Elected on a wave of hope, re-elected on a wave of rampant stupidity, the President is the most-important, most-protected man on the planet. He is the Messiah, come to lower sea levels and save the planet, to make nice with terrorists, to blame everyone and everything but himself when things go wrong. He is lawless. His unconstitutional executive orders go unchallenged by a wussified, do-nothing pile of lying RINO Republicans. At the apex of power and privilege, he is unique among Earth's billions. He is the "Prez." He is the Chosen One. He is that one remarkable, transcendent, gold-plated, silver-tongued man. He and the First Lady live within a womb of Secret Service protection. Nothing can harm them, nothing can get through the cordon of agents that surround them. Until . . . Someone does. He's old. He's not even five feet tall. Who is this little old man? How is he able to slip through all the White House defenses, its sensors, closed-circuit TV systems, and patrolling agents? What does he want? Why can no one catch him, control him, stop him? Why have three-quarters of the Secret Service agents assigned to the White House vanished? Where did they go? Suddenly something is wrong in the White House. Something is very, VERY wrong.
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