Presidential Love 2: Even More Presidential

#obump4life

"My fellow American," Obama declared in bed to his lover, lying beside him, in a passionate, yet rather presidential way, "sex time is over. It is time to get out of bed and eat brekky."

His man, Trumpie, looked back at him with a frown now resting on his face. "I have some business to take care of first, shawty. I promise I'll be back by lunch. I'll bring home some dinosaur nuggies to make it up to you."

"Oh...okay. I guess that's fine. Looks like I'll eat alone again, for the third day in a row," Obama said, not even trying to hide the sadness. "Are you sure I can't help you, as one former president to another?" Obama asked hopefully.

Trumpie replied confidently while getting out of bed, "No, this is between me, my business, and my massive wealth. Besides, you have your new My Little Pony phone game to have fun with while I'm gone."

"Eh, you're right baebie. I'll still miss you though," Obama replied, trying to cover up his sadness this time.

Trump walked away as Obama stepped out of bed unenthusiastically and trotted down seven flights of stairs towards the kitchen. Heading to the fridge, he thought about the dinosaur chicken nuggets that he would microwave and devour. That always made him feel better. With a big smile on his face, he placed his 17th dino nuggie in his Hatsune Miku bowl and walked towards the microwave to heat up this savory breakfast. As it was microwaving, he looked around the kitchen because he's a bored fuck. On his polished marble counter, he noticed a beige cheap office folder. On the cover, there were letters in a unique, big, black, blocky font that read "TOP SECRET."

"This must be Trumpie's," Obama thought to himself, "Surely there's nothing wrong with me looking inside it..."

He opened the folder and saw pictures of cheesy looking gems. The first few pages were full of colorful gems that reminded him of the cheesy marriage games he'd play on girlsgogames.com when he was a wee little lad. After the pictures, he saw a piece of paper with words on it. Rolling his eyes, Obama wasn't sure if he should read it.

"Mmmm...I'll only read it if it was written by my baebie," Obama thought to himself.

He read:

Ok so these emeralds have a cool power and I think I can probably fly and I can make shit go boom boom.

"Oh?" Obama asked himself. "I know what he's talking about! But why does he have research on them written...?"

"Yeah, I'll be there soon. Don't worry, we should be able to pay it off soon. You know how much I love myself, of course I wouldn't put my company in debt for too long. Of course, you can view the emeralds later," Trumpie said.

"What the fuck baebie???" Obama thought to himself.

Confused as fuck, he asks himself, "Is he talking about THOSE things????"

"Of course he doesn't know, I'm amazing at keeping secrets" Trumpie said. Obama, remembering that his lover got past his mental illness, guessed that he must have been on the phone, and not talking to an imaginary Caillou.

"Who is he hiding what from? Surely it's something related to that thing that happened after our presidencies, right?" Obama said to himself quietly. Even though it made the most sense, he still couldn't help his curiosity. He needed to find out exactly what Trumpie was doing, and more importantly, why.

Obama observed as Trumpie dashed out the door, seemingly in a hurry. Obama followed behind him curiously, yet stealthily. Trump bolted, which most resembled a slight trot as a result of his old age, past his shiny, golden Mercedes and towards the silver fence surrounding their slightly presidential mansion. He looked around quickly, but didn't see Obama as a result of his incredible stealth skills, which allowed Obama to stay out of sight, even though all he was doing was crouching on the lawn in broad daylight. Trumpie then pressed his hand firmly against the fence, and moments later, the floor began to shake.