“They’ve indicted my son,” Joe said. “My son.” His eyes filled with thick tears that spilled over his stretched-tight lower eyelids and snaked down his face like a wacky wall-walker.

“I’m sorry I’m the one that had to tell you, Mr. President,” Karine said, shuffling her feet on the rug. “We’ll get him the best lawyers possible.”

“Maybe it’s time the boy tasted some consequences, Joe,” Dr. Biden said. “Jail might be best for him.”

“He can’t go to jill, Jail. He’s my only boy since the Taliban killed Beau,” Joe said, shaking.

“It might be good for the campaign, Joe,” Kamala said. “They have jailed my son, my son! You can campaign on that,” she said as she struggled to light the Oval Office menorah.

“Everyone just hold on,” Finnegan said. She crossed to behind Joe and checked behind the curtains and the long-suffering ficus, and pulled up the trap door to make sure Hunter wasn’t waiting to spring out. “OK… I also think it’s time for him to see some punishment.”

“I can’t believe you would throw your own father under the bus like that,” Kamala said. “For does not the Talmud tell us that ‘So it ain’t forgotten, hope I don’t spoil the nigga rotten, if taught him right, if not he like ask heavenly father, help me raise my shorty right?”

“What da fuck?” Karine asked, sass bubbling out of her like a science fair volcano.

“Anti-semite!” Kamala spat at her.

“You are about as Jewish as a pulled pork sandwich!” Karine said, pulling off her earrings.

“A-a-a-a pulled pork sandwich sounds pretty good, right now,” Joe said. “When is lunch?”

“About 20 hours from now,” Dr. Biden said.

“I want a rabbi brought in immediately!” Kamala demanded. “I won’t have this, this goyim lesbisplaining my religion to me!”

“I went to Hebrew school for nine years,” Joe said proudly. “I love pork.”

Hunter came sliding into the Oval Office in sock feet, his jockstrap inked with a crude American flag. “Second Amendment, bitches!” he sang.

“The Second Amendment only applies to muskets,” Karine yelped as her implant hit her with an electric shock.

Hunter smiled at her, $70,000 in dental work chipped and gray. He moved in for a grinding hug. She stiff-armed him into Joe’s desk.

“I’ve stopped drinking, Hunter,” she said, the whites of her eyes a piss-yellow. “Don’t even try it.”

“You won’t want to eat seafood for every meal,” Hunter said. He snapped his jock straps and did a sloppy pirouette.

“You need more rehab!” Dr. Biden said, digging in her purse for her prescription pad.

“What you’ve been charged with is a perfectly reasonable restriction on gun rights. And, furthermore…” Finnegan paused and her face went dead. “You know what, I’m not doing this today.” She walked out of the Oval Office. Dr. Biden called her name and followed her.

“Coward,” Kamala sniffed. “Reformed Reformed Judaism tells us, ‘Bitches ain’t shit but hoes and tricks.”

Hunter sat down on the desk and fingered the tabs of flesh behind each of Joe’s ears tenderly. Joe woke up and smiled.

“My boy,” he said, his face spasmodically twitching.

“Karine, we shouldn’t fight,” Kamala said, “We’ve got Black Girl Magic!”

“OK, sure,” Karine said tiredly.

Kamala cackled in delight. “Do you want to help me light the Kwanzaukkah candle?”