The presidents

After the worlds biggest ever meeting of the world’s presidents at the white house, five presidents: Spain, England, Germany, Canada and America are on the run.

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            All is calm in the white house. The presidents of the entire world are together at last. Canada, Germany, England, Spain and America all sit side by side.

            The Canadian president is a strong man.

            The German a smart man.

            The English is an eccentric young lady.

            The Spanish a practical young woman.

            And the American a hardy man.

            With them sits the Italian president, a hairy young fellow.

            The bell does for evening tea but no one comes forth with the platters and pies.

            Everything happens at once then.

            The windows are smashed, the guards shot down. Their Italian friend is shot in the head. England receives a shot to her arm.

            “Run!” is ripped from Canada’s mouth as he grabs two of his friends and pulls them with him.

            He leads them outside into his shiny new car and he drives fast away from the lunatic mob.

            They drive for a solid thirty minutes until they believe themselves free. But when they skid around the corner the mob has the road blocked.

            Quick thinking Canada swerves off the road. But the mob moves them onto a straight dessert road.

            Shots ring out as the mobs getting angry.

            The car swerves around a corner and suddenly stalls.

            As much as the president turns the keys in the ignition, nothing happens.

            The American president jumps out with a flourish and runs from the car without a backward glance.

            He doesn’t get barely ten feet from the car, before a sniper from the mob gets him in his head.

            This propels Canada to try the car just once more, and luck would have it that it starts. He puts his foot onto the floor and drives away from the mob.

            “What do we do?” England exclaims, still grasping her arm.

            “We have to get away!” Canada says from the front.

            “But –“ The German president starts, but a well-aimed bullet gets him in the back of his head.   

            “Drive fast! Drive faster!” the Spaniard chirps out from the back.

            The Canadian swerves the car side to side, dodging the bullets and losing the mob.

            A few more bullets catch the bumper and the doors but none hit the presidents, which is all that really matters.

            The gas meter was running low so the president drove faster and swerved into a garage.

            They burst through the door, the Spanish, English and Canadian presidents, all looking frantic and the British still bleeding.

            “Call a doctor and call the police. We are the presidents and we need your help!”