The Situation Room: a Story from Three Perspectives

Inside the War Room

“Mr. President. A phone call has just come in from Slovakia. The Slovakian women are on the warpath again.”

The president turned to his aide with a grim expression. “It was only a matter of time. What do they want?”

“They’re demanding contraception and the latest edition of Glamour magazine, Mr. President.”

The president slammed his hand on the table. “We can’t give them that. You know we can’t give them that. We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“Mr. President, they’re threatening to steamroll the Balkans with their superior ironing technology.”

“Dammit,” exclaimed the president. “We should never have trained them in the art of permanent press. With all the loose Soviet irons still floating around, we should have seen this coming.”

The secretary of defense ran in, panting. “Mr. President! Our military base in the Balkans has just reported seeing an armed band of Czech housewives roaming the countryside and terrorizing the locals.”

“They’ve called in their allies, Mr. President,” said the aide, anxious. “What should we do?”

The President sighed. “There’s only one person we can call. This is a job for…Amelia Bedelia.”

As Told by a Character Who Is Extremely Insecure

I entered the Oval Office timidly. I tried to shut the door quietly, but it made a loud squeak, just like last time. I approached the President’s desk, accidentally stumbling on the carpet and falling on my face. I was about to ask the President if he wanted any more cream for his coffee, but then that stupid senior aide John shoved me aside and started shouting.

“Mr. President, A phone call has just come in from Slovakia. The Slovakian women are on the warpath again.”

As I picked myself up off the floor for a second time, the President looked around the room grimly. I tentatively proffered the jar of CoffeeMate I had cradled to my bosom all the way here from the White House kitchen, but he took no notice. I flushed with shame.

“It was only a matter of time. What do they want?” said the President, looking right past me at that stupid prick John.

John looked at me smugly and straightened his stupid tie. “They’re demanding contraception and the latest edition of Glamour magazine, Mr. President.” John always thought he had all the answers. I was finally going to show him up by bringing the President’s favorite flavor of instant coffee, but alas, I had been foiled again.

The president slammed his hand on the table. I jumped in terror. “We can’t give them that. You know we can’t give them that. We don’t negotiate with terrorists.” I nodded fervently to show my support of this policy. John nodded too, glancing over at me to make sure he was nodding just a tiny bit harder. We were engaged in a full-out nodding war when the Secretary of Defense burst in.

“Mr. President, the Slovakians are threatening to steamroll the Balkans with their superior ironing technology.”

“Dammit,” exclaimed the president. “We should never have trained them in the art of permanent press. With all the loose Soviet irons still floating around, we should have seen this coming.” My ears perked up at the sound of irons. This was my chance. I had once held a summer job as a Laundromat attendant. Perhaps my expertise could finally be of use.

“They must have called in their allies, Mr. President,” said John. “What should we do?”

I glared at John. I had seen him looking up the definition of “allies” on dictionary.com just five minutes ago. What a tool.

The President sighed. “There’s only one person we can call. This is a job for…Amelia Bedelia.”

As Told by Mike “The Situation” Sorrentino

So me and the President was hangin’ out this one time, you know, in that office that’s like a circle or some shit like that. Gettin’ our gym on, then our tan on, and then we was just about to get our laundry on when some juicehead runs in looking like a total mess. And then he was all like, “Mr. President, there’s some huge-ass situation,” and I was thinking, “Yeah, no shit man, it’s right here on my stomach,” but the President missed the point and was just like, “Shit, man, we gotta do something about that shit.” And then the juicehead was all like, “Yeah, no shit, but what we gonna do?” And the President was just like, “Mike, what do you think?” And I was like, “Nuke that shit. Fuck em up real good over there. We don’t need none of that shit.” And the President was like “Shit man, that’s the best advice I’ve ever gotten.” Even the juicehead looked impressed. But maybe that’s just cause of my abs, which you know are kind of a situation all by themselves, it’s fuckin awesome. And then some other juicehead ran in ranting about checks or some shit like that, and then the President just looks at him and says, “Nuke that shit.” And then those guidos got out of there real fast and me and the President was just chillin’ like nothing happened.