[ WP ] The President , suffering from a bad case of diarrhea , is informed that the enemy has just launched a nuke .

It's always been a pain in the ass ( no pun intended ) that I just ca n't ever share with people. As president of the most powerful nation in the world, a simple problem like the distance of the nearest bathroom from the Oval Office just is n't something you can complain about. Out there, millions of citizens are dealing with issues that would make a simple case of irritable bowel syndrome look like a walk in the park. And yet, here I am. 
 
 It must've been the goddamn pizza. I spotted those grease pools right away. Fucking Borges had to go with Giordano's Pizzeria. That place was always good for a quick trip to shit water in the nearest toilet with their New York Style of pie. And now here I am again with that pulsating ache in my stomach telling me that I had about two minutes before my skivvies looked like that river from Slumdog Millionaire. Fucking restroom was only 30 seconds away and yet it's never that quick when you've got everybody and their mom wanting to stop you to ask you what should be done about this or that issue in the United States of America. 
 
 Standing up is always a tricky step and yet I navigated that pretty well. Immediately, I knew that things were n't going to be easy. Grayson Howard was right outside the door when I walked out. This asshole always has a new economic policy that he wants me to look at. 
 
 `` Mr. President'', he started. 
 
 `` I'll be with you in a minute, Howard'', I replied. 
 
 I started down the hall to the door to the bathroom just ten feet away. The area around my asshole started to feel like the Everglades and I'm pretty sure my face looked the same way. My urgency seemed to be shared by Secretary of Defense, Dexter Fowler who came running around the corner down the hall from me. Bastard was probably going to pull a side by side in the bathroom with me having eaten that same shitty pizza. Fucking Giordano's. Fucking Borges always had to go with fucking Giordano's. 
 
 Fowler surprised me by passing the door to the restroom and suddenly I realized there was something really wrong with the situation. The look of concern on his face told me this much. 
 
 `` So what should we do?'' he asked. My asshole sputtered a bit as I stopped. I'll need to check to see if that was a fart later. 
 
 `` What should we do about what?'' I replied. 
 
 `` Wait, you have n't heard? Looking at your face, I thought...'' 
 
 `` What the hell are you talking about?'' My stomach let loose with another push. My butt cheeks clenched. It barely held. 
 
 `` I'm sorry sir, I just saw your face. The sweat. The pace you were walking at.'' A tiny trickle made it's way through the fleshy fortress of my buttcheeks. 
 
 `` Godammit Fowler! What the fuck are you talking about?'' My stomach was not going to be denied. 
 
 `` The enemy, sir! They launched a nuke just four minutes ago!'' 
 
 It's amazing how something like shitting your pants can seem like the end of the world when it happens. You ca n't think past that one singular moment. And yet, here I was, standing in the hallway of the White House shitting my pants and I was at complete peace with it. Truth is, judging by the smell, I'm pretty sure Fowler had beaten me to it. 
 
 edit: formatting
