“Where-wh-where are the vaccine numbers?” Joe asked. “I need more vaccine.”

“You’ve been vaccinated, Mr. President,” Jen said softly.

“Jen!” Joe said. “When didididid you get here?”

“Just now,” she said brightly, brushing her red hair over her ears with both hands. She had been at the meeting for over an hour.

“Jen,” Joe said fondly and inhaled noisily. “Strawberries. You always smell like strawberries.”

“The vaccine numbers, Grandpa,” Finnegan said.

“I’ve already been vacancy-natted,” Joe whispered loudly, smiled, farted, smiled wider, and stared out the window for a few seconds.

“That’s President Grandpa to you!” Joe said suddenly.

“Sir, two hundred thousand more people may die in the coming months,” Fauci rasped, rustling like ancient paper as he squirmed in his isolation pod.

“Two hundeded million! That’s more people than live in New York!” Joe exclaimed and passed out.

“Where’s Harris?” Fauci asked, shedding flakes of neck skin as he scanned the room.

Jen shrugged.

“I have to prepare for my next TV appearance,” Fauci said as the pod began to fill with Jurgens.

“Fine, go,” Jen said. “Fucking vampire.”

“He’s not a vampire,” Finnegan said, following Jen out of the room. “Vampires are sexy, not all old and gross.”

Stunned by this lack of self-awareness, Jen numbly returned to her office and proof-read her resume for the fourth time that morning.

 

MEANWHILE, IN FLORIDA

“Give me back my son, you lizard sumbitch!” Donald hollered, racking his shotgun and firing at the alligator again.

“Yew get’em, Donny!” Melania cried, eyeliner and tears of rage running down her face.

“I had Gogurt for lunch!” Barron screamed.

“Muh Hat son!” Donald wailed.

“What the fuck is happening?” the hat asked as frozen iguanas fell from the sky.

“I think that alligator ate USA hat,” the hair observed from the armadillo he was riding, bareback, as it shit little rabbitish pellets on the lawn.

“I hate this place,” the hat moaned as he began to molest a stunned iguana.