54
Thursday, March 4, 2021, 2PM Eastern Standard Time
“Okay, Doc, let’s get this over with.”
“It should not take much time at all, Mr. President.”
“You know I don’t like getting examined.”
“I’m aware of that, sir. Most people don’t.”
“I’m not most people.”
“That is very true, Mr. President. Now if you could just lie down and we will get you into the scanner.”
“My old doctor, back home, he would just look at me and then write up a nice letter. Now that was a doctor.”
“I’m sure he was an excellent doctor, sir. Now are you wearing anything metal? Belt buckle, cuff links, pens, anything at all?”
“Just my wedding ring.”
“Well, maybe we should get that off just in case. It probably would not set anything off, but better safe than sorry.”
The President slipped his wedding band off and handed it to Dr. Vincent Bloombach, M.D., Admiral in the Public Health Service and Presidential Physician. The President instantly seemed to feel better, lighter, with a newly naked ring finger.
“You know, I think I feel better already.”
“That’s great, Mr. President. We’ll just stick that in the pouch with your other valuables.”
The President narrowed his eyes. “Keep them where I can see them.”
“Of course, sir.”
“A lot of people would want to grab anything that belonged to me.”
“I’m sure that’s true. Now, Mr. President, at this point we always ask the patients if they want anything in the way of a sedative, because this experience can be uncomfortable for some people. I know you are on a prophylactic dose of Adderall, so perhaps you would like something to relax you? Nothing too much, just something to take the edge off.”
“I don’t need that. I’m not weak like that. I don’t even drink.”
“Very good, sir. No sedative.”
“I don’t even need to sleep. I sleep three hours a night.”
“You told me that, sir. It’s remarkable.”
“Remarkable. That’s exactly what my last doctor wrote about me and my health. And he didn’t even need any machines to tell him.”
“Well, sir, you do have a lower back issue that you mentioned to me, which you said was affecting your excellent golf game, and I think this machine was perfectly designed to analyze that. And you didn’t want to disrobe or be examined manually.”
“Manually. No. That means hands? Not with this virus thing. Though I had it. They said I didn’t, during the election, but it was lies. But I think my opponent had it worse. That’s why he was on all those brain drugs. And the people believed me.”
“Yes, they did, sir. Now we’re going to move you back under the machine. You will have to stay still in a confined space for about 45 minutes. Many people like to close their eyes during this period. We need you not to move, so we will be putting your head into a brace that allows you simply to relax back into it. Some people even fall asleep during this process, and that’s okay too, as long as you don’t move. You’ll hear some clanking. Do you want some earbuds to drown it out? Some music perhaps?”
“I am not many people. I don’t mind clanking. And I don’t sleep.”
“Very good, Mr. President. Lie back down and we’ll get this thing going.”
“Hold on a second.”
The President grabbed his phone and began to type rapidly with his thumbs.
–<() Disloyal Democrat governors want me to stop their citizens from taking over their statehouses. They want to be saved by the Deep State Swamp. But The Transition to Greatness cannot be stopped!
“Okay,” he said, putting the phone on a table near him. The President lay back, and the nurse pushed a button, and he moved slowly backwards into the imaging machine. He now saw how enclosed the space was, and had a moment of panic. Close your eyes, he thought. He shut his eyes and relaxed.
“Everything okay, sir?”
“Everything’s great,” the President said.
“Okay, prepare for 45 minutes of clanking.”
“Let’s get it over with,” the President said.
Some humming as the machine started. Then clank. Clank. Clank. Clank.
