And so we punk

[Ed. note: The following was written for the NPR project Three Minute Fiction after research uncovered that the winner of this installment would receive publication in The Paris Review as well as being read on All Things Considered. Essentially an experiment in microfiction, the task was to create something that could be read in three minutes, about 600 words, on a topic of the guest judge's choosing. This time, a President, any, fictional or otherwise. After the cut is my offering, already submitted but with no real chance of consideration as it will undoubtedly fail the earnestness test that seems a prerequisite for an audience with NPR. It is also a borderline story, more akin to the non-fictions of Donald Barthelme. The piece is called "The President Takes a Sick Day. Enjoy.]

The President will not be in today.

Unlike the last time when he was photographed plucking petals off the First Tulips for inclusion in the First Scrapbook, I can vouch that he spent the entire evening under the warmth of the First Covers, in a stupor produced by Nyquil, while the First Lady tended to his plaintive cries for tea.

As a result, and because he strongly believes that the dignity of the office requires the full mental faculties and decision-making prowess that you, the good God-fearing citizens of the United States of America, elected him for and expect of him, he has ceded his powers for the duration to the Office of the Vice President. Please direct all your important questions his way. This should only last a day.

In the interim, we at the White House assure you that the buses will still deliver their payload of children—your children—to school on time, that the planes have neither stopped nor are dropping out of the air, that all the shock-and-awe engagements in our foreign-land deployments are still at the full peak of their shock-and-awed-ness. And he further wants to assure you that, in the event that something does come up in which the Vice President may need to seek advice, the President has made it known that he can be roused if need be, for any reason.

To prevent a repeat of last time, the President requests that you keep all celebrations to a minimum. That you refrain from purchasing more than two bottles of champagne per person. That any parades, any firing into the air of pistols or revolvers or rifles or shotguns be kept at a two-mile safe distance from the residence at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. And that any hanging from street lights or freeways or statues in his image should be strictly done in a responsible manner and not under the influence of any substances, controlled or otherwise.

He assures you this will only last a day, but he really is not feeling well and needs his rest.

While he is resting, he wants you to know that these will be the things at the forefront of his sickbed thoughts: the peaceful resolution of all current border disputes, the furthering economic divide between the consumer and employer classes, the continued desertification of the great heartland of this country, the crippling disintegration of our social fabric. These are of the utmost importance to him, and to help, he has provided you, the voter and the lifeblood of our great democracy, a handy dry erase board and full set of markers, two whole-grain tea biscuits and eight ounces of lemonade from the White House’s own industrial-grade kitchen, a signed photograph of the Dear President with the First Spaniel taken at Camp David. All to be delivered by the great men and women—our true American heroes—of the U.S. Postal Service. He has even programmed the First Pandora account with a specially cultivated mix of Middle-Eastern and Korean hits to better promote a feeling of comfort, sociability, and armistice. He wants you to know that while he absolutely respects your inalienable right to express your thoughts openly and responsibly in a public forum, he enjoins you to exercise the utmost flexibility and understanding as the music goes along. Most of all, he requests that you do not in any way tamper with the settings on the Pandora stream. All violators will be dealt with summarily, no exceptions.

Please direct all well wishes to the Office of the Vice President. This will only last a day.