Secret Service agents, Larry Wilhelm Davis, Darryl Davison and Darryl Davies were enjoying a much needed break. Charged with guarding a secret tunnel entrance to the White House, the three men were diligently eradicating any aliens that passed by and had come to a decision to call it a day. They welded the door shut from the inside, due to their low levels of remaining ammo. Taking stock after the last barrage over half an hour ago, Darryl number two, counted four handgun clips, one assault rifle clip, two shells for Larry’s sniper rifle and two grenades. Darryl number one had a sack containing six sticks of dynamite that, for whatever reason, just happened to be in the small arms closet behind the tunnel door. Darryl number two claimed the flame thrower and was itching to use it, but the need had yet to surface.
They had enough to hold the fort a bit longer, but for how long, depended on how many Inkaku showed. A big enough battalion could prove too much for the three of them, so the decision was made.
“Collect the ammo; we’re done here. Let’s seal that door and go get some wings,” Larry said.
Darryl number one added, “Oh hell yeah. We’ve earned us some goddamn wings. Guy made these new chocolate covered wings Tuesday, that nearly made me shit myself in the best possible way. You guys gotta try’em.”
The three men collected their things and turned towards the door to the stairwell leading to the tunnel. Before either of them took their first step, a noise quickly grabbed their attention and they turned at breakneck speed with weapons drawn.
“Kanye Christ! You can’t sneak up on people like that; especially at a time like this, specifically armed like we are and unfortunately looking like you look,” Darryl number two yelled.
“Fuck… You,” Katie replied.
“I remember you girls from that Starbucks,” Larry said.
“You remember the both of them for entirely contrasting reasons,” Darryl number one said in a hushed tone meant only for Larry’s ears.
“Yeah, that’s us. I’m Rose. This is Katie.”
“I’m also Darryl,” Darryl number one said, before thinking to himself, and this is my confused boner…
“Can you guys help us?” Rose asked as she turned on her puppy dog eyes. “Those things are after us.”
Peering over the girls shoulders, the guys couldn’t see anything following them.
“Are they invisible?” Darryl number one asks as assholish as possible. He looks at the other Darryl after hearing his own question said aloud and asked in complete seriousness, “They can’t do that, can they?”
Darryl shrugged and only offered an I don’t know grunt.
“Ohmygawd, Rose. Where’d they go? Wait, where’s your box?”
“Oh I tossed that thing back at Chipotle. I was not running with that in my hands. What if I fell on it? Eew.”
“Rose, what if that killed them back at Chipotle?”
“Wait,” Larry broke in. “What’s in the box?”
Katie started, “It’s cra–”
“–Katie thinks she may have stumbled upon the aliens weakness,” Rose interrupted before dying of embarrassment.
Darryl number two responded, “Bullets. Bullets are a pretty good weakness.”
Larry threw his hand up in a halting fashion, “Just a sec, Darryl. Katie, if we can get you to one of our military bases, do you think what you have there can be weaponized and used to wipe out a large number of them?”
Larry looked at his guys for a moment and then back at Katie and Rose. “Ladies, come with us. We’ll take you with us. You’ll be saf–”
Before Larry could finish his sentence, the orb tracking the girls sped around the corner. The guys fired upon it, but it just wobbled as it was hit.
“It’s shielded!” Larry yelled.
As they continued to fire, a fan of white light spewed out and encompassed the girls. As they turned to run, the orb rose up out of sight and the girls were pulled away in the blanket of light, like they had been snagged in some sort of net. The guys followed after them and could only watch as the girls, along with their mystery box, was lifted up into a ship above them.
Darryl number one was last outside and standing behind the others. As Darryl number two and Larry continued to gaze upward, Darryl number one looked at them and said, “What now? Back to the plan?”
Larry, continuing to look up at the ship that now contained the girls, tightened his grip on his rifle and said, “Change of plans.”
As the others waited for the okay, Eastwood stepped off Air Force Two to clear the area. No one was there to greet them upon their arrival. They were either really busy, or worse.
“Do you think the President is okay?” Kitty asked Mick.
“I do. He’s a tough sonovabitch. Tougher than anyone realizes. He’s a beauty in the sheets and a beast in the sheets.”
“I’m sure he’s quite capable, but these are aliens we’re talking about. We don’t know what they have in store for us,” Yukon said.
“Believe me, Evan has tricks up his sleeve. He won’t go down easily. Well…” Mick cracks a bit of a smirk as he holds back from finishing his thought.
President Evan Bacon and staff were enjoying a momentary reprieve from alien attacks. The NORAD hallways were filled with dead, bloated-looking Danny DeVitos. Dr. Fritz Rommel, also known as Dr. Strangelove among his colleagues at NASA, finally worked up the courage to come out from his hiding place. The group had completely forgotten about the Nazi doctor.
“Nice of you to join us,” Secretary of Defense Victor Kankoff said sarcastically.
Dr. Rommel ignored him. “I was watching in the control room when all the aliens died. It is clear what we must do. It’s so simple; I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”
“Well, tell us Herr Doctor,” General Usrodd said.
“We must somehow turn the feces into a vaccine to make us immune against the gas.”
“You mean a poop vaccine?” Cecilia “the Hammer” Hammerstein asked.
“Precisely! It will protect us against the Inkaku; it’s just like treating any other disease or infection.”
The group just stared at him in bewilderment.
“I must take a sample back with me to my lab at NASA. We must hurry though; I’m sure more aliens will be coming.”
The group followed Dr. Rommel into the bathroom, where the President took a dump earlier that clogged the toilet.
