| General Fiction posted January 30, 2025 |
I woke up this morning feelinâÃÂàfine.
NO! Say It Ain't So!
I apologize for the length of this post. (2700 words)
“What time is it?”
No one answered.
“Where am I?”
Still, no one answered.
I turned on a lamp and looked around at the splendor. Am I in a fancy hotel? How did I get here? Who checked me in? I didn’t. I never would… couldn’t afford it for one, and wouldn’t spend what it would take anyway. The furnishings are… I don’t know, some brand of antique. French provincial, maybe. I say that only because I know it’s not Shaker and those are the only terms I know for antique furnishings.
I get up and right off sense a terrible wrongness. Somethin’ ain’t right. First of all, I’m not built like this. Secondly, I’m wearing pajamas. I haven’t worn PJ’s since fifth grade.
I head for a door that should be a bathroom. The sight in the mirror staggered me… literally. I nearly fell, saved by the wall behind me. Seeing my size, I feared breaking the towel rack off the wall.
While in the bedroom, I sensed that it was early, dark early, but still I felt an urgency, a rush to hurry through my ablutions and get to where I could try to make sense of the situation. After looking in vain for a new toothbrush, I decided that since I was in his body anyway… I did resolve to toss mine if we ever switched back, though.
I had no idea where anything was outside the bedroom, but it didn’t appear overly complicated, a fairly simple rectangular order about the space, the third floor of the White House.
Stumbling about, trying to make my unaccustomed frame behave, I was startled by a man who approached from behind. “Might I be of assistance, Mr. President?”
I snapped erect, again nearly falling in the process. I felt my jaws flapping.
“A midnight snack, perhaps?” the man asked.
He was a bit disheveled. Like he was put together too quickly. I started to ask what time it was but saw a wall clock that declared 4:15, reasonably close to my normal rising time. “Do you know where the toaster is?” I asked.
“Toast, sir?”
I didn’t reply. He’d obviously understood me.
I began to speak, but immediately caught myself. Whatever I said to anyone, might be the beginning of a course I would not care for … involuntary commitment – men in white coats with a jacket that fastened in back.
“Could you help me figure out how to get a piece of toast and some coffee?”
“Coffee, sir?”
I nodded. “Have we met, formally, I mean? I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Not really, sir. I’m Thomas, Thomas, McQuin.”
His arm moved, but he obviously caught himself. I extended my hand. “Thomas, or Tom?"
Shaking hands, he said “Tom.”
“Help me out here, Tom. I’m in a bit of a fog.”
Before I could tell him what I wanted, Tom asked. “Coffee, h-how do you want it, sir?”
“Black, and in a regular mug if we have one, not a teacup, or one of those monster things that makes coffee run out the sides of your mouth like you’re a three-year-old, know what I mean?”
Tom chuckled, holding back an outright laugh. “Yes sir. I’ll be happy to get that for you.”
Holding my gut, I told him that I only wanted one piece of toast and that I would get dressed and be right back out. I added that he was to pour himself a cup of coffee if he’d like. Hearing a noise, we both turned to a hallway. Tom instantly assumed a sort of parade rest posture.
“Everything all right, sir?” A man asked. He was tall and broad-shouldered. Secret Service, I surmised. “Yes, fine,” I said, hoping my posture told him to return to his post.
He did, a confused look on his face.
I waved to Tom and returned to my room, intent on dressing as quickly as I could and get a few undisturbed moments with Tom.
*******
“How long have you worked for me, Tom? Uh, for the White House?”
“This is my second week, sir. You, uh…”
“Didn’t want Biden’s staff,” I finished. Tom’s expression didn’t clear. “And I didn’t want the regular White House staff, the career staff.”
Tom nodded.
“Tom, how did you vote?” Tom’s complexion reddened.
“This is a test, Tom. I have to know if I can trust you. I promise you. You will not suffer for telling the truth.”
Tom looked me in the eye. “I haven’t voted Republican since Reagan’s Iran/Contra deal and Ollie North.”
I nodded. “I’m not Donald Trump. I woke up this morning in his body. I don’t know how long this will last, but I’m going to do what I can to…” Before saying anymore, I tried to read him, see if he thought I was even crazier than yesterday.
“So, who did you vote for?” he asked.
“I wanted Biden, or better yet, one of the Democratic governors. But I voted for Kamala.” Pronouncing her name right might’ve helped.
“And you really are…?”
“Phil Jansen. Philip R. Jansen.”
Tom just nodded and sipped his coffee. I did, too.
