The President (2)

The president is in his office, admiring the trees outside and his giant nostrils. He stands by the window, and takes in the fresh air gingerly through the nostrils. “It’s going to be a beautiful day,” he whispers to himself like a composed madman. His fingers feel his chin tenderly like a bank robber tenderly

The President

The president is angry, angrier than a mate-less gorilla. He walks into his office and steps in front of his mirror. He feels his chin to measure the growth of his desert beard. His chin feels like a dry wrinkled peanut shell. He gets even angrier.   “I want to smash something, Derrick,” the president