Author's Note: Found this little story in my story folders. I fixed it up a little, and I kinda liked it, so I thought I would share it. I am not aware when I wrote this, but it must have been recent. It's a short read, either way, enjoy!
Beads of sweat dripped down his face. The voices of arguing staff members were steadily growing, irritating his headache. He wiped his face with a napkin before glancing up at the long table.
“Where are we at?” he spoke, gathering the attention of everybody at the table.
“Mr. President, we have narrowed it down to three options. We need you to make a decision.” a tall, highly-decorated general announced, holding several documents in his right arm.
A woman in a tight business suit glared at the man before addressing the President. “Sir, with all due respect, the military is not the best people to make this decision. This is a matter of homeland security, and needs to be addressed with my people.”
The general narrowed his eyes at the woman, clenching his fists. “Ma'am, I recognize your authority on the matter, but this issue won't just affect our nation, but the world, and as such it is up the military and her assets to make sure the decision the President makes doesn't weaken us against possible enemies.”
The President slammed his hand down on the desk. “Shut up!” he shouted, silencing the room. “God bless it, explain the options, somebody, now!”
A nervous aide approached the table and laid out three folders in front of the President. “Op-options one, two, and three,” he stammered, “covering all the data and details.”
The President began to flip through the folders slowly, reading over the details. The words and numbers floated up to him slowly, “extra,” “87%,” “2 liters,” and “9.99” meant little to him. When he was voted as the leader of the free world, he didn't expect the intensity of some of the problems to be this high. He'd be dead from a heart attack at 53, he joked, but today, he felt it.
The President looked up at the voice, and met the eyes of the general. “General?”
“Sir, whatever decision you make, you need to consider what will happen to everybody alive, on this planet, today.”
“I know that.”
He returned his gaze to the folders, a drop of sweat falling onto the papers. He lifted his hand and pinched his temples, groaning softly as he did so. He closed the folders, and looked up at the awaiting crowd. “We will take decision two.” A group of people began voicing dissent but he cut them off with a bang of his fist against the desk. “I don't want to hear any backtalk! Bring me the phone!”
The same aide from earlier walked up to the President and handed him a large, mobile phone. “Do you know the number, Mr. President?”
“By heart, son.”
He began punching a number into the phone, and called, holding it up to his ear. He cleared his throat while he waited for the phone to pick up on the other end.
“Hello, Papa John's, how may I help you today?”
“Yes, I would like a number two.”