| General Fiction posted February 14, 2025 | Chapters: |
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I woke up one morning feelin'...
A chapter in the book No - Say It Ain't So!
Say It Ain't So!, Ch 2
by Wayne Fowler
In the first chapter Philip Jansen woke up one morning in the White House in President Donald Trump’s body. Making rapport with White House service staffer, Tom McQuin, the new Trump decided to maximize the opportunity to make some course corrections, not knowing how long he would remain Donald Trump. Using Tom, he managed to get burner telephones for himself, Tom, and Hakeem Jeffries, pulling him into the conspiracy. A quickly arranged Camp David retreat began the process of upending Washington D.C.
Due to today’s events, I can’t hold to twice-a-week postings. It’ll just mean more modest pay outs. Sorry.
Due to today’s events, I can’t hold to twice-a-week postings. It’ll just mean more modest pay outs. Sorry.
Chapter Two
“Mr. President, your physician is here.” Betty, the chief of Staff led Dr. Schweitz in, following closely behind as if to stay.
“Thank you, Betty. Have you reviewed the presser book? I’d like to look it over.” I nodded toward the door. She got the drift.
“Dr. Schweitz?”
“Good morning, Donald.”
Dr. Schweitz was the only person to call me by my first name. I insisted on it at our first meeting the morning of my awakening. My physician being in a subservient role didn't feel right. I needed him to be honest.
“I have the results of the tests. But first I want to take your vitals, if you would sit and get comfortable. How’re you feeling? Any recent changes? Any thought troubling patterns?”
I knew he was asking about depression and suicide. Everyone with insurance and any age at all got the same barrage. “Fine, fine. Tell me Dr. Schweitz, do I qualify for those obesity pills?”
The doctor grinned as he took my pulse, and then fastened the blood pressure cuff. Once finished, he gave me a qualified passing grade and a video link for chair yoga. He also recommended I fast-walk and swim for at least an hour a day. He understood that a trip to Bethesda, the hospital, for a check-up would be a bad look this early in my term, but would send in the same nurse as on the first day to draw more blood.
I saw him to the door and asked Betty for the presser book. “Give me twenty minutes with this and then send in Kristen, would you?” I knew Betty didn’t like being treated like a common secretary, but what could I do? I’d only been Trump for a few days. And I knew not to trust anyone in this administration. Kristen was my press secretary.
“Kristen, I know this isn’t, wasn’t, in your orientation or training, but I want you to repeat after me. ‘I don’t know. I’ll try to find out.’”
Kristen’s jaw dropped, actually dropped. I saw her molars.
“It’s okay. Go ahead and say it. Because if it’s not in this book, that’s the response I want you to give. No matter what you think the party line is or what you are sure my position would be. ‘I don’t know. I’ll try to find out.’”
“Mr. President… I… I’m not sure…”
“Kristen, it’s all right if you don’t think you’re up to the task. You’ll still have a job here. But I need the press secretary to do this. I can get…”
“No sir. I don’t know. I’ll find out.”
“I’ll try to find out. And the next day, if you haven’t found out…”
“I don’t know yet, I’ll try to find out.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Kristen.” I released her to her studies.
“Mr. President, the Vice President is persistent. He wants to see you.” Betty was persistent, herself. It was Monday morning and not having been invited to the Camp David summit, he was, naturally, quite put out. I told her to find a few minutes for him the next day… and to be sure to bring me an update on the dog and cat eating in Ohio. That oughta set the tone.
That morning I woke and as had become my routine, immediately checked myself over to see who I was – Trump.
Acknowledging a solid six-and-a-half hours sleep, my Philip Jansen normal, I got up and was ready for the coffee that Tom said was nearly ready when I entered the kitchen.
“Good morning, Tom. What a wonderfine morning. Any plans for today?”
“At your service and disposal, sir.”
I thought his wording comical and chuckled at him. “Tom, I looked at your file, just so you know. How about you fill me in with what’s not in there.”
After setting a cup of coffee and a banana in front of me, he poured his own cup and took a seat.
“Not a lot to me.”
“To-om?” I said, dragging the question out, telling him that I didn’t believe him.
Tom sighed and began. “Troubled teenage years.”
I saluted with my coffee cup, acknowledging an understanding: compatico, simpatico.
“The Marines grew me up.”
Again, I saluted.
“Served on the Eisenhower.” That told him I’d looked at his military record, since the details of his service were not covered in his personnel folder. Tom stood close to six foot, beefy, but spry, not encumbered with dead-weight muscles. Even at his age, 64 last January, I would not want to have to race or wrestle him, especially considering my present condition.
Serving on the Eisenhower was what got him his White House position. Marines serving aboard U.S. Navy ships were the elite. More than bellhops or MPs, they served the Admiralty as personal guards and attachés. Tom had letters of recommendation from Admirals, both deceased, who’d supplied them decades past, and current, those who were junior officers back in the day, but remembered Tom favorably, supplying letters to accompany his application.
“College on the G. I. Bill.”
“Business Management,” I said, telling him I wanted what was not on the resume.
“Then some mercenary work.”
“Ahhh, the unexplained years: 1975 through ’78.”
Tom smiled.
“Iran…” He involuntarily looked around, knowing he was about to say what he been ordered to keep silent about. “East Germany.”
I nodded, holding up my hand as in that’s enough.
“This’n that when I let that go. Managed a Casey’s, a few of ‘em actually. Worked for a private investigator for a few years.”
“Until he was killed?” I said, gazing at him intently. “I got that from Benjamin. The White House does a pretty decent background check.”
“Yeah. His widow asked me to protect her and her kids through the transition and her move out of state.”
“Why you didn’t pursue the matter… physically.”
Tom nodded, a sadness on his face.
“You did the right thing. You would not have reached the final responsible party and you would most likely have been killed. Life ain’t the movies.”
Tom nodded again and rose to fill our cups.
“This’n that and here you are,” I summed up. “Now, how do you feel about traveling?”
Tom shrugged.
“Good. Because I already told Benjamin and Betty that I wanted you on Air Force One with me whenever we went anywhere. We’ll be going to New York City soon, and Brussels soon after that. A little diplomatic repair surgery.”
Tom nodded.
“Good. At about eight this morning, meet me on the second floor and I’ll take you to the West Wing and introduce you around, especially let the Secret Service know not to question your appearance anywhere.
Tom’s eyebrows lifted as he nodded.
“Oh, one more thing.” I studied him closely. “What do you think about me putting out a directive that anyone using the word felon in the White House or on the grounds would be tossed over the castle fence and then fired.?”
It took a moment but Tom finally replied.
“Might help with your balancing act, keep people believing you are yourself while simultaneously undoing more serious damage.”
“I think we’ll make a good team.”
photo from FanArtReview: FamousHouse!20 by nikman
Phil Jansen: woke up one day as Donald Trump
Donald Trump: woke up one day as Phil
Tom McQuin: White House butler
Betty Goodman: White House Chief of Staff
Dr.Schweitz: White House doctor
Hakeem Jeffries: as himself
I realize the song is not exactly on point, but...
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Phil Jansen: woke up one day as Donald Trump
Donald Trump: woke up one day as Phil
Tom McQuin: White House butler
Betty Goodman: White House Chief of Staff
Dr.Schweitz: White House doctor
Hakeem Jeffries: as himself
I realize the song is not exactly on point, but...
Artwork by nikman at FanArtReview.com
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