The Grey House Watch

At the bottom of the tank, a glass dome sits. Inside, many cichlids swim in circles. They're trapped. And they're all the color of popcorn.

In the side of the dome, a small hatch opens. A sole cichlid swims through. It swims free, leaving its inmates trapped in the dome. It tries to swim away...

Novak, the gay elephatfish, gobbles him down as he swims past. As far as he's concerned, the cichlid tastes like popcorn.

Around him, Cyrus and Ambruso do the same thing. They swim in place. They don't move, other than use their swim bladders to maintain the right buoyancy. Tonight, they're watching a sport, as they watch over the President's precious Grey House.

THIS GAME IS A MASTERPIECE IN THE WILD WORLD OF SPORTS, Ambruso praises it, telepathically. I'D LIKE TO SHAKE THE FIN OF THE GENIUS WHO INVENTED IT.

Telepathically, Cyrus scoffs. THAT'D BE US, he reminds his gay partner.

Ambruso hesitates. IN THAT CASE, I'D LIKE TO FIND A WAY TO SHAKE THE FIN OF THE GENIUS WHO INVENTED IT WITHOUT THROWING A WRENCH INTO THE DAILY RHYTHMS OF BOTH OUR SWIM BLADDERS.

Novak shakes his head. LESS TALKING; MORE WATCHING.

OF COURSE, Cyrus pledges. I WOULDN'T MISS THIS BIG GAME FOR THE WORLD...GAY OR STRAIGHT.

Tonight, the Speaker of the House is atop the Vice President. They're both atop the President's desk. As he fucks her, the desk scoots back and forth, across the floor. The carpet has been ripped away, where it's slid. The desk hits opposite walls of the Oval Office, and makes thunder. Neither the Speaker nor the Vice President mean to do this; the elephantfish are telekinetically forcing them to have sex with one another.

I THOUGHT WE WERE GAY, Ambruso protests. WHY AREN'T WE WATCHING TWO men DO IT?

WE WILL, Cyrus insists. JUST HOLD ON TO YOUR PINK SCARF.

I DON'T WEAR A PINK SCARF.

IT'S JUST AN EXPRESSION.

OF COURSE, Ambruso recalls. GAY MALE FASHION. I TELEPATHICALLY OVERHEARD SOME OF THE ZOO WORKERS TALKING ABOUT THAT ON MY TRIP FROM BURUNDI. With that, Ambruso pulls a switch on the wall of the tank. Another live cichild swims up, and he snarfs it down.

Next, they watch the Senate majority leader and the House minority leader do it. They make even more noise, and leave even more skids in the wood beneath the Oval Office carpet; this time, they're both male.

AH, THIS IS MORE LIKE IT, Cyprus praises. VOYEURISM, AND WHO IT should STALK...

SOMEHOW, Novak worries, I THINK WE SHOULD DO A BETTER JOB OF WATCHING OVER THE PRESIDENT'S OFFICE WHILE HE'S IN PROTECTIVE CUSTODY.

A.Y.F.K.M.? HE'S IN SOME WILDERNESS HAVING WILD AND CRAZY SEX WITH THE AFROASIAN PRESIDENT, WHILE THE FIRST LADY SITS IN A HOSPITAL BED IN A CATATONIC STATE. HE'S HAVING ALL THE SEXUAL FUN HE COULD POSSIBLY HAVE. IF HE CAN, WHO'S TO KEEP US FROM DOING THE SAME?

WE'RE STEWARDS, Novak insists, NOT THE PRESIDENT. WE SHOULDN'T RUN THIS COUNTRY AS IF IT WAS OURS; THERE ARE NO WILD ELEPHANTFISH IN NORTH AMERICA, IN CASE YOU FORGOT.

Next, the House majority leader and the Senate minority leader do it. They make just as much noise and racket just as involuntarily. In the walls, cameras record the action. The elephantfish control them.

I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE PRESIDENT, Cyrus insists. TONIGHT, AND FOR EVERY NIGHT, AS LONG AS IT TAKES THE FUCKING DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY TO CATCH THE PRESIDENT'S ATTEMPTED ASSASSIN, THE GREY HOUSE IS MY BUSINESS. AND I'M GOING TO RUN IT AS ALL GAY MEN WOULD, IF ONLY THE N.A.U. WOULD HURRY THE FUCK UP, AND FUCKING ELECT THEIR FIRST FUCKING GAY MALE PRESIDENT! SPEAKING OF THE D.H.S...

The elephantfish force the Attorney General, the Secretary of Defense, and Secretary of Homeland Security to engage in a threesome on the Grey House dining room table. They all make the most noise and racket yet.

THIS FEELS DANGEROUS, Ambruso admits. THESE MEN SHOULD BE DANGEROUS ENOUGH TO LEAVE A CRATER WHERE PYONGYANG IS.

