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The President – Episode 302

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 03/25/2011

Through a series of unfortunate tragedies, 27-year-old Deputy Secretary of Transportation Holden Jackson became the youngest President in the history of the United States. Now he’s at war with Canada..

Episode 302 – The Would-Be Hero

(President Holden Jackson and Chief of Staff Wilbur Chamberlain are taking a walk across the National Mall, under heavy military security detail..)

Jackson: So I’m thinking the guy who graffitied the first mural did the second one as well.

Chamberlain: The one on the Washington Monument of Alex Trebek punching you in the face?

Jackson: Yup. I didn’t even know Trebek was Canadian.

Chamberlain: Yes. That’s why we canceled Jeopardy.

Jackson: I was always more of a Price Is Right guy, myself.

(Holden hands Wilbur a small wrapped box..)

Jackson: Happy Birthday, buddy.

Chamberlain: Oh, Mr. President. You didn’t have to do this.

(Wilbur happily unwraps the package to find a DVD entitled The Holebit by J.R.R. Pokin’ with a picture of a woman’s spread asshole on the cover. He quickly tries to stuff it back in the box as a mother and her children pass by, smiling at the President..)

Chamberlain: Sweet Jesus, Holden. What is the matter with you?

Jackson: What? I know how you like all that Lord of the Rings fantasy crap. I thought you’d get a kick out of it.

Chamberlain: It’s not exactly my style.

Jackson: (snatches the package back)  Fine, I’ll watch it. (peruses the back cover)  Hey, “Directed by Peter Jacksoff.” He’s good.

(Before the Secret Service can react, a Canadian Nationalist rushes towards the President with a brick in his hand..)

Nationalist: Long live Canada! Die, you imperialist pig!

Jackson: Eek!

(Holden grabs Wilbur and throws him at the Nationalist, who conks Wilbur over the head with the brick before being tackled by the Secret Service..)

Chamberlain: (lying on the ground, groaning)  Ohh, bother.

Jackson: (kneeling over his Chief of Staff)  Hehe. Happy Birthday, buddy.

Chamberlain: (passes out)


(In Langevin Block, Canadian Prime Minister Clark Clarke is chasing a young temp clerk around his desk when he is interrupted by his secretary, Margaret Margarets..)

Temp: Tee hee! Tee hee!

Clarke: I’m gonna getcha!

Margarets: Mr. Prime Minister.

Temp: (giggles and bounces her way out of the office)

Clarke: Aw, I almost got her.

Margarets: Sir, it’s been days. General Peters and his men are stationed outside of Chicago, awaiting your orders.

Clarke: (straightening his tie)  Right, Chicago. Well, it would be a valuable asset. Would it not?

Margarets: I believe so, sir.

Clarke: And we’ve come this far, have we not?

Margarets: We have, sir.

Clarke: Oh, why the heck not? Let’s take Chicago.

Margarets: Very well, sir. I’ll notify the General.

Clarke: And call another temp in here. I’m still in a chasin’ mood.

(A brunette twentysomething bounds into the office and starts circling the PM’s desk..)

Temp: Tee hee! Tee hee!


(At George Washington University Hospital, President Jackson is seated next to an unconscious Wilbur; and they are soon joined by Secretary of Defense Gary Busey and Fox News correspondent Jessica Sanchez..)

Busey: Oh no, what happened to Wilton?

Sanchez: Is he going to be alright, Holden?

Jackson: (racked with guilt)  I don’t know. The doctor said he got bonked pretty good on the noggin.

Sanchez: The doctor said ‘bonked’?

Jackson: All the good doctors at this hospital were apparently Canadian. They all defecated.

Sanchez: Defected.

Jackson: Right.

Sanchez: So, how did this happen?

Jackson: We were attacked by some Canadian loon.

Busey: (shaking his head)  Those birds can be extremely dangerous. Twice as dangerous as geese.

Sanchez: He means a crazy person, Gary.  (turning back to Holden, unsure)  Right?

Jackson: Right. He came outta nowhere with a brick in his hand. The Secret Service guys didn’t have a chance to react. I tried to stop him, but–

Sanchez: Wow, you tried to save Wilbur? How heroic.

(Jessica rests an arm on Holden’s shoulder and his brain starts whirring..)

Jackson: Yeah. I blocked the initial assault, countered with a sweet jew-jitsu move and managed to disarm the assailant. But that’s when his friends showed up.

Sanchez: Wow, there were two attackers?

Jackson: Three, actually.

Sanchez: (puts a hand on her chest)  Oh my.

Jackson: Yeah, I kicked one of ’em in the chest; did a spin move towards the other, using the first as my fulcrum and leveled the other two with a roundhouse punch/kick combo. But then the first one dragged me away from the fight with some quick jabs and I wasn’t able to get back in time before a fourth Canuck swooped in and bonked Wilbur really good on the head with that brick. It was a whirlwind of violence and danger.

Sanchez: Oh my goodness, Holden. What a story. I’ve got to write it all down so we can report on it during the telecast tonight.

Jackson: (stammering)  Wh-what? No. That one was actually more just for you. You don’t need to–

Sanchez: Oh no, Holden. This is inspiring. The leader of the free world fighting back against his Canadian oppressors with his bare hands. This is front page stuff.

