(Barack, Joe, Kerry and Bill are in the Oval Office drafting a will to name the successors when Barack and Joe fake their own deaths)
Barack: No, no, no, no. He’s too accomplished. We need to replace me someone who will not upstage my accomplishments.
Kerry: Is Jimmy Carter still alive? He can still serve another term right?
Barack: No, he’s already too well known. Already been compared to me. He might accidentally accomplish something. We need a total loser.
Joe: There’s always Hillary.
All (riotous laughter)
Joe: Well, the picking of people lamer than you is getting pretty slim.
Barack: Really? Really? I’m starting to take offense at that. Starting to offend now. Can’t be that hard.
Bill: Ok, suggest someone then. Who do you want to have be your successor?
Barack: Ok, Justin Beiber. I’m pretty sure Justin Beiber would make a worse President than I am.
Kerry: He can’t be President, dude.
Joe: He’s not even American, dude. Isn’t he like from Maine or something?
Kerry: Totally. And he’s far too young, dude. Can’t even vote for himself yet, dude.
Bill: Totally. And it’s hard enough sneaking my own Brazilian prostitutes into this place. Don’t need the whore traffic to be doubling. Not enough secret entrances, dude. Can’t be losing my whores in a bottleneck. I’m not going back to interns, dude. I can’t, dude. Not gonna happen.
Barack: Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. We’re forgetting something here. This will is like all legally binding and stuff, right? All legally binding?
Bill: Well, yeah. Of course it is. So what?
Barack: I can’t believe no one thought of this before. It doesn’t matter what that Declaration of Independents thing says. The will is legally binding. It trumps it, dude. Totally trumps it. We can put anything we want in it. We can make Justin Beiber President. Doesn’t matter what the declaration says.
Joe: I can’t see any flaws in the logic. No flaws. I can’t believe no one thought of this before. We can put our whole agenda in this will, dude. And the law has to comply. They have to do it. It’s like, the law of wills and stuff.
Bill: Totally. But, well, you have to be willing to die for it, of course.
Barack: Well, fake die, anyway. I’m willing to fake die for my beliefs.
Bill: Totally. And I’d be willing to kill those other two losers outright for my beliefs too. Total sacrificial lambs, dude. But that reminds me. There is something we need to discuss in private. So, Joe and Kerry, hoof it.
Joe: I’m not leaving.
Kerry: Totally, dudes. Don’t trust you guys a bit.
Bill: I call attorney client privilege. You gotta go, dudes. It’s the law. You gotta go. Attorney client privilege. Shoo, shoo, shoo.
Barack: Get out of here. Let the adults speak for a bit.
Joe: Ok, ok, ok. But I’m checking Wikipedia, and if you are lying to me, I’m heading right back in here.
Bill: Fine. Just go, go, go.
(Joe and Kerry leave)
Bill: Ok, gotta speak fast. Won’t take him long to look that up on Wikipedia.
Barack: No worries. Take your time. He won’t be back anytime soon. We disabled the wifi on his Fisher Price laptop. It won’t take long for him to give up and get wrapped up in that I’m a Little Teapot game I installed.
Bill: Ok, but this is really important. If this is going to work, we have to do things right, which means keeping those losers out of the planning. Have you figured out how you are going to fake your deaths?
Barack: Well, I wasn’t really gonna fake Joe’s death. I mean, come on. I was gonna kill him for real.
Bill: Yeah. I was gonna suggest that. Good for appearances. Adds credibility. Makes your own death seem more legit.
Barack: Totally, and he would never make it in the shanty town anyway. Good as dead anyway. Good as dead. Good as dead.
Bill: Exactly. Stabbed within the first five minutes. Never make it out alive anyway. Totally a dead man walking. But how are you gonna work it for you?
Barack: If we are gonna die, can’t make it a wimpy death. It has to be something worthy of me. Gotta make it good. Really good. Blaze of glory good, dude. Totally blazing and glorying. A total blazing glory hole of glory.
Bill: Right. Something for the history books. Totally, dude.
Barack: I’m thinking drone attack. Can’t ID the bodies the normal way after that, dude. Gotta call in the special doctors and scientists and stuff. Blow up Joe, sprinkle a bit of my DNA on the scene, and I’m golden. As far as anyone knows, we were both there. Both exploded, dudes.
Bill: Kind of an ironic end, too. You getting droned up good like that. After all the droning you done. All that droning on and on and on.
Barack: Totally, dude. And I was gonna leave a fake paper trail leading back to the Tea Party or Sarah Palin or Frank J or some such moron. Get them strung up too. Going out in a blaze of glory and taking them down with me.
Bill: Totally, like four or five birds with one stone, dude. But I think you might need more than just a sprinkling of your DNA on the scene to convince everyone you bit it, dude. There are a lot of nut jobs out there. There are some whack jobs out there just waiting to believe in some crazy conspiracy theory that you faked your own death.
Barack: That’s totally whack, dude. Who would believe some crazy stuff like that, dude. Who really fakes their own death anymore? Who does that? It’s not like in the days of Elvis and JFK? No one does that anymore.
Bill: I’m just saying you got to do better. There are some crazies out there. I was talking to Osama just the other day, and he was telling me that he still had folks believing you didn’t really kill him. Everyone is so suspicious nowadays.
Barack: Totally. It’s all Bush’s fault, you know. Bush all the way. But what do you suggest?
Bill: Dental records, dude. They are always identifying dead guys with their dental records.
Barack: What? Leave my dental records at the scene? That’s just silly, dude. The records wouldn’t even survive the blast, and why would I be carrying dental records around with me anyway? Is that a thing? Who does that? No one carries their dental records around with them.
Bill: No, no, no, no, dude. It’s not like that. Not like that at all. No. They gather up all of your dead teeth and stuff and match it up with your dental records. It’s like a fingerprint. They can tell they are your teeth dude.
Barack: No, no, no, no, no.
Bill: Oh yes. Gotta sprinkle your pearly whites around in the blast debris. Only way to be sure. Let me grab the pliers, and I’ll be right back.
Barack: No way, dude! No way! No way! No way! I can’t eat canines without my canines dude. Gotta find another way.
Bill: There is no other way, dude. And we don’t need to leave all of them. Just enough to ID you. I’ll be right back, dude. Start thinking about your least favorite chompers.
(to be continued, maybe, if I feel like it)