Washington, D.C. — King Obama stands up from a throne of human bones and walks onto the balcony overlooking Pennsylvania Avenue.
‘Today is the day,’ he thinks. ‘Today it is finally going to happen.’
Having entered his third stage of molting, Obama sheds a hard carapace, revealing a slick, soft hide. It is as dark and supple as fresh eggplant. He takes a slime bath, half-listening to automated daily reports from the Drone Front.
“Minions come,” Secret Service reports. “They bring mad skills, and street smarts, to boot!”
Challenge them, the President orders. “Best them in rhyme, lest they receive a smackdown, as I lay the beat down in straight time.”
Stop. Does this scenario sound familiar?
Presidents have long faced threat of impromptu rap battles with constituents in hotly contested Mean Streets, going as far back as William Taft, whose infamous red-pill flow eradicated flappers before the end of his presidency in 1930.
Evelyn Bruckheimer, 109 years old, recalls the William H. ‘Daft’ Taft Brooklyn smackdown of 1928.
“It was balls to the wall rhymes, son,” Bruckheimer said. “It was the literally the worst thing to happen to New York that decade; that is, until the Stock Market Crash of ’29.”
New sources indicate Taft’s explosive rhymes triggered a speculation frenzy, crashing markets within the year.
“As bad as it was, people didn’t self-immolate because the stock market [emphasis added] ruined their lives,” Bruckheimer confessed. “You want to know the truth? Taft’s mix-tape was straight fire, G. Believe me.”
Wise up on the streets, Mr. President, or it could happen to you. Can Obama rhyme like Taft? I am not ready to find out.
This has been a public service announcement by Lebal Drocer. Busting out the baby rhymes since them elfwax days. And confused.