“Yay! I’m president now! Time to get to work!” Obama scampered to his desk. “Time to do something about babies! I hate them!”

Rahm Emanuel walked over to Obama with a form. “You said you’d first sign a form closing Gitmo.”

“Fine.” Obama grabbed the form and signed it.

“Uh… You signed it ‘Osama’.”

“Dammit! Not again!” Obama crossed it out and signed it again. “There! Done! Now get me something to sign to help eliminate babies!”

“You really should be focusing on the economy or the war,” Rahm said.

“I don’t care about those! I want to stop babies right now! I hate them so much!”

The phone rang and Obama answered, “Hi, it’s me the president, Obama.”

“It’s Robert Gates. I just want you to know we’ve located some high priority targets.”

“If they’re babies, you have authorization for lethal force!”

“So why do you hate babies so much?” Rahm asked.

“They are a punishment!” Obama shouted. “People adore them when they should be adoring me! They should be telling me how cute I am! I want them gone!”

Rahm handed him another form. “Here, you can sign this and you can lift restrictions on funding international aid groups that fund abortion.”

“Yes!” Obama eagerly signed it. “Take that, babies!”

“Uh… you signed it Osama again.”

“Dammit! Can’t we just make it a legal alias? We’ll save time that way.”

“The press is here to see you,” said a voice over the intercom.

The press entered the Oval Office. “It’s so great to see you, President Obama!” they exclaimed. “You’re the greatest!”

“Thanks!” Obama said. “Do you have any questions?”

“No! We wouldn’t dare question you. We just wanted to tell you how great you are!” The press then left the office.

Obama smiled. “I like the media.”

Biden came into the office. “So anything you need me to do?”

“I need you to stay out of the way and shut your stupid mouth!” Obama shouted. “And your wife’s mouth too! If some cracker assassinates me, you’ll get a call. Until then, I don’t want to hear or see you!”

“You got it,” Biden said as he left.

“That’s talking!” Obama yelled. He turned to Rahm. “That guy is trouble. If he gets too much exposure, he could let out my terrible secret: I’m afraid of black people. Like every time I hug my kids, I instinctively check my wallet.”

“What about your wife?”

“I don’t hug her; that’s why we have that fist bump thing.”

A mustachioed man entered the office. “I’m ready to get to work.”

“Who’s that?” Rahm asked Obama.

“That’s my new consultant I hired: Rarl Kove.”

Rahm looked at him suspiciously. “Okay. I guess I’ll leave you two.” He left the office.

Kove walked over to Obama and whispered, “You know, there is something about that guy I just don’t trust.”

“Yeah, he is kinda weasely. Plus how can I trust someone with such a weird name: Rahm.”