Melody Joy wrote:
President Allen S. Konigsberg always denied that he won the presidency based on his previous popularity as an actor/model/singer/dancer/film maker. However, he would not deny that the world was in serious jeopardy.
There are some fads that should remain popular forever, such as the full beard. There are some fads that should make occasional appearances to remind people of simpler times, such as the women’s bob cut. Then, there are some fads that should remain in the past, as their time has come and gone.
Such as the mullet.
The president himself sported a look that had previously been primarily featured only in fashion magazines. The sides were trimmed shorter than the crown of his head, and the front part swept forward, outward and upward like a large wave sweeping upward toward the heavens. Although the late night hosts joked that his hairstyle had helped him win the presidency, Konigsberg only disagreed with them in public. In private, when he stared at himself in his full-length mirror for over an hour every night as was his custom, he agreed with them. His hair is what made people take him seriously.
President Allen S. Konigsberg
But bad fashionistas and big TV networks around the world that celebrated them as not only acceptable but also as preferable had caused them to begin to make a comeback. It started in Japan, as these things always do, and soon had spread through China, Australia, India, France, and possibly Canada (this has been unconfirmed due to confusion over whether or not moose are people).
When it reached the shored of the United States at the heads of the popular England-based boy band That Direction, President Konigsberg knew it was time to take action. He had to save the world from mullets everywhere before the infection got worse, before this heinous fashion crime spread any farther. He feared what would happen if it hit Hollywood, or his own White House.
So, he did the only thing he knew. He held a press conference and paused for 6 pregnant seconds before addressing the world with the words that soon would become more popular than his acceptance speech in which he thanked spiral notebooks and the English language for winning him the presidency.
“My fellow Americans and non-Americans throughout the world. It is under the most distressing circumstances that I come to you today. It has been brought to my attention through several sources including MTV and America’s Next Top Model that a particular hairstyle had recently made a come-back despite the fact that it is the biggest abomination to fashion history. It is something that I refuse to even name. After much discussions with my most trusted advisors, I have concluded that there is only one way that I can repair the damage that has already been done and hopefully reverse as much of it as possible.”
One of his assistants stepped up to his side with a pair of electric hair clippers in his hand. The president took them and the world fell silent, waiting to see what he would do next. A soft buzz could be heard as he switched them on, and he was almost certain he could hear women across the nation screaming in protest as he put the clippers against his head and swept them slowly backwards against his scalp until there was a bald streak the length of his head and the width of the clippers. Taking a deep breath, he continued until there was nothing left of his luscious but patch stubble.
Pope Jon wrote:
No one could have seen this coming.
An uprising of boar? Horses possessed by demons? Potholes?
Livingbro County was in dismay, and there was only one man who could rally to save the world from the evil and turmoil that was spreading in the land he called home.
Lukas Hoek, President of the Beard Appreciation Society or Something, or BASS, whistled through his nose as he shook his head, a frown of grim determination on his handsome face. He paced through his room, searching desperately for his keys. The misplacement gave him time to consider his options. He knew his dear friend, Pope Jon would ride to his aid, but hesitated to rely on the reinforcements. The Pope's course, red beard, as mighty as it was, was a long ways off.
Gall dang it. Lukas thought, having realized he'd left his truck running the entire time he'd search for his keys. As he drove away, a quarter a tank of gas lighter, He considered his options. Kirkle would no doubt ride out with him against the boars. He could count on The Southern Calf and Tavioka the Tall as well. Even though he knew literally every man, woman, and child in all of Livingbro County, Lukas feared they would not be enough. Furthermore, Lukas could only trust so many of the horses, what with Mick the demon infesting and throwing ordinarily sound allies into chaos.
Lukas honked the car horn at a bird he spotted on a fence as he accepted what he must do.
It would seem that a mighty stand must be made, to hold the boars at bay until his allies from other counties could rally beard and bro to rout the offending boars, once and for all.
Lukas pulled one of his many knives out, clenched it tightly in his fist, and nodded slowly in determination. Luke could only think of one man he could look up to now, who's example would inspire him to the task set before him.
"What would Bauer do?"
Chuck C. wrote:
The Trial
Just elected by the first landslide victory in recent memory, President James J. Benjamin was considered by most to be the most dashing man to have ever held the office. A young forty-six years old, chiseled jawline, strong brown eyes, and a full head of salt and pepper hair that projects the wisdom of the ages and the vigor of youth. His swearing-in ceremony was attending by everyone from the Dalai Lama to the great Sir Elton John. It was quite the affair, one the whole nation turned their eyes to.
