Ladies and Gentlemen: The President

My step is professional: clipped, calm, and precise. My gait steady but not slow. I walk through an alabaster corridor with multiple picture-hangings lining the path. Pictures of men who once served a purpose and now would only be remembered on brief jaunts passed their glinted surfaces. I approach a door that many know of but do not know. No one knows what lies beyond that white expanse of wood. 1

I enter quietly as usual. This time of day, I never know what to expect. As suspected I am again surprised by my findings and roll my eyes heavenward as I march dutifully on in my quest. 2

A man dressed in a business suit is crouched on all fours in an oval office decorated with red, white and blue. The man, seemingly focused on something ground level in front of him, refuses to raise his head when he's called. 3

My eyes follow the path of the eagle laden blue carpet but the corner of the large oak desk, highly polished, blocks my view of his fixation. So, cautiously, not wanting to draw an outburst from the man, I advance. I take a wide-angle approach so I can peer around the desk and focus beyond his feet, kicking gaily against the ground. When I get within five feet of him I notice miniature, plastic, green men encompassing at least three feet in front of him. I recognize these characters; they are reminiscence of my childhood. They are the little GI Joe action figures, and it seems this man has been collecting for quite awhile. He's mumbling to himself and ramming two plastic hummers together when I touch his shoulder, "Mr. President, it's time to give your address." 4

He freezes mid-crash, his face, or what I can see of it, draws down into a ferocious scowl like that of a snarling pit bull. He tenses his entire body and huddles around his toys, shooting me a glare over his drawn-in shoulder.5

I step around him so I can have a better look at his face, giving him a wide berth, "Mr. President?" and still no response. 6

So slowly, taking one giant step forward and thinking of the better cause of mankind, I lean towards the GI Joe that is within his reach. He won't let go of the humvee, so I feel safe enough to abduct one green man. 7

Suddenly he lurches forward and whisks Joe from my fingers in a wild snatch that leaves my hands stinging. 8

"They're mine, they're mine, they're mine!" he half shouts, half whines, before using his arms in a wide arc to encircle all the scattered Joes on the floor and draw them close to his chest.9

One Joe escapes his clutches and I snatch it from the ground, my very own POW. I barter and bait him until his face registers confusion and drool dribbles from his slack lips. His negotiations have failed and his tired remarks of terrorism have left him crazy-eyed and mumbling to himself. 10

Finally, after his overworked mind has resumed its normal functioning and he again begins to spread the Joes’ in front of him, I reach into my white lab coat and remove the vial, acting quickly before his defective brain registers my intent. The same intent that is visited to him everyday. 11

The injection is brief and I readily call for support to move him to another position. Within minutes he is placed behind his desk and his clothes straightened. I bend, mother-like, and pick up all of the toys, placing them in the bottom right drawer and locking it before I leave. He never remembers me.12

As I return to the corridor, and my white shoes pulse against the marble floor, I look towards the end of the frame-lined hallway. The TV screen in front of me and to the left shows a picture of a woman talking. It is after she has finished talking that I feel my proudest. My experimental work, while not known by my peers, is a success that only I can relish in. Then she says the words that I love to hear and as I exit the room without glancing again at the colored screen I hear in the background, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the President of the United States of America”, echoing in my wake.13