable to shoot anything." The generals and their aides nodded vigorously in agreement.
"Mister President, I'm a firm believer that nothing is impossible if a person - or a group - is sufficiently motivated. I do not make this request lightly, and I cannot accept no for an answer. The Second Amendment is a relic - a very important paragraph two hundred years ago, but deeply harmful today. We are no longer a frontier, and we no longer have to hunt for our food. We no longer need citizen militias - the police and armed forces are our designated protectors. This country has over a quarter billion registered weapons, enough to arm every single citizen. We have the largest incidence of shooting deaths of any nation in the world - over ten times higher than the closest competitor."
The President made the `blah-blah-blah' motion with his hand. The generals smirked and their aides tittered behind their hands as the speaker phone continued.
"Guns exist for only one reason, Mister President - to kill. They are one of the greatest dangers this nation faces, and despite years of peaceful lobbying to make them harder to get, the gun lobby always wins. They are a very loud, very well-financed minority who put their selfish paranoia and short-sightedness ahead of the common good. You are the president, Mister President. You have the power to make a real, lasting, and fundamentally beneficial change. All I'm doing is giving you an incentive to do so. Other nations manage to live without guns in every home, and so can we."
"You make an interesting case, Dr. Granger. Tell you what. I will discuss this idea with my staff, and if we feel it bears further investigation, I'll personally appoint a committee to investigate the idea further," said the President. A few generals shook their heads in dismay, but the President winked at the room and motioned everyone to keep quiet.
"Mister President, it seems that I've failed to make myself clear. I'm not asking you to think about thinking about looking into the problem. I'm telling you. Get. Rid. Of. The. Guns. I don't expect immediate results, but I do expect results. I have several very unpleasant weapons at my disposal, and although I'd rather not use them, I will if needed. And I am very much aware of the irony, so you needn't bother pointing it out."
"What irony are you talking about?" asked the President.
"The...irony of using weapons as leverage in my request to rid the country of its weapons."
The President stood in thought for a moment, and a few generals murmured to themselves. "Oh yeah," said one. "That is pretty ironic," said another.
The President waved them to silence. "Dr. Granger, you'll find that I'm a man who doesn't respond very well to threats - even vague threats really bug me. Why, just last week a man gave me the finger after my limo cut him off in traffic, and I had the Secret Service drag him from his car and--"
"I'm sorry, Mister President," the speaker phone interrupted. "I had hoped we could do this without a demonstration, but...here goes." A few muffled clicks and beeps came from the speaker phone, followed by silence.
"Um...what just happened?" asked the President. He looked around at the generals, who looked at each other and shrugged.
"Go outside and take a look," replied the speaker phone. "I'll wait."
The President snapped his fingers. Three generals snapped their fingers. Six aides jumped up and ran out the door. A few moments later, they returned.
"The lawn is dead, sir," said one of the aides. "It's all brown."
The President looked over at Ted, who sat in the corner reading a book. "Ted!" he thundered. "Go tell the gardening staff to stop skimping on the water. I don't care if there's a water shortage; I'm the President, dammit!" Ted jumped up and began to fly out the door, but before he could finish, the speaker phone cleared its throat impatiently.
"That was the weapon, sir. Every plant within a ten mile radius of the White House is dead. All the grass, all the shrubs, all the flowers...everything."
The President's jaw hung open. "Even...even the trees?" he said.
"Yes, sir," replied the speaker phone. "Even the trees."
"You monster!" The President pounded his fist on the table. "You unspeakable monster!"
"I didn't want it to come to this, sir, but I trust I have your full attention now. Let me summarize it for you. I want you to get rid of all personal firearms. Handguns, shotguns, semi-automatic assault rifles, all of it. The police and the military can keep theirs, as long as they're used responsibly. You have until the end of the year - six months - to make this happen. Do whatever it takes - buy them back from people, melt them down, ban all future sales. This is the first of several changes you'll be making for the common good. I'd strongly recommend you get it right the first time, and the rest of the changes will go much more smoothly.
"As a show of good faith, and proof that I don't intend to keep doing this forever, I will return one device for each change you complete to my satisfaction. Thank you for your time, sir. I'll be in touch. Goodbye." The speaker phone clicked and went dead.
The President gripped the edge of the table. All around him, the generals shouted feverishly.
"You can't do it, sir!"
"He's clearly a madman!"
"Insane!"
"He must be stopped!"
"I just planted summer squash!"
The President slowly drew himself erect, and a steely glint appeared in his left eye. "Shut up!" he roared over the din, and the room fell silent. "Here's what we're going to do. I want you to find this man. I don't care what it takes. Find him." The President lowered his voice to a growl. "And when you find him, I want you to kill him. A lot. Shoot him, and let him think about the irony of that for a while!"
*
A global search began that very day. Scientists, researchers, computer nerds, and every person with the last name Granger were all rounded up and detained for questioning. The President's phone conversation was classified top secret, and a complete transcript was posted on the internet the following Wednesday.
Two months later, Supreme General Moss stood before the President, a dejected look on his face.
"Sir, we have to call off the search."
The President stood with his back to the Supreme General, staring pensively out the window. "Call off the search? Now? We are this close to finding him, Pete. I want him. I will have him. This nation's lawns will not be made a hostage to a nut job with a radical agenda and a few doomsday weapons." The President turned from the window. "Do you hear me?"
"I'm sorry, sir, no. You were mumbling into the curtains again."
The President sighed. "I want him, Pete. I told you I don't care what it takes, and I mean it. I don't care with every fiber of my being."
"With all due respect, sir...we've already fenced off the state of Delaware for use as a detention center. People are starting to complain. Schools want their science teachers back. Companies want their computer staff back. We have ten thousand Grangers filing a class-action lawsuit against us."
"Supreme General Moss...." The Supreme General snapped to attention. The President was silent for a moment. "You have your orders. See that they are carried out."
*
Two more months later, Supreme General Moss stood in front of the President again. The dejected look on his face was gone, replaced by a slightly more dejected look. Around him stood the President's top advisors.
"Mister President, we must call off the search," said the Supreme General.
"We are this close to finding him," said the President. "I just know it."
"No, sir, we are not. We have searched long and hard. We can't find him. With all due respect, Mister President, the other staff members and I are starting to worry that you might be...obsessing over this a little bit too much. In an unhealthy way. That's why we've all come to see you today. Because we all care about you, we are having...we are having an intervention, sir."
The President leaned forward across his desk and glared a hole through each and every person in the room, even the ones in the back that he couldn't see very well. His jaw tightened, his fists curled, but he said nothing.
"Sir," said the media advisor, "We're getting eaten alive by the press. They've got cartoons of you strangling the Statue of Liberty with the Constitution. There are too many of them for us to buy off this time, sir. Please reconsider."
"We've spent just over 500 billion dollars on this search in the last four months," said the President's personal economist/barber. "The Treasury is printing new money 24 hours a day, but they can't keep up. If we don't call off the search now, I'm afraid we might run the risk of causing serious harm to the economy."
The President dialed his glare back to a glower, but still said nothing.
"Public opinion has shifted, Mister President," said the pollster. "For the first few days, people were generally in favor of our efforts, but about two weeks into it they started to get restless. The latest polls show that `We just want our lives back' leads `Keep looking' by 87 points."
"Police departments all over the country have reported people bringing in boxes of guns and leaving them," said the image advisor. "Sir, I think we have a way to turn this into a win. It's not pretty, but it could mean the difference between re-election and being dragged from your limo and lynched by an angry mob."
The President sat down and folded his arms. "Fine," he said. "If you're so smart, tell me what you think we should do."