“Look you need a code. Every time I see you, I’ll say, uh… wonderfine. Wonderfine morning, isn’t it Tom? Oh, I’m wonderfine. You’ll know it’s me.”
Tom nodded.
“I’m up by four every day, but…”
“I’ll be happy to fix coffee and share the morning with you, sir.”
I nodded and thanked him, telling him how much I would appreciate that. “What are your work hours, your shift?”
“Mr. President, I can be here twenty-four/seven if you wish. Just clear it with my boss, Benjamin.”
I nodded “Can you work with me? Help me? At least for the next couple weeks?”
“Anything I can help with, yes sir.”
“First, I’ll write down my address for you. If things go south for you and, you know, I’ve switched back… well, I don’t have much, but I’ll be more than happy to share with you.” I waited until Tom nodded. Then I drew out a couple hundred-dollar bills. Can you get me two… make that three cheap cell phones from Walmart, or somewhere?”
He could, and would have them for me anytime after lunch. I told him the next morning if we couldn’t do it today.
I chugged the rest of my lukewarm coffee. “Any idea what my routine is?”
“The last few days it’s been edging later and later, but you’ve never gone down to the Oval Office until after nine, so far as I know, sir.”
I blinked and decided to let him continue calling me sir. It wouldn’t do for him to slip up when others might be listening. Which caused me to think. “Tom…” I dead-panned him, “Is there any surveillance in here? Cameras?” I glanced around the ceiling.
“There are, sir. Cameras that the Secret Service monitor. How well, I don’t know. But no audio unless someone tells Siri to turn audio on.” After a short pause, he added, “But there are none in your quarters.”
I nodded and glanced at my watch, sucking in air through my teeth, a practice I was only now aware of. “Then how about another cup of coffee?”
“I should…”
“Ah…” Tom took my admonishment gracefully, smiled, and carried our empty cups to the counter to refill.
******
“Mrs. Goodman, Betty. Good morning. How is my wonderful Chief of Staff this morning?” It was almost eight o’clock and I could tell that I surprised her, though my bet was that the Secret Service agent, who seemed a bit perplexed, had messaged her that we were on our way down. I could sense that Betty and I were on a first-name basis, at least me her since the inauguration.
Before she could speak, I raised my hand. “A few things. Elon Musk no longer has my open-door policy. Appointment only. But in the next ten minutes, send him a text that his services are no longer required. Thank him cordially, blah, blah, blah. Then prepare rescinding orders for the eight-month termination plan, as well as the impoundment order, and the cessation of the government stop payment plan. You know the one.
“Oh, and I guess you’d better get us some more door security for the fall-out.” I gave Betty an opening to apprise me of my morning schedule, which I was already two hours ahead of.
After nodding, I asked her to come into the oval as soon as the rescinded letters were prepared, adding that they did not need the folder fanfare.
She was back with them within twenty minutes. “Elon is on his way over, Mr. President.”
I waved the notion off. “Have him stopped at the door… the building door, not my door.”
She turned back toward her office to issue the command and then returned with the documents. While signing them and directing that they be released to the press at the same time as normal distribution to relevant parties, I told her of the weekend arrangements I wished to organize.
“I know it’s short notice. But today’s what, Wednesday? Yeah. I want the leaders of both parties of both the House and the Senate, and their seconds and their thirds… I offered a non-committal wave… whoever they wish, just have them submit a list. To a summit at Camp David. Friday night is optional. We’ll have a couple meetings on Saturday and if anyone is still there, another on Sunday. A Saturday dinner would be good, don’t you think, Betty? Can it be done on that short notice?”
Betty was dumbfounded, speechless. Finally. She asked if that meant my weekend of golf with senators was to be canceled. Of course, she knew the answer to that, but I allowed for her shock and confusion. She assured me that the office of the Presidency could open doors and incentivize people.
“And speaking of canceling, everything that’s not public-oriented for the rest of the week… You know, like going to see veterans in the hospital, or meeting with decorated firefighters… things like that, cancel.
“Oh, and send for the Secretary of State. I need to see him ASAP.”
“ASAP, sir?”
I nodded. I could tell that she’d never heard me use that term before. After an interminable moment of her gawking at me, I satisfied her by suggesting she send for my personal physician. That settled her enough to leave the Oval Office to have my wishes obeyed. Let her think I’ve had a stroke. I expect she was preparing to call the Vice President and the cabinet to order enactment of the 25th Amendment.
By that afternoon I had a private cell phone for myself, one for Tom, and another for Hakeem Jeffries, the leader of the minority party. All my conversations with other politicians would be public. That afternoon the Secretary of State and I, much to his relief I’m convinced, made call after call to heads of state worldwide. We would continue with more the following day. The foreign leaders would need more than a phone call to assuage their fears concerning America’s positions, but it was a start.
