Act I, Parody: A Day in the Life of the Bidens.

Photo by Bruce Clark on

The scene is 8 a.m. in the White House master bedroom. Jill is sitting up in bed staring down at her husband’s back who is fast asleep next to her.


Come on, Joey. You need to get up and start the day. There’re a lot more bills on your desk to sign.

She shakes him on the shoulder to see if he’s alive.


What the hell?! What’s wrong? Why’d you push me? Where am I?

He slowly rises to a sitting position in bed while rubbing his foggy head and eyes.


You’re in the White House, of course.

She rolls her eyes.


Oh yeah. Could you help me up?

He holds up his arms for her to come around and pull him off the bed. He shuffles into the bathroom and turns on the shower. He calls out for some coffee to be brought up. Jill throws on her robe and runs to his demands.


What shall we have the servants bring you for breakfast, dear?


The usual. A soft boiled egg on toast, orange juice, and fruit on the side.

Jill calls on the intercom for their food to be brought to the room. After several minutes Joe emerges from the bathroom stark naked. Jill asks him to cover himself.

Why should I? You’ve seen me before.

He begrudgingly puts on his robe and secures the tie.

Damn GOP keeps giving Trump credit for the vaccine. I have to change the minds of the American people today. That’s my goal today, honey.


How will you do that, dear?


I’ll just tell them it came out after I was inaugurated and the media will repeat it all day long until the stupids believe it. Just like they believed we didn’t cheat to win. Just like they believed we didn’t plan the breach of the capitol. That went down so perfect. Too bad a couple of cops had to die; but in the fog of war, that happens. Just like they believe we need that fence and guards to keep out the armed white supremacists. They are sooooo stupid.


She gives a devious chuckle under her breath.

Nice, dear. Now let’s pick you out a nice outfit for today. Do you want your stonewashed jeans to look like a casual Kennedy or do you want your tight suit to look like a professional millennial lawyer?


Give me my tight suit and those pointy brown shoes. I like showing off my trim physique. Trump can’t top that. Even my ties are better. I’m sure glad I got Tweeter to cancel his account and put an end to Parler. Without that, we’d be hearing complaints from him daily. Now we have to do something about Hannity, Tucker, and that bitch Laura.

He gets his suit on and Jill helps him with his socks, shoes, and tie.


I agree. I hate that bitch. Her, Barfiroma, and Jeanine give women’s lib a bad name. Feminists can’t be conservative! We finally got Martha, Dana, and Sandra to step in line. I’ll handle them dear. I’ll make a call to FOX. Those Murdock wives love me since I’m a doctor.


Great honey. I owe you. Today I’m gonna sign some more bills to get more and more immigrants into our country to secure their votes in four years. The more I promise them, the more they’ll come. Sort of like in that movie, ahhh…ummm…you know the one…Fields of Corn or something. If we promise them, they will come.


Field of Dreams. But dear, what about Kamala? Don’t you think it will be her turn by then?


Kamal? No. If I can make it through the first four years without a scandal and with the suckup media in my pocket, I’ll definitely run again. What’s stopping me now?

He chuckles as he gazes in the full length mirror at himself, practicing a few different smiles as he tilts his head from side to side.


Umm…possibly your health…dear?


Health. Smealth. I’m sharp as a tack. Plus, I’ve got a pen, a teleprompter, and Obama in my ear. That’s all I need.

Joe shuffles over to the door to let the servants inside. He doesn’t greet them at all. His breakfast is ready. He sits down at the bedroom dinette and slices up his egg as the yolk oozes out. He takes a bite and yolk dribbles down onto his chin and some onto his tie.

Damn it, Jill! These eggs are too runny! I ruined my tie. How will this look on camera?! Come on, man!


Now, now, Joey. Let me get a wet towel and clean you up for your first meeting today. And don’t call me man! Here’s your morning pills.

She wipes his chin and scrubs at his tie. He downs his pills with his orange juice and coffee and shuffles slowly down the hall to the staircase. Jill slumps down into one of the bedside chairs and let’s out a huge sigh then starts thinking to herself.

What have we gotten ourselves into? This is more than I signed up for. We may need a full time nursemaid in here. I’m used to him floundering around the house all morning in his robe. We might have bit off more than we can chew. I didn’t go to six years of college to be cleaning yolk off of a chin! Come on, man!

A Day in the Life of the Bidens.


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