Welcome Home

“Welcome home, Sir” said the staff. “The Lincoln Bedroom is unavailable, but you can sleep here.”
Bill held up the sweat-soaked pillow, sniffed it, and tossed it back on the stained lumpy mattress.
Oh, the indignity.
First, he had to sleep on the floor when he was off touring the tsunami-stricken areas of the Indian Ocean.
But now, after all those years of sleeping in the master bedroom of the White House, he was consigned to this disgusting closet.
The Millard Fillmore “Suite.”
Eight years of lousy tips, back to haunt him.
Time to find an intern and a cigar.