The Approaching Crisis

This morning, President Prior was in the basement kitchenette with his camera. I'd just rolled out of bed, stepping in here for my first cup of joe.

He said, "Stand still, H.R. 'Bob'."

Naturally I looked around for a sign to put around my neck. I am the president's chief of staff, and like to make sure I get things right.

"No, 'Bob', just as you are, please. But one question first, and I want you to answer without taking a moment to think. I mean answer as quickly as this shutter opens and closes."

"Ha, ha!" I laughed. "Ha! Hee!"

(He knows and he's gone around the bend!)

"Are you ready?"

"Yes Sir."

More like ready or not.

This is going to be about his friend whom I call "Pruf", the cute little Woman of Law Enforcement he sees, whom I'm determined to put up on a pedestal if nothing more.

"Ok, Bob." He readied the camera. "Bob, did you eat the last banana?" (Instataneous *click*)

With the trapped up air either swallowed or escaping my lungs I said, "They are my bananas, sir."

"I'm aware of that, Bob. I was wondering if there were any more and if I could have one.

I said help yourself, big guy. Up on top the fridge.

The President said, "By the way, I hear that you buy them just to create an impression at the grocery store. Is that right? You want the women to see you buying something healthy and you use the bananas to cover up the Jimmy Dean and Mac and Cheese and frozen pizzas."

I allowed that this was true. Sometimes I think it's sexier to fill a clear plastic sack with oranges, but there is a better chance I might actually eat a banana because I hate peeling oranges.

"Bully for you! Bully. Bully...Sit down and have some joe with me, why don't you. We need to discuss some things before tomorrow's meeting..."

"I have to go to work, Mr. President. I can tell you the men aren't going to approve of a two hundred dollar gas powered weed eater for the house. Not as of last night..."

"Work? You're going to...Who are you working for, 'Bob'?"

His hands were free now and he crooked his fingers around "Bob", as usual.
___________
Anyway, it seemed like a close call, although I'm not really guilty of anything yet except for a dozen flattering emails to this future stewardess of high finance (Pruf is studying International Business).

It's not a part of the program, I know. But you have no idea what this woman does for me. I could almost say I'm powerless and that my life is unmanagable.