Jackson: No no. No front page.

Sanchez: I’ve gotta get down to the station. Maybe we can get a reenactment. I wonder if Jason Statham’s busy. Is he Canadian? I’ll get in touch with you on the details later.

Jackson: (watches Jessica kiss Wilbur on the forehead and rush out of the hospital room)  Sigh.

Busey: (staring at the President in silence)  I shoulda let you borrow my nunchuks.


(Prime Minister Clark Clarke is flipping through the seven Canadian television channels when he comes across Fox News..)

Clarke: Ms. Margarets, come in here.

Margarets: What is it, Mr. Prime Minister?

Clarke: The darn volume button isn’t working again.

Margarets: (walking over to the small Sylvania)  You just gotta hit it, sir.

(Margaret smacks the side of the set and the volume bar goes all the way to maximum as Jessica Sanchez’s voice blares through the office and out into the hallways of Langevin Block..)

Clarke: Ow! Turn it down, Ms. Margarets! Turn it down!

Margarets: Just a second, Mr. Prime Minister.

(Margaret fiddles with the knob and turns it back down to a respectable level. Neighborhood dogs are heard barking outside as car alarms go off in the parking lot..)

Clarke: She’s talkin’ about the President. Aren’t they dating or something?

Margarets: I don’t think so, sir. That would be highly unprofessional.

Clarke: (eyes glued to the set)  Yeah, unprofessional. She is a hot piece, though.  (glancing over at Margaret)  You know, for an Hispanic.

Margarets: Yes, sir.

Sanchez: …the President then heroically finished off the assailants with a roundhouse kick; before returning to the side of his fallen Chief of Staff. Mr. Chamberlain is currently recovering from the concussion at George Washington University Hospital and is said to be in good spirits. Could this failed attack be the turning point the Americans so desperately needed in the ongoing War with Canada.

Clarke: (muting the television again)  Aw. Well how do ya like that, Margaret. That darn President’s kickin’ our butts with his bare hands. That ain’t gonna be good for morale.

Margarets: No, sir.

Clarke: What we gotta do is respond in kind. We gotta fabricate something that makes me look like a hero, so the Canadians will rise up and stand with their powerful, inspirational leader.

Margarets: I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand.

Clarke: Ms. Margarets, I need to be assassinated.


Sanchez: He’s waking up!

Jackson: Go ahead, lick him.

Sanchez: Excuse me?

Jackson: I’m talking to the dog, Jessica.

Busey: (stops licking Wilbur’s face)  Oh.

Chamberlain: (bleary-eyed)  What the bloody hell?

Dog: Ruff!

Jackson: Ha, that’s how Wilby’s mom likes it.

Chamberlain: (stares down at the gray mutt seated on his chest)  What the devil is this?

Jackson: It’s your dog. His name’s Dog.

Chamberlain: How long have I been out for?

Jackson: Most of the day.

Chamberlain: So I missed my birthday entirely. Wonderful.

Jackson: B-day ain’t over yet, old chum. Dog here is only the first present. Not including the porno you hated, ’cause you’re weird.

Chamberlain: You now I’m allergic to dogs, right Holden?

Busey: (jumping up and down, clapping)  Open my present next!

Chamberlain: (glances around the hospital room)  I don’t see anything, Gary.

(Busey dramatically opens the door and three violently out-of-shape belly dancers hula their way in..)

Chamberlain: Oh dear.

Busey: Shake it, ladies. It’s not everyday an Englishman turns forty!

Chamberlain: I’m thirty-four. And I’m terribly depressed right now.

Busey: (thrusts a bottle of 151 in Wilbur’s face)  Take a shot!

Chamberlain: No, thank you. I just recovered from a serious concussion.

Busey: (shrugs, chugs)  More for me and the girls!

(Dog is at the end of the bed, nipping at the belly dancers’ twirling nipple tassles..)

Dog: Ruff!

Jackson: That’s how–

Chamberlain: You said that already.

Jackson: Still funny.

Sanchez: And finally, my present.

Chamberlain: (smiling up at Jessica)  Oh, lovely. You wrapped it and everything.

(Wilbur unwraps the present, a framed front page from the next day’s copy of the Washington Post..)

Chamberlain: Oh, Jessica. How sweet.

Sanchez: I know it’s from tomorrow’s paper; but it’s everything that happened on your crazy thirty-fourth birthday.

Jackson: (grabbing at the frame)  Whoa! Hey buddy, lemme put that somewhere safe for you.

Chamberlain: (snatching it back)  No, no. I wanna read. What the—HOLDEN!

Jackson: (scurrying out the door with Dog)  Gotta walk the pooch! Happy birthday, buddy!

(Busey is sloppily making out with the heaviest belly dancer on Wilbur’s legs and glances up at the Chief of Staff..)

Busey: Birthday boy, you wanna get in on this action?

Chamberlain: No, Gary. I really really don’t.

(A White House page rushes into the hospital room..)

Page: Mr. Chamberlain, just thought you should know that the Canadians just invaded Chicago.

Chamberlain: (sighs)  Happy Birthday to me.

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