Jesus, what a pain in the ass just for a bad back. Is this from the virus? I wish I had the old doctor back, the drunk one. Or my private doctor, the one they called Dr. Dude. He would sign anything I wrote up. No examination at all. That’s a doctor. These military guys are too stiff. Are they real military guys? The last one was. I think this guy is a phony. Coast Guard or something. Probably never even guarded a coast. Jesus, I hope they cleaned this fucking machine since the last time it was used. What if some big sweaty guy was in here? Some Mexican? Nah, this is a military facility. Do we still let Mexicans in the military? Maybe I need to issue another Executive Order. Ugh…maybe it was a black guy, the last one in here. I should have asked. They have all those jungle germs. Or even some Southern guy, sweating fried chicken all over this thing… mmm, fried chicken. I could use some fried chicken right now. Tennessee Fried Chicken. Mmmm. Gravy. Mashed potatoes. But I don’t want to think about some sweaty Southern Baptist sweating virus and god knows what else all over this machine. Think of something else. Women. It could have been a woman in here before me. Some hot number. Like my wives, before they married me, before I ruined them. Maybe that porn star. I called her Horse-Face. But really I liked her. Amazing gazongas. Fake of course. The best kind. Hey – can this thing detect brain waves? Can it see stuff I am thinking? I better not get a you-know-what while I’m in here. Shit – can this thing see my you-know-what? I shoulda asked. But how could I ask. I haven’t had a chub in months, now would be the wrong time to get one. Or would it? Would it impress them? Who sees this? Some hot nurse? Do nurses get the fake gazongas, or do they react with the medical equipment? Nurses. They should be so lucky. I’m President. They’re just a nurse. What a story that would be. For her, anyway. I’d grab this one, and I’d get away with it, too, like I always do – plus there’s doctor-patient confidentiality. But she’s not hot enough. At least it’s not a male nurse. Ugh. Talk about a boner-killer. Well I don’t want one now anyway. What can I think about… the Attorney General. What a conniving little bastard. Just the kind of guy you want in that position. Like Max King. He was a SEAL. Why am I getting a chub now? Am I gay? They say everyone’s a little gay. But not me. The Senate Majority Leader. Now that guy is a boner-killer. Looks like a turtle. I better not laugh. I don’t want to be doing this again. Then there’s my son-in-law. I heard he had a run-in with that Texas fracking guy. Good. I heard he got a chunk ripped out of his ass. Why I let him take all these jobs, just so he can fuck them up, is beyond me. Of course it’s my daughter. I can’t say no to her. I’m just a girl who can’t say no… why did she have to marry him? And a Jew? I hate Jews. They know money, though. Why’d she have to marry the one stupid Jew? So he went to Harvard. His father bought him the place. Millions. Like my dad got me out of the local school, got me into that Ivy school after two years… god, the old man never let me forget it. And I never let my sons forget I got them into their schools. God knows they never would have even graduated from high school if it weren’t for me. Jesus, Number Two is a dope. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him he was a dope so many times when he was growing up. When he smiles he looks like an idiot. And Junior… whole different set of problems there. I remember when I came to his college dorm to pick him up to go to a ball game. He wasn’t ready, was wearing a sweatshirt and a ball cap on backwards. I punched him right in the face for making me look like a chump. The look on his roommate’s face! That’s how you show who’s in charge. Junior said nothing, just changed into a suit and came along, said nothing to the roommate. We had to pay the roommate something, but it was worth it. Now Junior thinks he’s going to take my place. Ha! I’m never leaving.
Clank. Clank. Clank. The clanking began to fade as the President started to fall asleep.
Be President forever…night is falling. Everything getting quiet…now I’m rising. I’m going up up up. I am President of the universe… no one can stop me. Now I look down, to the church across the park, all the little people, like ants…they worship me with their glowing red eyes…Book of Revelation…I am the Beast, Zed said so… Now there is the man with the beard, walking out of the church… now it’s Zed… now it’s the Attorney General… no, it’s Zed, and he is rising to meet me in the dark blue sky. Now he’s coming toward me… he’s sniffing me… he’s going to tell me something… is this the end…?
“Mr. President,” the doctor said.
The President looked up, uncomprehendingly.
“Mr. President, we’re done.”
The President looked down and saw that he had a you-know-what.
“Don’t worry, sir, it’s perfectly normal…”
“Shut up,” the President said, as he rolled awkwardly away off the table.
© 2020 Nolan O’Brian