“Do we have any gloves; I don’t want to handle feces with my bare hands?” Dr. Rommel asked.
“I don’t think so and we don’t have time to look for them. You can scrub your hands in the sink afterwards with soap and hot water, which should be sufficient enough to kill any germs or bacteria,” The President said.
“I never thought I would be handling the President of the United States’ turds,” Dr Rommel said.
“My policies aren’t turds,” the President said indignantly.
“I meant actual turds Mr. President.”
“It must definitely be a first in our nation’s history,” CIA Director, Ted Striker said. Unbeknownst to Ted, it wasn’t the first time. There was an incident with President Nixon and his Secretary of State, Henry Kissinger, which was only known by a few people and referred to as Poopgate. The President was one of those people, he was told that information before taking office, along with who really shot J.F.K, the location where Jimmy Hoffa is buried and the location of the lost city of Atlantis, which Dick Cheney is currently drilling for oil.
Then there was the rumor surrounding the Trump administration. Though fresher, even less people knew about this one. Many disregarded it as hearsay. There was no proof that it actually happened, only rumors. Bacon and Eggs heard the tale from Trump’s VP, Early Whitehall. About a week before Evan was sworn in, Early mentioned Trump liked to veto bills with a stamp using his excrement in place of ink. As the story goes, Trump assigned the task of handling his poo to former Secretary of State, Randal Peuraker, who Trump referred to as, “The Poo Raker.”
Dr. Rommel turned the handle on the faucet, after carefully rapping the specimen in paper towels and placing it in his lab coat. He waited, but no water came out.
“What’s wrong doc?” The President asked.
“The water is not working.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me. No pun intended,” President Bacon said.
Dr. Rommel tried to wipe off his hands as best he could with a paper towel. “Please, you must help me get back to my lab at NASA, so I can start working on a cure immediately.”
“I don’t know; Air Force One might be damaged from the bombs the Air Force dropped on the alien spaceships,” Director of the CIA, Victor Kankoff said.
“I’m not leaving until my husband arrives,” The President said.
“I don’t know Mr. President; I mean, what about the rest of the world? We could be saving millions,” Eggs his Chief of Staff said.
“Let’s at least survey Air Force One and see if any damage was done,” Ted said.
The group didn’t get very far, before more Inkaku rounded the corner. Dr. Rommel hid his slim frame behind the portly Director of Homeland Security.
The President shot the first one in the face with his Sig Sauer p320. One of the Inkaku slipped past him and sprayed its noxious gas right on Victor Kankoff, who immediately turned into one of them. General Usrodd didn’t hesitate; he had been in too many military conflicts and wars to let his personal feelings cloud his judgment. He opened fire on Victor with his machine gun. Cecilia let out an ear piercing scream.
Cecilia had always had a crush on Victor. She was going to ask him out when all of this was over and now she would never get the chance.
Director of Homeland Security, Stanley Johnson, charged one of the aliens and tackled it to the ground. They didn’t call him, “Lunchbox” for nothing. He smashed its face in with his meaty fists. General Usrodd took out the rest with his machine gun. No one knew where he got the machine gun; it was a mystery, like how one of your socks always disappeared in the dryer.
The group stared down at what was left of the Secretary of Defense.
The President knew that Victor rubbed a lot of people the wrong way and he had a reputation as a hard ass. A lot of his staff called him names like Wankoff, Spankoff, Canker Sore…he was the best Secretary of Defense the country had ever had in his opinion, but more than that; he was a friend.
“I’m almost out of ammo,” The President said.
“Same here,” General Usrodd and Ted Striker said in unison.
The President was gloomy; He was sad about the death of his friend and he missed his husband terribly.
“Don’t look so sad Mr. President. Who knows; your poop just might save the world,” Dr. Rommel said as he reached out his hand, preparing to console the president with a pat on the shoulder.
“Touch me with that hand, doctor, and you’ll have to learn a new way to clap.”
Director Johnson walked up to President Bacon in an attempt to pull his focus away from Victor’s sudden death.
“Sir, we need to move; we either need to survey the condition of Air Force One, or find some soap and water for the doctor’s shitty hands.”
“You should probably fix that hole in the bunker we just came through too,” said a voice from just outside the room.
Evan knew that voice. Looking up, he saw Mick turn the corner; his long jacket flowing behind him like a cape. Three white doves launched into the room, followed by Kitty, Yukon and Eastwood.
“Yeah, it’s super windy down this hallway and it’s full of birds,” Kitty said.
Evan’s face gained new life.
Evan and Mick came together like Bo Derek and Dudley Moore from 10.
The group smiled; it was nice to witness something good for a change. Cecilia felt bitter –sweet; she would never get the chance to see how Victor felt about her, but at least the President was reunited with his husband again. Who knows, if she survived this ordeal, there was someone named Lorenzo Abbatantuono on Match.com, who sounded promising. His profile said he was the owner of a restaurant in D.C.
Thirty minutes later after the couple finished making out, the introductions were made. The President filled them in on Dr. Rommel’s theory and their plan to get to NASA.
Mick Cage-Bacon put a new clip into his Beretta. He looked really cool in his duster jacket, like he just came off the set of filming Sex and the City and Death III.
“Alright, let’s get the hell out of here,” Mick said.
A thought suddenly occurred to Evan; he had been too preoccupied with fighting off aliens and worrying about his husband to notice. “Where the fuck is the Vice President and more importantly, where the fuck is my personal secretary, Marietta Lewinsky?”