TRANSCRIPT OF PHONE CALL BETWEEN BARACK OBAMA, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, AND JAYSON GALLAWAY, 29 SEPTEMBER 2014, 15:07h.

J.G.: Mmmmm…damn phone…mhello?

B.O.:  Are you watching this?

J.G.:  Goddammit…am I watching what?  Who is this?

B.O.:  It’s the President.

J.G.:  Mr. President? Oh shit.  I’m sorry.  I’m taking a nap, sir. Wow, I haven’t heard from you since….

B.O.:  Turn on CNN!

J.G.:  Hold on, sir.

B.O.:  You got it?  Is it on yet?

J.G.:  Judas Priest!  Give me a second.  This better be good, sir.

B.O.:  Fore!

J.G.:  What?  Four?  Sir, what are you doing?

B.O.:  Golf.

J.G.:  Oh no.

B.O.:  Just nine holes.

J.G.:  It just looks bad, sir.  You know, what with the world falling apart and everything.

B.O.:  Look, I don’t need a lecture from you about optics…just turn on your goddamn TV.

J.G.:  Aw shit.

B.O.:  What is it?

J.G.:  My cable got shut off again, sir.  Son of a bitch.

B.O.:  Okay, listen, my secret service detail quit.

J.G.:  What?  Quit?  What do you mean, sir?  They left?

B.O.:  And the Capitol Police. No, they didn’t leave…they’re just not working.   I mean, they’re all still standing around here, pretending to be working, I guess, but they’re not doing anything.  People are just fucking walking into the White House now.  Apparently one dude came running in with a knife, ran right into the  and went running straight for the East Room screaming about wanting to behead me, and no one did anything about it.  No one even said, “Stop.”

J.G.: That can’t be true.  If nobody did anything, what happened?  Is he still running around in there?

B.O.: You know how we have that really deep shag in there?

J.G.:  Yes sir.

B.O.:  Dude tripped on the carpet.  Hit his head on the edge of the table.  Knocked himself out.

J.G.:  You’re shitting me.

B.O.:  I’m crapping you negative, cracker.

J.G.: Jesus.  And no one yelled stop?

B.O.:  I watched video of the whole thing.  The guys outside were actually cheering him on.  The guy inside were pointing directions to the East Room.

J.G.: But you weren’t in there?

B.O.:  No, but they didn’t know that.

J.G.: That doesn’t make sense.  Why would the secret service not know where you were?

B.O.:  That’s what I’m trying to tell you…they just don’t care anymore.  I used to have to sneak out to play golf.  Now I just walk out the back door, nobody says shit.  Nobody notifies anybody.  They don’t even ask if I need a ride.  They’ve turned on me.  Everybody has turned on me.

J.G.:  Sir, none of this makes sense.  Have you been getting enough sleep?

B.O.: [garbled, muffled sounds]

J.G.:  Sir?  Mr. President?  Are you okay?

B.O.: Sorry.  The old ladies behind me just asked if they could play through.  Where were we?  Yes I’ve been sleeping!  Shit!  It doesn’t make sense.  I need your help.

J.G.:  I just want to go back to sleep.  I’ll check out the news when I wake up and see if I can figure this out.

B.O.:  I need to borrow Biscuit.

J.G.:  What?  No way, sir.  Biscuit is my bodyguard.

B.O.: Just for a week.  Maybe two.

J.G.:  Well then what the hell am I supposed to do for security?  There’s a war on, for chrissake.

B.O.:  I need your help with that, too.  I have no idea what I’m doing.

J.G.: Uh-uh.  No way.  Absolutely not.

B.O.:  I’m appointing you Commander of Arts and Letters.

J.G.:  What’s the pay?

B.O.:  No pay.  But you get bitchin’ letterhead.

J.G.:  ….

B.O.:  You on board?

J.G.:  Shit.  Okay.  Okay.  I still want my nap, but when I wake up,  I’ll figure out what the hell is going on over there.  For now, stay the hell away from the White House.  You’re obviously not safe there.

B.O.:  No problem.  I’ve got nothing but golf and fund raisers through October.  How soon can Biscuit get here?

J.G.:  That could be a problem.  The Biscuit Basket burst a gasket and has been sitting on the street accruing parking tickets for a week.

B.O.: I’ll send a helicopter.  He used to be a SEAL, right?

J.G.:  Yes, he was once a seal.

B.O.:  Outstanding.  Holla at me as soon as you have something.

J.G.: Yes, sir.

B.O.:  Enjoy your nap, Commander.

J.G.: Enjoy your command, Napper.

B.O.:  What’s that?

J.G.:  God bless America, sir.