“Bomb cyclone!” Joe said as he toddled across the white sands of the St. Croix beach.

“We are far from the storm, Joe,” Dr. Biden said, caressing the loose, spotted flesh hanging from his arm.

“It’s warm here,” he said, staring at the sun. “And there is sand.”

“Yes, dear,” she said. “There is sand.”

A stray dog ran past them both, paws digging into the sand for purchase, skinny small and gray. “Commander!” Joe called after it.

“That’s not our dog,” Dr. Jill said. “He’s back in Delaware.”

“Delaware is…” Joe said and trailed off into silence.

“Here he is,” Dr. Grandma said, pointing to the man walking toward them along the beach. He was carrying an entire pineapple filled with rum and skewered fruit.

“Hello, Eirc, so good to see you again,” she said warmly, her lips slithering across his face in a polite kiss.

“Missus President,” he said and turned to Joe. “Mr. President.”

“Thank God you’re here, Barry,” Joe said. “I don’t think this is Delaware.”

“This is Eric, dear,” First Jill Lady said.

“Eric?” Joe asked, perking up. “It’s been so long, it’s so good to see you.”

Eric stared over his pineapple as he drank. He knew Joe had no idea who he was.

Jill put an hand on Joe’s arm and said, “Why don’t you go look for shells, dear.”

“Can I keep any I find?” he asked excitedly.

“Of course you can. But stay out of the water.”

“I was a lifeguard,” Joe said proudly as he walked stiffly away, staring at the sand intently.

“Is he OK?” Eric asked.

“He has his good days and his bad,” Education Doctor Biden said.

“You wanted to talk to me, ma’am?” Eric asked, throwing away his empty boozeapple.

“On a good day he remembers he’s going to run again for President in 2024,” she said. “And we need your help.”

“Wouldn’t a doctor be of more help?” he asked, watching Joe stuff handful after handful of sand into his pockets.

“I am a doctor,” she said forcefully. “What we need is a running mate.”

“What?” Eric asked.

“A running mate, a Vice President, Kamala is a disaster,” she said.

“Will the electorate accept taking her off the ticket?”

“No one likes her, she’s a void, a nothing, a braying laugh that can’t even follow her cue cards.”

“But the voters,” Eric began.

“They vote for who we tell them too, or we harvest them for ballots,” she said.

“I don’t know, I’ve got a pretty good grift running in New York,” he said.

“Small potatoes,” she said. “And you’ll be positioned to run for President yourself in 2028.”

“I have always wanted to be the first Black President,” Eric mused aloud.

“Good. We start working on getting Kamala to pull out,” Jill.edd said, laughing.

“What if she doesn’t want to go?” he asked.

“Joe!” Dr. Wife screamed. “Don’t put that in your mouth. Spit it out. SPIT. IT. OUT!”

 

Biden heads to St. Croix as winter blast kills dozens, cancels 10,000 flights

Mayor Eric Adams soaked up sun in US Virgin Islands as bomb cyclone pounded NYC