Lord Barrackus Obamus XIII swept majestically into the chamber and let his gaze fall terribly upon the frail, weeping form of Lord Joseph Biden, Arch Duke of Delaware.
“Master,” cried Lord Biden, “What have I done to displease you!”
Looming cadaverously over the room, the soothing yet icy voice of Obamus seemed to come from everywhere at once.
“Joseph, how many times has it been?”
“How many times has it been?” Obamus proclaimed, this time with more emphasis.
Daring to look up, but careful not to meet His eyes, Joesph said, “Totally not following you.”
Silence engulfed the room, and darkness descended over all, complete but for his eyes....terrible eyes which had cowed a once proud nation into submission for four "election" cycles, and which now glowed green with the fire of a thousand nightmares. Obamus was displeased.
“Ahh, so you still have something like a spine under all that wrinkled white skin of yours, is that right? Perhaps it was that spine that caused you to flout my most recent Commandment...?”
Biden's brow began to furrow in affected concentration so as to show Obamus that he was really thinking hard about it. Then, surprisingly, it hit him -- and he blanched. “L-l-l-l-ord....m-my lord...it -- it was an accident!”
“I put...uh...that is...well I...m'Lady Obamus made cookies for the girls!”
“And one of them, I can never tell which one...both equally clean...well...she offered me one!”
“Uh huh, that would be Sascha, you racist jackass...but continue...”
“I...you know, I am getting a little old, mouth gets dry -- I got some milk.”
“Well, I put back the milk -- I put the top on it the way I was told to by m'Lady Obamus. I did right!”
“Don't stall. If you had left the top off again you'd be dead already, wouldn't you? What happened next?”
Shaking, voice trembling, Biden blurted, “I put the glass in the sink! That's where it is supposed to go! I put it there, I shouldn't get in trouble for putting it where it goes!”
For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was the heavy breething of Lord Biden.
“Joseph...do you know what kind of milk that was?”
“Do you know what kind of milk that was?'
“Uh....still not following you.”
The floor heaved mightily, and a flash of actinic blue light blazed from the eyes of Lord Barrackus Obamus. “DO. YOU. KNOW. WHAT. KIND-OF-MILK-THAT WAS??!?”
“No -- I'm sorry, I do not know!”
“IT WAS WHOLE MILK!”
“Oh no, no I'm so sorry!” screamed Lord Biden hysterically, “I thought it was skim!”
The glowing eyes of Obamus widened innocently. “Oh you thought it was skim? Well, let us all just rest our little heads then, because Joseph the dum-dum Biden is here to think away all our pwobwems so nobody has any pwobwems anymore! I guess we'll just have to live with crusty white milk rings at the bottom of our glasses when we want juice, or water -- or milk of our own, if you didn't drink it all again.”
Biden was already shaking his head. “I didn't drink it all -- I swear!”
“Well you better not have,” replied Obamus, dangerously. “m'Lady Obamus likes to have milk in the morning with her oatmeal. If you think I'm tough, you really don't wanna tangle with her.”
“Those arms...” whispered Biden in horror.
Feeling a little brave, Biden asked, “So what is to become of me, master?”
Obamus was approaching something like a good mood. Yelling at people always helped. He didn't think Biden would leave milk in the bottom of the glass again, at least not anytime soon -- he'd do something else though, something equally dumb, Obamus was sure of it. But that was Joseph for you.
“Joseph, let me be clear: I'm feeling like burgers. Your punishment is to go to Five Guys and bring us all back some burgers.”
“Uh....your Magnificence...there is one problem.”
“Five Guys went out of business 2 years ago -- killed by the recession.”
“You mean the recession I inherited.”
Nodding carefully, Biden replied, “Oh ya, that's right.”