An Exclusive Interview with a President

The invitation came as an e-mail. That was a bit on the cheap side, I thought. Still, it had an emblem on top which was pretty impressive, and also added some color to it. When I read it, I paled slightly; an invite from a real President! I didn't even know he knew I existed. That was impressive, to say the least. My mind raced; what had I been talking about in my e-mails, my phone-calls to my brother, even my neighbors? The Secret Service must have been doing some over-time on this one, listening in to all these conversations. I quickly looked at all my articles: anything incriminating there perhaps? Ah no, most of my articles are utter nonsense anyway, perhaps they had a good laugh about it.

I fully expected to be picked up by a special air-plane with number 1 or if that was not available, number 2 on the side. That was not going to be, apparently, I had to settle for a chopper. A bit of a poor show really, but I suppose even Presidents are economizing. While the chopper was waiting for me in front of the house I quickly looked through my ward-robe. Of course I had nothing suitable to wear; jeans being discarded as too casual, my wedding-dress was a bit over the top. Shorts were too sexy, and my other pants in the wash.

Since it was also garbage-day (and all the discarded newspapers neatly in a basket for the environmental people ready to be picked up) the chopper had managed to make a down right mess of the street. That I had a chopper waiting for me in front of the house had all the neighbors out, by now hardly visible in a whirlwind of brochures and newspapers. But in the end I got dressed in what I thought was appropriate for a visit to an Important Person and got in the chopper. The pilot gave me an expensive orthodontic smile and off we went in the blue yonder.

The first thing I noticed were the lawns. These were absolutely immaculate, and no economizing here. Perhaps he likes gardening I thought, thinking of my own yellowing patch at the front of my place. The large doors swung open and I was greeted by a smile. At first I thought the doors had opened by themselves, but after putting my glasses on I noticed him. The President was a lot smaller than I had thought. On TV he looks like a giant, but they must have taken the shots from the floor up. He was rather casually dressed, another thing I didn't know about him, since he always wears a suit on TV. But today it was a flowered Hawaii-shirt, shorts revealing tanned knees (but a pale dividing-line where the socks had been) and sandals. A sombrero-like hat completed the outfit. Immediately I felt comfortable with him; he looked just like all the other millionaires I've known!

After the handshaking I was led inside the hall, on to the gigantic indoor swimming-pool. I looked around in surprise, there were big burly guys hanging around the bar . After a somewhat uncomfortable frisking by one of them the President and I settled down in one of the banana-loungers with a drink and the interview could begin.

"Can I call you Mr.P from now on Mr.President?" I asked him. I always want people to feel comfortable with me you see. But asking him to call him by his first name was a bit too much. "Sure, and then I'll call you simply P." he said. (so P and P, this was going to be confusing). "I see that you are very relaxed today" I said. "Yes, we always have the Saturday off, no politics on the weekends, and everybody knows it." Somewhat alarmed I replied: "I hope not everybody Mr.P, like people who want to do this country harm" He laughed, and petted one of his pet-rabbits, who were everywhere. "Look" he started to explain, "You obviously don't know anything about International politics. I had to say "No, I don't "to that. (if had read my e-mails he would have known that)"All over the world world-leaders take at least 2 days off, as well as the people who are up to no good." he said. "Really, now that's a fact nobody knows Mr.P" I said, furiously scribbling away. This was a scoop. In my mind I could see myself selling this story over and over again. Headlines like"Top-Reporter Has Insider Knowledge" flashed through my mind. "Reporter has Petted Presidents Rabbits" No, that was not as interesting.

As my mind was wandering off towards stardom ,Mr.P decided that a barbecue was in order. By now it was getting late, and I was hungry. Potato-chips and dip only go so far. So while the sausages were burning, we resumed the interview.

"What is your opinion on Global Warming?" I asked him. "No, I don't believe in it,' he said," Where is the proof, if you look out of the window right now, it looks exactly the same as it was 50 years ago." "Well " I said, "That is not what people mean by Global Warming Mr.P, they mean, uhm, melting glaciers because it is getting warmer, globally". He looked at me in utter amazement. "Nobody has ever told me about that". Now he was getting pretty upset and motioned to one of the big sunglasses-wearing guys. "Why don't you oafs ever tell me anything?" The guys looked down at their shoes (or all the rabbits who were leaving droppings everywhere) One took out his gun. I was getting frightened. Was he going to shoot the President? Ah no, he was aiming at one of the rabbits. "And put that gun away you fool!" The President was unafraid in the face of danger, apparently. The Big guy looked disappointed. But perhaps that was how he solved all his problems, who knows.

By now Mr.P clearly had enough of all that stupidity and also looked confused. I had given him food for thought, that was apparent. In this pensive mood he invited me to see the rest of the house. We had to leave our shoes on the mat, since Mrs.P didn't like him traipsing dirt all over the place. It was very nicely done, inside. Although the furniture could do with a bit of up-dating I thought; it looked rather old. And then all those dusty old paintings on the walls, who in Darn's name were they?I decided to leave him one of my articles on Interior-Design the Easy way, that should give him some answers on how to do things.

As we were progressing along all these seemingly never-ending corridors, the sprinklers went on. My first thought was :"My hair!" as you do when you're standing next to a real President. We started running as sirens went on, towards the front-doors. As we dove into the azaleas the Fire-brigade came around the corner, sirens turned on. Pandemonium all around. People running, the big guys, blinded by their sunglasses groping around in the rose-bushes, talking in their head-sets (or so they thought, I think they were I-Pods actually, but it looked very professional). After a while it occurred to me that they were looking for Mr.P, so I advised him to come out of the bushes, dripping and all. We ran across the lawns towards the indoor-pool area, because that was where the Fire-men were uncoiling large hoses.

"What's happened?" I shouted over all the noise, tripping over rabbits. "Somebody forgot to turn off the barbecue" The Fire-man glared at me, angrily. I looked behind me. There was the culprit in his Hawaii-shirt, wet like a seal. And right as rain, the barbecue was on fire! The giants, still talking to their I-Pods, gave a yell of delight upon seeing their Leader unharmed. My hair ruined, I wanted to go home. I had to take the bus though, there was a bus-stop down the road from the Presidential House. So while all the bear-hugging was going on, I simply slipped out, they had forgotten me completely.

I did get a headline in a newspaper though: "Soaking Woman Saves President". Oh well, it was a headline!