Tobytone
Verified User
I wrote this last night to put a light humorous take on a very serious charge that demonstrates the habit Biden has of lying and exposes another example of hiding behind Presidential immunity. Hope you enjoy this light hearted attempt to make the awful truth easier to swallow.
The Case Of The Dumb Waiter Shame
In the grand and often absurd theater of the White House, an olfactory enigma unfolded, known to the staff as the "Case of Dumb Waiter Shame."
It all kicked off when Susie Pickle, a kitchen staffer with a nose for both trouble and gourmet cuisine, started picking up a bizarre scent every morning right after President Biden's breakfast bell chimed. "It smells like a circus elephant wandered through here," she'd lament, leading her to report this puzzling phenomenon to the White House investigators.
The plot thickened with the mysterious exodus of Biden's personal maids. Three had left so abruptly they might as well have been beamed up by aliens, leaving behind only their resignation vibes. The fourth was dismissed under circumstances so murky, rumors swirled she'd been caught trying to burn the evidence - or rather, the pajamas. The fifth maid, fresh on the job for just four days, decided to speak out, hoping to avoid the fate of her predecessors. She spoke of nightly battles with an invisible foe, a stench so potent it could make a skunk blush.
The trail of clues, now including a series of tiny, blue pajama buttons found in the dumb waiter, led investigators straight to the President. But when confronted, Biden, with a twinkle in his eye, denied it all with the charm of a seasoned conman man. "I'm innocent! I've only ever soiled my reputation, not my pajamas," he'd say, brushing off the accusations under the shield of presidential immunity.
The investigators, stumped and somewhat amused, could do little but document this bizarre chapter of White House history. The kitchen staff, now equipped with gas masks and industrial-strength air fresheners, undertook daily expeditions to clean the dumb waiter, which they affectionately dubbed "The Pajama Portal." Each cleaning session was like an archaeological dig, uncovering more than just the president's laundry habits; they found small presidential seals, half-eaten jelly donuts, and once, inexplicably, a tiny rubber duck.
The story became the stuff of legend, told with laughter and a pinch of disbelief. Every morning, as the scent wafted through the corridors, it served as a reminder of the absurdity of power, the resilience of the staff, and the one mystery that even the most thorough investigation couldn't solve - how one man's nightwear could turn into the White House's most notorious ghost story.
The Case Of The Dumb Waiter Shame
In the grand and often absurd theater of the White House, an olfactory enigma unfolded, known to the staff as the "Case of Dumb Waiter Shame."
It all kicked off when Susie Pickle, a kitchen staffer with a nose for both trouble and gourmet cuisine, started picking up a bizarre scent every morning right after President Biden's breakfast bell chimed. "It smells like a circus elephant wandered through here," she'd lament, leading her to report this puzzling phenomenon to the White House investigators.
The plot thickened with the mysterious exodus of Biden's personal maids. Three had left so abruptly they might as well have been beamed up by aliens, leaving behind only their resignation vibes. The fourth was dismissed under circumstances so murky, rumors swirled she'd been caught trying to burn the evidence - or rather, the pajamas. The fifth maid, fresh on the job for just four days, decided to speak out, hoping to avoid the fate of her predecessors. She spoke of nightly battles with an invisible foe, a stench so potent it could make a skunk blush.
The trail of clues, now including a series of tiny, blue pajama buttons found in the dumb waiter, led investigators straight to the President. But when confronted, Biden, with a twinkle in his eye, denied it all with the charm of a seasoned conman man. "I'm innocent! I've only ever soiled my reputation, not my pajamas," he'd say, brushing off the accusations under the shield of presidential immunity.
The investigators, stumped and somewhat amused, could do little but document this bizarre chapter of White House history. The kitchen staff, now equipped with gas masks and industrial-strength air fresheners, undertook daily expeditions to clean the dumb waiter, which they affectionately dubbed "The Pajama Portal." Each cleaning session was like an archaeological dig, uncovering more than just the president's laundry habits; they found small presidential seals, half-eaten jelly donuts, and once, inexplicably, a tiny rubber duck.
The story became the stuff of legend, told with laughter and a pinch of disbelief. Every morning, as the scent wafted through the corridors, it served as a reminder of the absurdity of power, the resilience of the staff, and the one mystery that even the most thorough investigation couldn't solve - how one man's nightwear could turn into the White House's most notorious ghost story.
