(The White House Bedroom)
Michelle: And then I found both Sasha and Malia hiding their vegetables under the table. And they wouldn’t eat them no matter how many times I told them it was in their best interests to eat their vegetables.
Barack: Yes dear.
Michelle: And do you know what the secret service guys told me? Do you? They said that the girls were ditching school and hiding out behind the gym with their friends, and they were having Big Gulps. They weren’t sharing one and passing it around. They each had their own. Did you hear me? They each had there own. All that high fructose corn syrup. It’s gonna kill them. You really need to talk to them.
Barack: Yes dear.
Michelle: And I caught Joe peeing in the corner again. He’s doing it everywhere. Getting him the adult diapers didn’t help. He just takes them off and does his business. We need to do something about this. You know, I saw this thing at Overstock. It was an electrified potty training device that fits into his underpants that we could program to jolt him if he does that again. Barry? Barack? What do you think?
Barack: Yes dear.
(Red phone on the nightstand starts trilling)
Barack: No time now, dear. It’s the Barryphone. (picks it up) I’m on my way. To the Obamapole. (Bookcase swings open revealing pole. Barack rushes to it and slides down to the Barrycave below)
Barack: What seems to be the problem, Alfred?
Alfred: We have a problem with Operation Put Him Out of Our Misery. Agent 238 is refusing to complete the mission.
Barack: Get him on the big screen.
Alfred: Yes sir.
(Big screen turns on and Dennis Rodman’s ugly mug appears)
Barack: Why isn’t Kim Jong Un dead yet? We spent years setting this up. Getting him to trust you. Getting him to let you into his inner circle. So I hear you are refusing to do your job, then? You aren’t having ‘performance anxiety’ again, are you?
Rodman: I can’t do it, sir. I just can’t. I love the little guy. You don’t know him the way that I do. He’s not bad. He’s just so lonely. So lonely and sadly alone.
Barack: Get your head back in the game, soldier. Don’t do this to me. You remember how we recruited you? You remember why you are there? Madonna gave us the videos. We have all the proof we need. We just need to leak it to the internet. Everyone will know why Madonna left you. Everyone will know about your other ‘performance anxiety’ as well.
Rodman: I don’t care anymore. Kim has cured me. He accepts me for me. And that was all I needed to make things right again. All I needed. All I ever needed…..
Barack: It’s hopeless, Alfred. We lost him. He’s hopelessly turned.
Alfred: What shall we do now, sir?
Barack: Like with everything else, I can do agent 238’s job better than agent 238 can. It’s true. If I want something done right, I have to do it myself. Prepare the Obamaporter and lock on to the homing device in agent 238’s nose ring. Beam me to him.
Alfred: Obamaporter activated, sir. Have a jolly good trip, sir.
(Barack materializes next to Rodman on a basketball court and Kim Jong Un is watching from the sides)
Barack: Holy Harlem Globetrotters, Rodman!
Kim: Top o’ the mornin’ to ya guvnah. Welcome to me playground. Would ye care for a spot o’ tea?
Rodman: Why do you suddenly sound like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins?
Barack: That’s my fault. This is my daydream, and I am so post racial I don’t even see race or distinguish accents. For that matter, I don’t even see gender or sexual orientation anymore. But creed, I sure focus in on creed. Anyway, all non-religious people look and sound the same to me. I don’t even know what country he is supposed to be the dictator of.
Kim: You donae know, aye, then let me educate you a bit, Laddy.
Rodman: What? You’re Scottish now?
Kim: Thanks to my newest techonology, this is not your daydream anymore, President Barack Hussein Obama. It is mine. You have no power here. And to prove this to you, I will be returning to my outrageous Korean accent. At rong rast you have farren into my werr conceived trap. This is my daydream now. And if you die in my daydream, you die in rear rife as werr. And now, Mr. President, you wirr die! I charrenge you to a one-on-one basketbarr game to the death. The roser is eaten by my rottweirrers.
Rodman: I will be your champion.
Kim: Excerrent! Ret the game begin!
Barack: You traitor!
Rodman (tosses him the ball): You can go first.
Barack (starts dribbling)
Rodman (guarding him): It’s worse than you think. I voted for McCain. And for Romney.
Barack: You race traitor!
Rodman: And I blame the downfall of Detroit on years of liberal leadership. I lived through it, and it changed me.
Rodman: At last you are beginning to understand. It was not I, but you that were dancing to my tune all along.
Barack (dribbles past Rodman, goes up for a layup and is soundly rejected)
Rodman (retrieves ball and begins dribbling): This is going to be fun.