It was a short-lived celebration though. Not two minutes into sitting down at his desk the White House began to shake. The Chairman of the Joint chiefs of staff came crashing through the White House door with a cadre of secret service agents.
“Mr. President! NORAD has detected a large vessel descending on Washington D.C.,” the Chairmen shouted. The sky outside darkened. The president walked towards the window. A large circular vessel appeared from behind a wall of clouds. Its greenish-black hull blotted out the sun’s light and cast a shadow over the entire D.C area.
“Why wasn’t there any warning?” President Benjamin inquired, a incredible calm in his voice.
“NORAD satellites didn’t detect the thing until it was almost right on us. It must have some sort of cloaking....” The chairman was cut off by a large avian creature appearing right behind the newly-crowned president. The creature had winged arms and stood on two legs, deep black feathers, and a heavy pointed beak. The secret service agents leveled their machine pistols on the creature but dare not fire for fear of hitting the president. The bird-like creature leaped behind the president and grasped him tightly. It then reached for a button his wrist and the two of them disappeared in a blue-green flash.
The president appeared in the middle of an arena surrounded by similar bird-like creatures. They stood around on the bleachers, creaking and squawking madly. In front of him was none other than Vladimir Putin. President Benjamin was almost as shocked to see him as to be in a stadium full of avian aliens. Presumed dead after a large explosion two years previously at the Kremlin, the President of the Russian Federation had not been seen or heard from since. The source of the explosion remained a mystery to this day. Eye witnesses claim to have seen a large flash of green light but the reports were never confirmed. He looked a little worse for wear. Scars and wounds scored his rather toned body. He carried a rather flamboyantly shaped sword. He stood there, gripping the sword, his chest heaving with wild rage.
A loud klaxon sounded and the crowd all fell silent. “Mr. President, welcome to the trial!” a high pitched voice screeched, echoing throughout the large stadium. The crowd went wild with screeches at the word “Trial.” “The combined fleet of the Krehak has descended on your tiny planet. You are presented with a choice. Either you two fight, and fight to the death, or we turn your puny planet into a smoking crater. You choose.” A sword not unlike the one Putin carried dropped from the ceiling at the feet of the young president.
He was still in shock from the sudden and massive change in circumstances when Vladimir Putin screamed like a wild banshee and lunged at him, kicking him to the floor. He raised his sword and looked down at the president.
“Dosvedanya, Mr. President” He said as he lunged with his blood stained blade. President Benjamin rolled out of the way, his years of martial arts training engaging.
“Vladimir, we don’t have to play their game” He begged as the Russian leader. It was useless. The man was near feral in his appearance and demeanor. He came at the president with ferocity. The President blocked and parried each blow expertly.
“Vlad! Stop! We can find another way,” he cried. Again, it was futile. The president short kicked the Russian leaders ankle, swept with his other leg and pushed him to the ground. He pressed his knee against the struggling mans chest and raised his sword, ready to plunge it into his chest. For brief moment peace came over Putin's face. He gazed into the eyes of the young president.
“Kak! Kak! Kak!” The crowd chanted. He didn’t need to know their language to know what they wanted him to do.
“Do it, Jim. End my misery.... Save the world,” Putin whispered. The President, his chest heavy, ready to finish it, paused.
“No Vlad, we are better than this,” he said. He threw his sword and stood up. He extended his hand to the fallen leader, offering help up. Putin took his offer and stood up next to him. The crowd fell silent for the first time since he had arrived.
“We are not savages! We do not kill each other for sport, we do not play for the entertainment of some inter galactic bully. Destroy us if you wish, but I will not compromise who we are to save us,” he shouted at the crowd.
He heard a slow clap from the distance. A regally-adorned bird-like creature emerged from the shadows. “Congratulations Mr. President, you passed the test.”
He winked and snapped his fingers. There was a flash of light and suddenly the President and the Russian leader were back in the Oval Office. The Secret Service agents leveled thier guns on them momentarily before realizing who it was.
“Mr. President!” They rushed to his side. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff ran over to him, “What happened Jim? All the ships have left and broken orbit. What did you do?... Wait... Is that Vladimir Putin? Tell me what’s going on Jim!” he asked excitedly.
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” he said, looking out the window towards the sky, contemplating what was meant by the royal-looking bird-man, “But I have a mean craving for some KFC. Who's game?”
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