“The pandemic is over,” Joe said sadly.

“I know, Mr. President,” Karine said. “But you weren’t actually supposed to say that.”

“I’m the President,” Joe replied.

“But we prepared your remarks so carefully and they were right there on the Teleprompter,” she said. “We were all really disappointed.”

“Would you just leave him alone?” Finnegan asked. “He’s tired. The flight back from England has him all worn out.”

“I was on TV,” Joe said. “I’m the President. How do you–listen here, Jack.”

“Who’s Jack, Grandpa?”

“Jack. Jack. He’s Jack, goddammit,” Joe said, the dry skin around his eyes flaking as he squinted.

Karine looked at Finnegan and sighed loudly.

“Did I just go to a funeral?” Joe asked querulously.

“Yes, for the Queen of England,” Finnegan said.

“The Queen of England died?” Joe asked.

“You just went to her funeral,” Karine said.

“I’m focused,” Joe asserted. “Mentally focused. I’m all there up in the head. The proof is in the eating of the pudding a man once said and I want to honor him today.”

“Don’t get agitated, Grandpa,” Finnegan said.

“Agitated? Who’s agitated, dammit?” he demanded, his voice rising. “I was on oxygen on the plane and I feel great.”

“This happens when he flies,” Finnegan said.

“I HAD TO FLY, dammit!” Joe said. “Damn dammit damn! Damn, damn, damn.”

“How about I draw you a nice bath?” Finnegan asked. “Do you want a bath? Nice warm bath?”

“The Queen died,” Joe said. “I had to go to her funeral.”

“Of course you did,” Karine agreed.

“I’m the President. Me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“No one else is the President,” Joe insisted. “That’s why the pandemic is over. I won.”

“Not officially, sir,” Karine mumbled.

“I called off the pandemic,” Joe said. “I am science.”

“Dr. Fauci is science, sir,” Karine said. “There can’t be two sciences.”

Joe arghed like a comic strip protagonist and collapsed.

“I guess I’m just happy I got a chance to say goodbye.”

 

One last sniff.