Barack: Yes it is, but there is something you should know as well. I have been on to you since the beginning. And this is my plan coming to fruition. All that media coverage about me sucking at basketball. Totally faked. And have you spoken to Chuck Daly lately? I doubt it. We’ve had him under rendition for three years. He was a tough nut, but all nuts crack eventually. He told me everything. We watched the old tapes together over and over and over again. I know your every move, your every dirty trick. I can foresee every thrown elbow, every knee to the groin, every shove. I can anticipate your every move.
Rodman (drives for a layup and is soundly blocked by Barack)
Barack: Yes, this is going to be fun.
(Basketball playing montage with Eye of the Tiger playing in the background. Rodman is up 19 to 10, clearly due to biased officiating)
Barack: I thought this was supposed to be one-on-one, Kim, not three-on-one.
Kim: You are not in the NBA anymore Mr. President.
Rodman (maniacal laughter): Correction, you were never in the NBA.
Barack: The joke is on you. There is still something you don’t know about me. (Barack bumps his fists together joining his power rings) Wonder Mulatto powers activated! (He raises his right hand which is glowing white) Ball handling skills of John Stockton! (He raises his left hand which is glowing black) Scoring skills of Michael Jordan! Just try and stop me now! (drives, leaps over Rodman and dunks)
Rodman: That was charging ref! Open your eyes!
Kim: Carr it! Carr the four! Carr the four!
Ref: I can’t! I can’t! I don’t know why, but I can’t!
Barack: You know you can’t call a foul on Michael Jordan. He’s a superstar. (tosses the ball to Rodman) Your play, Dennis.
(Basketball montage of Barack with mad skills catching up until it is tied 20 to 20)
Barack (dribbling): Next point wins. It doesn’t have to end like this. You can still come back. Join me, and let’s kill Kim Jong Un together.
Rodman: Never. I love him. And he loves me.
Barack: So be it. (leaps from half court, over Rodman and dunks, shattering the backboard) Looks like you lose, Kim. Your champion is shredded. Kim Jong Un? More like Kim Chi Yum.
Kim: Ah, but you are forgetting one very important thing. I have arr power in this prace. Arr power. And I am a better riar than even you. Rerease the rottweirrers. Kirr them. Kirr them both.
Rodman: No. How could you? I love you!
Kim: But you too are forgetting one very important thing. I never roved you. Yes, the sex was amazing, but you meant nothing to me. I wasn’t even that ronery.
Rodman (weeping): Then I have no reason to live. Let them eat me. Let them come.
(The dogs are rushing towards them)
Barack: Snap out of it. He’s not worth it. Gahhh! You’re worthless. I guess I’ll have to handle this on my own again. (He begins gesturing oddly with his hands and growling soothingly under his breath. The dogs calm and surround him, nuzzling closer, fighting for his caresses)
Kim: Impossibre! That is onry supposed to work for Crocodire Dundee! Impossibre! Kirr him! You are supposed to kirr him!
Barack: That is where you are wrong. I have the spirit of the African dingoes flowing in my veins. It has been passed down from my fathers and my fathers’ fathers from time immemorial. It is a sacred rite. By consuming the flesh of the canine, you gain its essence. And you were wrong about something else as well. This was never your daydream, but mine all along. You made one mistake that gave it away. I could understand every word Rodman said. And now it is time to end this little game of ours. Your dogs will not hurt me. But they may hurt you…..
Kim: No, no. Don’t kirr me! Prease don’t kirr me! We are the same, you and I. I know why you hate me. You are jearous. But you don’t have to be. You don’t have to be jearous. You are jearous because I excerr over you. Arr of my peopre worship me as a god. Only 51% of your peopre worship you. I have arr power. You have to fight for your power with those firthy repubricans and ribertarians and constitutions. You do not need to be jearous of me. Ret em riberate you. Join with me. Rearn at my side. I wirr terr you arr my secrets. I wirr share everything with you. You can have arr power too. Join me. I ried to Rodman. It is ronery at the top. I rong for a partner, an equar. Prease join me, comprete me.
Barack: I suddenly see what Rodman saw in you. I understand you now. You are not evil. We want the same things. Your power, your vision, it is beautiful. It is intoxicating. It is sexy. I want to share that vision. I want to melt into your arms. I want to merge into a future with you. This was not my daydream. This was not your daydream. This was our daydream. It was our daydream. Come here. Kiss me. Kiss me, you fool……
Michelle: Barry? Barry? Earth to Barry. Snap out of it, Barry? I need your opinion. Does this nightgown make my butt look fat?
Barack: No dear.
(To be continued, maybe, if I feel like it)
(I was trying to make Barack’s daydream as dreadfully awful and poorly written as Michael Scott’s Threat Level Midnight. Did I succeed?)