AND TO THINK THAT THEY HAVEN'T, Cyrus points out. UNCLE SAM REALLY DOES MAKE POOR CHOICES IN ITS LEADERSHIP...EVEN IF THEY DO LOOK GOOD IN BED WITH EACH OTHER.

BED?! WE'RE NOT DOOMED TO STAY IN EXILE, ARE WE?

Next, they force a Navy admiral to participate in a threesome with a colonel from the Virginia Army National Guard, and a major from the Maryland Air National Guard. And yes, just like before, they're all VERY male.

WE COULD'VE LOADED THEIR PANTS WITH GRENADES, Ambruso suggests. SEEMS LIKE THE GREY HOUSE NEVER GETS ENOUGH FIREWORKS. AND TO THINK THIS COUNTRY MADE FIREWORKS FAMOUS!

THAT WOULD BE CHINA, Cyrus reminds him. WE MERELY TURNED THE WHITE AND BLUE ONES INTO AN INDUSTRY. WOULD'VE DONE THE SAME FOR THE RED ONES, EXCEPT IT'S PRETTY CLEAR THAT CHINA BEAT US TO THOSE. THE COMMUNISTS, SPECIFICALLY...

Next, they force the directors of the FBI, DEA, and ATF to do a threesome. They make less noise...but it's still more noise than the lawmakers made.

EON PRODUCTIONS WILL PROBABLY NEVER CAST A GAY JAMES BOND, Novak laments. AND TO THINK THAT IDRIS ELBA AND EMILY BLUNT ARE TRYING TO DO THEIR PART TO ADD SOME SPICE TO 007'S HERITAGE...

TOM HIDDLESTON MIGHT BE GAY, Cyrus suggests. BUT IF HE IS, HE HASN'T COME OUT YET...THAT I KNOW OF.

In a back room, the elephantfish deviously and telekinetically sign several bills into law, and veto several others. They do all of this in the President's prolonged absence.

THE PRESIDENT'S NOT GOING TO LIKE THE MESS HE'LL COME HOME TO, Novak dreads. WE SHOULD PROBABLY CLEAN UP...

Cyrus flips the switch on the tank wall, and gobbles down some popcorn cichlids. DON'T BE SUCH A GROWNUP. TONIGHT IS ALL ABOUT US. AND WE WILL OWN THIS NIGHT UNTIL THERE'S NONE OF IT LEFT TO OWN...AS WE WILL EVERY SINGLE NIGHT UNTIL PRESIDENT GRANT II COMES HOME.

They all have some more cichlids. They sure are good, they think.

WE COULD'VE TRIED POPCORN SHRIMP, Novak recommends. I READ SOMEWHERE, IN ONE OF THE FIRST LADY'S COOKBOOKS, THAT THEY'RE NOT THAT HARD TO MAKE...

THESE CICHLIDS ARE BUTTERLICIOUS ENOUGH FOR A WHOLE LAKE OF US, MY DEAR NOVAK, Cyrus insists. ALSO, IF YOU'RE GOING TO SWIM IN RIGHTIST PONDS, YOU'VE GOT TO BE WILLING TO PREFER YOUR NATION'S OWN DOWN-HOME COOKING OVER THE FOREIGN-MADE SHIT.

Ambruso scoffs. THIS IS A POND?! AND I THOUGHT LIFE IN LAKE TANGANYIKA WAS TOO RESTRICTED. He hesitates. THEY'D LAUGH AT ME, IF THEY HEARD ME SAY THAT, OF COURSE. AS FAR AS THEY'RE CONCERNED, we're THE ONES WHO DID ALL THE RESTRICTING. BUT THEY'VE NO IDEA HOW MUCH HARDER IT'S GOTTEN TO HUNT THEM, SINCE THE FIRST OF OUR ANCESTORS EVOLVED TO PERFECTION.

YOUR NOSTALGIA IS INSPIRATIONAL, MY DEAR AMBRUSO, Cyrus praises. BUT YOU'RE A NORTH AMERICAN NOW. YOUR SOUL MUST ASSIMILATE TO UNCLE SAM'S, JOHN REYNOLDS'S, JOSEPH DUNCAN'S, WILLIAM HENRY BISSELL'S, BRUCE RAUNER'S, JOHN JAY'S, WILLIAM SEWARD'S, JOHN ALSOP KING'S, AND GEORGE PATAKI'S. WHEN WE FINISH THIS, I CAN TELEKINETICALLY PUT ON A HANK WILLIAMS RECORD FOR YOU, IF...

YOU'RE VERY GENEROUS, Ambruso thanks him, BUT AS LONG AS HE'S NORTH AMERICAN TOO, I THINK I'D PREFER A JOHN LEE HOOKER RECORD.

Novak arches his fish eyelids. I MUST CONFESS, CYRUS; YOU'VE IMPORTED A GAY THREESOME PARTNER WITH SOME GREAT TASTES IN MUSIC.