Presidential Advisor

Date: 7/9/2016

I'm at a meeting of sorts, but have to go to class too. It's presidential. Brian has to hurry up and get out of there, so he rushes to a seat, then stands up to ask Obama a question. He cuts him off and tells him to text him, cuz it's puff news, and they both know it. Brian dips. I'm sitting cross legged on a pool lounge chair with cushions to his left, Michelle is to his right, he leans over and asks if Brian has class. "Yes, sir." Do you have class he asks. I say, "the same class sir." He continues with the meeting but it has to end because he's exhausted and can barely speak, like he's black out drunk. Michelle and I try to carry him out of there, but there's too many people and stairs. Michelle needs to play defense, and it's easier if I carry him myself. We get space and I put him down by an elevator. I don't know which floor is the White House. A yuppie from the meeting exits the elevator and I shield Obama from him, and make a shitty lie, yuppie believes it. I look back at Obama's struggling facial expressions and body trying to get back up and continue, but it's clear that his system is shutting down.