The First Family, here to boost the local tourism industry in the aftermath of the Gulf oil spill, relaxes on the beach, or tries to anyway…
SASHA OBAMA: (emerging from the water) Yuuuuuuck! Why is the water still brown, Daddy?
THE PRESIDENT: Yeah, Gibbs, why is it still brown? I thought it had cleared up.
PRESS SECRETARY ROBERT GIBBS: That, sir, that’s tea. Some Tea Party protesters apparently chartered a boat a mile up the coast, and they’re dumping tea to protest your visit.
THE FIRST LADY: How do you know it’s the Tea Party?
GIBBS: Well, ma’am, they’re flying a burgee with Marco Rubio’s face on it. That and the voice that’s directing them over the boat’s loud speaker sounds suspiciously like Sarah Palin’s.
PRESIDENT: In that case, is it within my powers to order the Coast Guard to sink it?
GIBBS: Well, sir, I’d have to check the War Powers Act, but I seriously doubt it.
PRESIDENT: Blast ‘em out of the water? Fire a warning shot off their bow?
GIBBS: That wouldn’t look good. The press would have a field day. Your poll numbers are already low, plus we shouldn’t make them into victims – the public might begin to feel sorry for them.
PRESIDENT: Gibbs, you’re right.
WHEN: Last weekend
WHERE: Outside a cabin at Camp Wicosuta, Malia [Secret Service code name: Radiance] Obama’s summer camp in New Hampshire
SECRET SERVICE AGENT 1: (swatting away a mosquito) Anything interesting happen last night after Radiance and the other kids went to bed?
SECRET SERVICE AGENT 2: Yeah. They got me.
AGENT 1: Oh? How?
AGENT 2: The-ol-bucket-of-water-above-the-door prank.
AGENT 1: (laughing)
AGENT 2: I don’t see what’s so funny. It wasn’t water in the bucket. It was maple syrup. Got it all over me.
AGENT 1: Did you hear how they got Riley last week?
AGENT 2: No. How?
AGENT 1: Trust me, you don’t want to know.
AGENT 2: I’ll be glad when we get back to D.C. The agency doesn’t pay me enough to endure this torture. At least when I was on the Bush twins’ detail, the most we ever had to do was pull them out of the bars when they’d gotten too sloshed. Who knew guarding a little 12-year-old girl was going to be this rough?
AGENT 1: You got that right.
WHEN: One night last week
WHERE: The White House
BO, THE OBAMA FAMILY DOG: (on the phone) Get me Senator Schumer’s residence.
WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR: Senator Schumer’s residence on the line.
GINGER THE SCHNAUZER : Hello?
BO: Ginge! Hey, sexy thing, whatcha doin’ tonight?
GINGER: Oh, just lying around waiting for the master and his wife to return from their evening out.
BO: How’d you like to come over and spend the night?
GINGER: Oh, can I?! Cool! But are they home?
BO: Oh, them? No, they’re all out of the house for a change. Even the mother-in-law. And I’ve got the digs all to myself – all 132 rooms, baby! Come on over and let’s get this party started!
GINGER: Can I bring over a friend? She’s Janet Napolitano’s Spaniel. She needs some company right now. Got a big crush on Barney Frank’s dog, but he won’t call her and ask her out.
BO: Barney Frank? Bitch, his dog’s never gonna go for her. Trust me, he’s not her type.
GINGER: What do you mean, “not her type”?
BO: He’s not her type. On account he’s gay.
GINGER: I know the congressman’s gay.
BO: I’m not talking about the congressman, Ginge. I’m talking about his dog. His dog’s gay, too.
BO: As gay as a chihuahua in a tutu.
GINGER: But he’s soooo damn good-looking and he always keeps his coat so well groomed.
BO: Exactly. Didn’t you pick up on those clues? A metrosexual mutt, through and through.
GINGER: (sigh) Why are the best ones always gay?
BO: Yeah, bring her. Get here at 10, use the secret entrance near the gate like we used before, and make sure no reporters see you, okay?
BO: You know how everyone wants to sleep in the Lincoln Bedroom? Well, I’ll show you what’s under the Lincoln bed.
GINGER: I bet you say that to all your bitches.
BO: Me? Girl, I’m just a one-bitch dog.
GINGER: Sure, sweet stuff. That’s what they all say.
BO: Dawg, you coming or what?
GINGER: Hot stuff, I’m there! (hangs up)
WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR: I have a call from the Secretary of Defense’s residence.
BO: Put it through.
CUDDLES THE POODLE: Bo?
BO: Cuddles! Hey, babe! What’s cooking?
CUDDLES: I’m so lonely tonight, all by myself. Care to share a Milkbone?
BO: Ah, gee, girl, I’m… well, I’d really love to, but… I’m having a flea dip tonight, so I’ve gotta pass. Maybe some other time, okay?
CUDDLES: Oh, okay. But you owe me.
BO: I know.
CUDDLES: Maybe we can hang out in the pool again, like last time?
BO: I don’t know about that, sugar. After the last time, they noticed dog hairs that weren’t mine. We nearly got found out.
CUDDLES: Well, if they don’t ask…
BO: We won’t tell! (laughing).