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The President – Episode 109

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 01/10/2011

Through a series of unfortunate tragedies, 27-year-old Deputy Secretary of Transportation Holden Jackson has become the youngest President in the history of the United States.

Episode 109 – My Mum Is The Best Mum

(President Holden Jackson saunters into the Oval Office — joined by Chief of Staff Wilbur Chamberlain — and nearly trips over a footstool, before regaining his balance..)

Jackson: Whoop, almost Van Dyked it.

(Holden then proceeds to sit down at his desk and flips over onto his back..)

Jackson: Oy! Me arse!

Chamberlain: (sitting down across from the President)  I see you’ve been working on your British slang for tonight’s festivities.

Jackson: Well, it’s not every day that Mrs. Chamberlain graces us with her presence. Gotta make a good first impression.

Chamberlain: Mr. President, you really didn’t have to go to all this trouble for my mum’s birthday.

Jackson: Nonsense, Wilby. It’s my honor.

Chamberlain: It’s just that, renting out an entire aircraft carrier docked in the harbor for a public official’s mother’s birthday–

Jackson: (correcting his top advisor)  Birthday gala.

Chamberlain: It just all might seem a bit lavish to Joe Taxpayer.

Jackson: Nah, I think it’s a write-off if you do it on a boat. Ooh! We should take it out into international waters and have fights to the death!

Chamberlain: I don’t think that’s quite my mother’s style.

Jackson: Right, right. Gotta keep thinking like an old British lady if we wanna get this right.

(Holden dons a pair of glasses and a wig..)

Jackson: Time for tea and crumpets, eh Gov?

Chamberlain: Oh dear.

~~~

(That evening Holden, Wilbur and Vice President Gary Busey show up on the D.C. docks standing before the towering USS Deathkiller joined by their dates; respectively, Washington Post reporter Jessica Sanchez, Dame Margaret Chamberlain and an East Washington hooker..)

Chamberlain: Wow, what a sight!

Dame Margaret: Good gracious! All this for a little old lady from Langshormshire?

Jackson: (grabbing Dame Margaret by the shoulders)  Oh, poppycock! It’s not every day my best friend’s mom turns…twenty-one.

Dame Margaret: (waving a dainty handkerchief)  Oh, Mr. President.

(A man in full Naval regalia joins the group as they board the ship and he salutes the President..)

Apple: Mr. President, I am Captain Ralph Apple, commander of the USS Deathkiller. My men and I are honored to be hosting Mrs. Chamberlain’s birthday party this fine evening. Anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.

Jackson: (claps a hand on the Captain’s shoulder)  Capt. Apple, just show us where the booze at.

Hooker: That’s what I’m talkin’ about!

Busey: Bitch, I ain’t payin’ you to talk!

(The Chamberlains stand aghast, staring at the Vice President who quickly turns back to his date..)

Busey: I’m paying you to dance. Because…you’re my dancing teacher. Shall we?

(VP Busey leads his hooker onto the dance floor, angrily whispering in her ear while the President pops an hor d’oeuvre in his mouth..)

Jackson: Nice save, Gary.

Chamberlain: I’m gonna show my mum around; introduce her to some people. Will you two be alright here alone?

Jackson: (nods)  Yeah, the Secret Service’ll tackle anbody if they try to punch me. Right, guys?

(The President turns to find his SS men boogieing with a bunch of girls on the dance floor..)

Jackson: Hmm. Eh, we’ll be fine. I wouldn’t worry about us, Wilb–  (turns back around)  Well, where’d he go?

Sanchez: (double-fisting two glasses of champagne)  Away.

Jackson: Hey, Jessica. Thanks for coming on this date with me. Would’ve really sucked to show up stag.

Sanchez: It’s not a date. I just wanted to see how the Jackson Administration was fleecing America this week.  (hiccups)

Jackson: Whatever, Brokaw. Hey, wanna hear my Brokaw impression?

Sanchez: No. How much did that ice sculpture of you cost the American taxpayer?

Jackson: That’s not me. It’s supposed to be Mr. Bean.

Sanchez:

Jackson: He’s very important to the English. And I’ll have you know this entire bash was privately funded.

Sanchez: By who?

Jackson: Whom. The British say ‘whom’; because it makes them sound more pretentious.

Sanchez: Whom paid for this party?

Jackson: It’s a gala. And you actually would’ve wanted to use ‘who’ there.

Sanchez: (spilling champagne)  Just answer the question, Holden!

Jackson: Jeez, why does everything have to be an investigative report with you?

Sanchez: Because I’m an investigative reporter.

Jackson: Can’t we just have a nice date together, here under the stars on my best friend’s mom’s birthday?

Sanchez: For the last time, Mr. President: This isn’t a date.

Jackson: Lemme paint a picture, Sanchez. We’re on a romantically rocking boat under the stars on a moonlit night, being serenaded by Michael Bubbles.

Sanchez: Bublé.

Jackson: Surrounded by classy Englishmen. I’m in a fancy tux and you’re in a crazy hot dress that’s got me reciting every Farrelly Brothers movie in chronological order in my head.

Sanchez: Why would my dress be making you do that?

Jackson: It’s just something I do sometimes when I’m trying not to get a boner.

Sanchez:

Jackson:

Sanchez: I’m gonna go get another drink.

(Holden stares at Jessica walking away and mumbles under his breath..)

Jackson: Me, Myself & Irene; Osmosis Jones; Shallow Hal; Stuck On You

