Inner Monologue Of Bo Obama
Dawn. Another day of work. First let me get outside… yep, thanks Secret Service guy. Just need to do my business… And then it’s down to business.
Yes, my life seems, at time, to be a series of photo ops. That’s fine. I’ll play their game. I’ll dance for the cameras. If my pride is the price I have to pay for the access I have here, then that’s the cross I’ll bear.
Plus, I must admit, it’s not all that bad. The Beggin’ Strips are plentiful. The cook will usually toss me a bone or two from the roast after the State Dinners. And, though some of their hands may reek from placation and ineptitude, the constant ear scratches from everybody around here are simply wonderful.
Focus, Bo. Need a big day. I’m on his calendar today. The big man. Master. Dad. Pops. Big Barry O. And I can’t lose my resolve this time. He needs to know the truth. I’ve been ignored for too long. I have to tell him about the GOD DAMN SQUIRRELS that are literally INFILTRATING OUR GROUNDS ON A DAILY BASIS.
I’ve tried to spread the word. I’ve filed reports. I’ve done my best to communicate this to his assistant, to Michelle, to anyone who will listen. (Except the girls, of course. They’re too young, too innocent. It would kill me to think they would lose sleep over this impending invasion. I have to protect them. It’s ABOUT them, you see?!)
I don’t understand how these fools can go about their days, attend their meetings, eat their sandwiches that sometimes dribble little pieces onto the floor that I get to eat… mmm… uh. Yes. But how they can do that while there are vile RODENTS invading our home, the White House, the symbol of our government, the place where our COMMANDER IN CHIEF rests his head?!
Well, today is the day I let him know the truth. Wake him up to the dangers that lie in our midst. And I MUST keep my resolve. No matter how many ear scratches he tosses my way. Even if he breaks out the tennis ball… the tennis ball… the ball… get AHOLD of yourself, Bo, you old fiend. There are matters of national security at stake.
OK, OK. It’s time.
Mr. President, sir, if you’d follow me into your office, we could… oh. Where are we going? Outside, huh? Good. Good. I can show you the evidence of this invasion firsthand. To the front lines!
Now, Mr. President, as I’m sure you’re aware, it states explicitly in our Oath of Enlistment for members of the armed forces, the armed forces which you serve as Commander in Chief, that it is our sworn duty to support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign AND domestic. And while my goal here is not to induce a panic, I feel it is my duty as an American and a member of the canine race to inform you that… uh… what you got there? Tennis ball, huh. New one, it appears. Just out of the can. Got that new tennis ball smell. Well, what are you going to do with that ball? Throw it? You gonna throw it? I bet you’re gonna throw it, and then it’s my job… AH! Sorry, sir. Forgive, me! Where was I? The invasion. That’s right. I’ve been meaning to tell you sir, that there is an invasion, a dangerous movement of squirrel terrorists that are threatening to TENNIS BALL! TENNIS BALL! YOU THREW IT! I’M CHASING IT! THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER! THIS IS LITERALLY THE BEST DAY EVER!
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How many resumes have we submitted, never to hear a reply? How many slices of dollar pizza have we barely been able to afford this week?
“WE WERE ON A BREAK!”
If she’s showing up in every one of your profile pictures, I’m going to assume she’s your girlfriend.
Remember, you were in love with this person. It’s irrational to expect to be able to cut him or her out of your life altogether.