|I shot bin Laden myself, with my skeet gun|
Obama, surrounded by his entourage and security detail, leaves and heads back to the Oval Office.
[Chief of Staff guy who took over for the guy who took over for Daley who took over for Rahm] "Sire! How could you say something like that?"
[Obama] "Easy. Lying comes second nature to me."
[CoS guy] "But sire, aren't you worried that somebody might call you out on that lie? Challenge you to a skeet contest? Something like that?"
[Obama] "Nah. Everything will be fine."
The Chief of Staff exits. About five seconds later, he barges back in.
[CoS guy] "Sire! Some Republican congresschick dared you to a skeet-shooting competition. Bitter clingers across the country are laughing at the idea of you handling a shotgun. You must appear for a photo op! You must, lest your carefully crafted tough-guy image be tarnished!"
[Obama] "Ok, ok. Get Joe and his Beretta shotgun and some Secret Service guys with some of their guns and let's head to Camp David."
The pResident's helicopter, Marine-1, touches down at Camp David. The pResident bumps his head as he disembarks, prompting howls of laughter from the veep and the Secret Service personnel.
[Obama, angrily] "Knock it off. Big deal, I bumped my head. Again."
[Biden, stifling laughter] "Sir, hee, sir... It's not that. It's that hee you look ridiculous in that hee hunting outfit. Worse than when John hee hee Effin Kerry went shoppin' for one 'em huntin' licenses."
[Sec. Service Agent] "Sir. The first rule of gunhandling is to treat every weapon as if it is loaded, until you have personally confirmed that it is not. The second rule, is keep your finger off the trigger until you are ready to fire. The third rule is never let you muzzle (that's where the stuff comes out) point at anything you're not willing to destroy. The fourth rule is always be aware of who/what is downrange..."
[Obama, interrupting] "Enough with the rules nonsense. I make the rules. I am The One. Gimme a shotgun."
[Sec. Service Agent] "Here's a .410 to start you off with."
[Obama] "Wait! Joe! Didn't you say that with shotguns, the smaller the number the more powerful it is? That would mean .410 is like a stick of dynamite!"
[Biden] "Sir, the .410 is an exception. It refers to the diameter of the shell. Which can differ from the diameter of the muzzle, depending on the choke. There's cylinder choke, modified choke, full choke..."
[Obama, interrupting again] "Stop it! Stop making it so complicated, you guys!"
The pResident takes the offered shotgun, and promptly ignores every safety rule. The muzzle swings past the veep's head as a finger hits the trigger...
BLAM! A few plugs of hair are blown off Joe's moptop.
[Biden] "Wow! That was kinda loud!"
[Sec. Service Agent] "Ready, Mr. pResident? When you say 'pull' I'll launch a clay pigeon. Start a little behind the pigeon and swing the muzzle through the path of the pigeon. Pull the trigger right when your muzzle is pointing at the pigeon and follow through. At this range, that will help you lead the target just the right amount."
The pigeon flies.
The pigeon lands in the grass, unbroken. Leaves on a distant tree are struck, however.
[Sec. Service Agent] "OK. Maybe we should try the 12ga. It has a lot more pellets, which will improve your chances of making contact." [Hands Obama a 12ga]
[Obama] "This thing is HUGE! It'll knock me totally cattywampus!"
[Sec. Service Agent] "Don't worry, sir. We're using sporting clays loads. They're really light. Not much more than that .410, actually."
[Obama] "Sporting? The only sport I'm good at is basketball. I could dunk over any one of you fools. But any other sport, I suck. My whole body just kind of convulses like Joe does when he drinks his slurpee too fast."
[Sec. Service Agent] "You'll be OK. Trust me."
[Obama] "OK. 'Pull!' "
The pigeon flies.
The pResident slams backward cartoonishly, his feet acting like a hinge, and lands flat on his back with the muzzle pointed skyward."
[Obama] "Did I get it?"
The pigeon lands in the grass, intact.
[Biden] "Nope! Try 'er again!"
[Sec. Service Agent] "Sir, this time lean into it, and hold your cheek tightly against the stock."
[Obama, still on the ground] "No! Just take a @#$%^&* picture of me holding a shotgun and get me the hell outta here!"