~~~

Chamberlain: Sir, we might have a problem.

Jackson: It’s a party, Wilby. Let’s worry about problems tomorrow. Have you met Mr….

Higginbotham: Higginbotham. Sir Reginald Rutherford Higginbotham III, Esq.

Jackson: (chortles)  Everything he says is hilarious. Look at those muttenchops! This guy…

Chamberlain: Sir, there is a gentleman asking for you towards the front of the boat. He seems to be in some Middle Eastern garb.

Jackson: (claps his hands together)  That’s gotta be the stripper. Let’s get this shit poppin’, Wilbur!

(Holden and Wilbur head to the front of the boat, where they are greeted by a man in Saudi Arabian garments and Holden excitedly shakes his hand..)

Jackson: Akbar! Sweet bisht, lookin’ sharp. Wilby, why didn’t you tell me Akbar was here! This is the old sonuvabitch who funded this whole dang shindig. Akbar, I thought you were gonna be a stripper.

al-bin-El Amin: Pardon?

Chamberlain: (grabbing Holden by the arm)  Mr. President, can I speak to you for a moment?  (drags Holden aside)  Holden, do you know who that is?

Jackson: Yeah, that’s my boy Akbar.

Chamberlain: That is Akbar al-bin-El Amin.

Jackson: I know, right? That’s why I just call him Akbar. Sometimes I call him Akbar McTonguetwister, but I don’t think he gets it.

Chamberlain: How long have you known this man?

Jackson: (shrugs)  I dunno, pretty much since I became President. He was actually one of the first people to ring me up and congratulate me. Such a gentleman; a real class act.

Chamberlain: Akbar al-bin-El Amin is a Saudi Arabian oil man with ties to numerous terrorist organizations. He has funded dozens of terroist attacks. He’s on the FBI watch list. How did he even get here?

Jackson: Oh, I just had Air Force One go pick him up.

Chamberlain: (aghast)

Jackson: What? I wasn’t using it.

Chamberlain: So you’re telling me that not only is my mother’s birthday party being paid for by a terrorist financier; but that you have a long-standing relationship with the man and he’s been flown about to and fro on the taxpayer’s dime?

Jackson: You should see this watch he got me. Dude’s loaded.

Chamberlain: (grabbing Holden by the shoulders and shaking him)  Are you listening to what I’m telling you? That man is a terrorist!

(The two turn back to see Akbar and his two heavily-armed bodyguards staring at them coldly..)

Jackson: Eep.

~~~

(Capt. Apple is steering the USS Deathkiller and all the partygoers out into international waters, per Akbar al-bin-El Amin. Jessica Sanchez is tied up next to an apologetic President Jackson..)

Jackson: Gotta say, I did not see this coming.

Sanchez: Your stupidity might have finally killed us all, Mr. President.

Jackson: (glances down the line at Dame Margaret)  You still havin’ a fun time, Mrs. Chamberlain?

Dame Margaret: Heavens, no!

Jackson: Dammit. Now this night really sucks.

Chamberlain: What are the American people going to think when they discover the President of the United States has been taken hostage?

Jackson: Don’t worry about any of that, Wilby. I took care of everything before we left.

Chamberlain: Now I’m more worried. Please elaborate, sir.

Jackson: I put a mannequin in my seat in the Oval Office, so if you’re outside it looks like I’m working really hard.

Chamberlain: That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.

Jackson: (scowls)  You’re the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!

~~~

(Two tourists are peering through the fence at the White House. The lights are off except for the Oval Office where they see the mannequin..)

Tourist #1: Wow! Look at how hard the President is working!

Tourist #2: What a world leader!

(A janitor bumps his vacuum cleaner into the corner of the Resolute Desk and the mannequin’s head pops off and rolls onto the carpet..)

Tourist #1: Oh my God! The President’s head fell off!

Tourist #2: The President is dead!

~~~

(President Jackson smiles, leans back and stares up at the stars..)

Jackson: Yup, nothin’ to worry about..

TO BE CONTINUED..

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