“WHERE’S NANCY!” Joe screamed. He slammed his hammer down on the Resolute desk and a can of Diet Coke shot upwards and buried itself into the ceiling.

“Who gave him a HAMMER?!?” Finnegan yelled. “You all know hammers get him aroused!”

“It wasn’t me,” Kamala said, holding one of her shoes, readying to throw it.

“It’s never you, is it?” Dr. Jill Biden rhetoricalized.

“WHERE IS NANCY! I NEED NANCY!” Joe screamed. He threw the hammer at the window behind the desk. It bounced off the armored glass and dropped to the floor.

“Nancy’s in San Francisco,” Finnegan said.

“I’m not buying it, Jack!” Joe was only wearing underwear and he had hiked them up to his gray-haired nipples.

“Why is he just in his underwear?” Kamala asked as Joe swayed back and forth.

“He wanted to trick-or-treat as my Dad for Halloween,” Finnegan said.

“Underwear. Hammer. Screaming about Nancy Pelosi,” Dr. Biden, Ed.D said. “I think it’s more likely that he thinks he’s DeBarge.”

“Depape, Grandma,” Finnegan said. “DeBarge is a band.”

“Who would name a band after a barge?” Kamala asked.

“Is that really important right now?” Finnegan snapped.

“Tripledemic!” a robotic voice filled with feedback screeched. Tony’s isolation pod, now little more than a smooth white egg, was carried into the Oval Office by a large naked man whose skin glistened with seed oil.

“Joe has the tripledemic: flu, COVID and RSV,” Tony voicebox squawked.

“Then vaccinate him again!” Dr. Grandma said.

“We can’t!” Tony said. “Lump! Put me down!” Tony’s egg landed on the floor with a heavy thud.

“Gentle, Lump, gentle,” Tony crooned.

“He has to be on for tonight,” Dr. Jill Babysitter said. “He has to really sparkle!”

“No!” Tony said in his angry toaster oven voice. “You must look at the most recent set of x-rays!”

One of the walls of the Oval Office rolled back and a medical scene was added. Lithe figures all in black turned on a projector strapped to an AV cart and slipped away. Joe’s skull at 10x lit up an entire wall.

“Look here,” Tony crackled, a laser pointer stabbing out from the egg. It circled around Joe’s brain case.

“This can’t be right!” Kamala said, not looking up from her phone.

“What am I looking at?” Dr. Jill asked.

“It’s Grandpa’s brain,” Finnegan said in a loud stage whisper.

“I know that!” Jill snapped.

“Ladies…” Tony said. “As you can see, Joe’s brain is one gigantic blood clot at this point.”

Everyone, including Joe, gasped. Joe had no idea why he gasped but gasp he did.

“Him brain no look good,” Fetterlump grunted as he began to play with himself. “Pee-pee slippy,” he added.

Kamala cried out, “Midterms!” and fainted like an inbred goat.