Murdering One Direction

Kidnapped

Nighttime is always the best time to break the law and enter someone's house, especially when you're breaking into the White House on Valentine's Day. Turns out that all the security guards get a free night off to be with their loved ones while Obama sits at home all alone. Loner. I guess I know that feeling: watching apathetically as others are free to freely shower each other with affection while you're forced to maintain a facade of cold and bitterness to keep others from getting too close to you for their own protection... Anyway, uh, back to breaking into the White House.

"Yo," Louis whispered, "you got the stuff?"

"What, no dude, don't say it like that. This isn't a drug deal." I answered back. Don't do drugs, kids.

"What? Dude, no. Not drugs, the stuff we're gonna use to kidnap him."

"Oh, right. Hey, an open window." We dashed from the bush where we were hiding and leapt through the convenient opening into the slumbering President's room.

"Hey look it's Obama." Louis pointed to a sleeping man in bed. At least I think he did; it was too dark to tell. Also, we literally just entered the White House through an open window. What the crap?

"I can't see him." I tried my best to locate the President. "The darkness of his skin blends in with the darkness of the room.

"Wow, that's so racist."

"What? No, I never said it was a bad thing. All I was saying was-"

He cut me off before I could finish and spat at me disappointedly, "You've said enough."

"Anyway," I proclaimed, ignoring Louis' rambles, "How were you able to see him?"

"I've got night vision goggles."

"Where the heck did you get those?" I whispered, irritated.

"Chuck Norris." Fair enough. I didn't ask anymore questions. That statement spoke for itself. Suddenly a blinding light illuminated the room from the corner.

"What just happened?" I asked Louis.

"I opened his mouth. His teeth are so blindingly white compared to his skin that it literally produces a radiating white light." Oh, okay, and I'm the racist one. "Hurry, before he realizes how loud we are and wakes up."

 I quickly fished for the handkerchief (a different one than the one I used on Liam. Trust me, it would be straight up disrespectful to kidnap the President using the same handkerchief I used on Liam. I'm not about to disrespect the President like that) and slammed it over Obama's mouth, which knocked him out instantly. Well I guess he was already knocked out because he was sleeping, but you get the idea.

We handcuffed him and dragged his limp, presidential body out of the window and into the trunk of our car. Of course, before we shoved him in we were sure to stick him in a body bag. Don't worry about how we were able to obtain the body bag - the less you know the better. 

As luck would have it, right when we were ready to close the trunk, a police officer appeared out of nowhere and stopped us. Well, I guess that's actually a lie. We parked right next to him because Louis said it was such an obvious getaway spot that they'd never suspect anything. Apparently, "if you're brave enough to park next to a police officer, they'll assume that you have nothing to hide." In hindsight, taking Louis' advice for anything is a terrible idea and I will never make that mistake again.

"What are you two gentlemen doing out here this late at night?" The officer spat out a piece of Wrigley's long lasting 2015 edition spearmint gum (plz sponsor me, Wrigley) and approached us with caution.

"Oh, officer," I chuckled nervously, "we were just on our way to the laundry convention downtown and this is our bag of laundry."

"I hate to break it to you boys, but there is no laundry convention going on downtown." He gingerly reached his hand for something on his belt. Well, I guess the gig was up. This was how we'd go out: shot by a cop because we happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I guess this was the most American way I could die.

Surprisingly, he pulled out a piece of paper and held it up for us. Why was that clipped to his belt of all places? "Yeah, I made the same mistake as you guys. I went over to check it out today, and apparently it was moved to next week because there was concern with security. It's all because of the mysterious murders of the One Direction members. The band Laundromat that was set to perform dropped out, so the best they could do was get the local band The Stains booked for next week, so they changed the convention date. Here's the schedule."

He handed us the piece of paper. It was a surprisingly detailed list with an entire agenda filled with activities such as laundry washing, watching laundry dry, discussing tips for removing stubborn stains, and as he said, a concert headlined by the local band The Stains.

The officer wished us luck and took off down the road. We slammed the trunk and raced down a surprisingly empty street to stop by a local burger joint to get some food in our system. Plus, it gave us an opportunities to calm down our nerves.

After about 45 minutes of listening to Louis go on and on about the corruptness of American politics (which I have to say was thoroughly researched, and honestly quite convincing), we traversed our way through the parking lot where we heard muffled rustling coming from the trunk. We popped open the trunk to reveal Obama already free from his handcuffs and body bag. Man, he was good.

He stood up out of his cramped prison and the first thing out of his mouth was, "Do you have fellas any more of those cheeseburgers?" Louis slammed a Big Mac in his face.

"Thanks man, chloroform always makes me hungry," the man casually ate his cheeseburger. "Hey wait, this isn't the White House." He took in his surroundings and in a moment of realization said, "Oh right, the conniving plan to free you from suspicion of murder. How's that going?" He was so chill Matthew Mcconaughey would've gotten goosebumps.

"Pretty well, actually," I said, "now it's time to fake your death."