Barack Obama munched on his Corn Pops thoughtfully. He mused about an x-files episode he'd seen last night, one regarding mites. Mites could indeed prove to be a national disaster. "Mites are a serious problem facing America today," he said quietly, trying the sentence out. Then he allowed himself a quiet (though presidential) giggle. He liked to say silly things in his president voice. It was good practice for when he had to say silly things for real, like he meant it, in front of silly microphones and cameras. Things were so sunny whenever he had his Corn Pops. Free and thoughtful. He set his spoon back into the bowl.
"COME TO DADDY!!" a voice said. It was behind him.
Obama whirled around, only to see fancy wallpaper. He looked left. He looked right. He looked at the ceiling. He looked under the table. There was nothing there. Obama scowled. He didn't appreciate having his Corn Pops interrupted, and he certainly didn't appreciate feeling like a mental patient. He'd dismissed the earlier incidents to being half-asleep, but now he was starting to debate clearing some of his schedule that day. The doctors had said the brain chip would have no side-effects... in any case, he still felt in control of his facilities, and his 9am press conference on the ties between H1N1 and the walnut industry was not something he could exactly cancel on a dime. He nervously finished his breakfast, listening carefully for voices. He heard none, and started to relax a bit. He stood up -- presidentially -- and strode off to prepare for his press conference.
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