I trusted the Secretary of State, but not enough for my next idea. For that, I needed 007, a superspy. I actually imagined myself calling Daniel Craig, or Tom Cruise, or one of the others. Don’t ask me how, but Joe Biden’s outgoing Secretary of Defense had an opened bottle of Smirnoff vodka from his attaché case resting on my desk, the Resolute. He’d taken it from the current Secretary of Defense’s office and already had his fingerprints lifted from it. There were photos and a witness list. The former Secretary was happy to be of service, though not all that cordial. I didn’t blame him.
With the evidence in hand, I had the Secretary’s resignation the same day. I think he was mad enough to show me his tattoo, but he didn’t. I thanked him for his service.
******
“Tom, I need you to go to Jeffries’ office and give them this phone. I’ve already called Nancy Pelosi and set it up. He’ll expect you between three and four. He’ll know that you have something from me, but won’t know what. I didn’t tell Nancy. My number’s in that phone. Tell him to call me from somewhere private whenever he can.”
Tom did, and Hakeem did, calling me a little after six that evening.
“Do you recognize my voice, Hakeem?”
“Yes sir, but with AI and modern technology…”
“I understand. Look, Will you be at Camp David tomorrow night, Friday night?”
“Yes sir, I will.”
“I made sure that they assigned you a cabin at the end, the last one occupied. I’m sure they thought it was a race thing. I have the key to the next one, the Birch House. If you’re the least bit curious, I’ll be inside with the lights off but for a little battery lamp at 3:30 in the morning. The door will be unlocked. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe.”
******
“Hakeem, you won’t want to believe this, but my name’s Philip Jansen. Here’s my full name, address, and social security number.” I handed him a note. “I woke up in Trump’s body three days ago.” I saw Hakeem’s head barely but perceptibly nod.
“The unexplained rescissions? Mr. President, I’m not much into the paranormal stuff. And no offense, but I’ve been around long enough not to question what’s right in front of my eyes.”
I nodded. “I don’t know how long this will last, but I’m telling you. I didn’t ask for it. But here I am. I woke up as Donald Trump. No one is more shocked than me. Hopefully until we can figure out how to get a different Vice President in and I can resign. Or until the midterms if we must. But I don’t want to be here that long.”
I could see the wheels turning. Hakeem was wondering what I was trying to pull, how I was trying to screw him around, whether it was some sort of prank to embarrass him or get something over on the minority party.
“That name, Phil. I imagine he’s about to be committed by now. Might already be in jail. I don’t know. If you would… When your people talk to him, you’ll… I’m sure you’ll see.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. President, I’ll see that he’s taken care of… well taken care of.”
I could tell that he meant in a good way. I could also tell that he was buying in to the truth. this crazy phenomenon.
“Look, I can’t go all the way, you know, switch sides. I think they’ll kill me. Or have me put away. Or poison my panties.”
Hakeem chuckled.
“I won’t give you away, Mr. President. And…” He held up the Walmart phone, his eyes questioning.
“Call me for anything really important. Just understand, I have to be Trump to get the House flipped, get public opinion… you know.”
Hakeem nodded.
“I might even go so far as to let those idiots shut the government down for a day or two.”
Hakeem nodded.
“I have to be Trump a little bit if it kills me.”
“Might it?” Hakeem asked. “Can you handle it? Do you have a pressure release?”
“Pray for me.” I bore into his eyes.
I held out my hands. His nod told me we were one. We had a prayer meeting right then and there. We tried to be quiet, but thankfully, the Secret Service had not seen me leave my building.
“Wonderfine,” I said to his crossed eyes, I explained mine and Tom’s code. “Without wonderfine…” But Trump, I don’t think, will be answering this phone. Or calling you.”
Hakeem nodded.
“We’ll see how this plays out, how well I can pull it off, get this nation back on the track of mercy, justice, and humble righteousness.”
“Why don’t you leave here first, Mr. President? I’ll watch your back.”
I tried to smile, hoping it didn’t look like a smirk. Hugging instead of shaking hands, I imagined his shock was not too unlike mine when I first looked in the mirror.
Someone Else writing prompt entry
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Writing Prompt You (or your character) wakes up and are someone different. |
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Before the contest was extended, IâÃÂÃÂd determined to divide it in two, possibly continuing with more segments. I apologize for the length of this post.
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and 62 member cents. Before the contest was extended, IâÃÂÃÂd determined to divide it in two, possibly continuing with more segments. I apologize for the length of this post.
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