Writing for Fun
August 2019
The Loser - Jan Norman
The rising of the sun found me, the fortieth and possibly the oldest President of the United States of America, creeping out my private apartment in the Whitehouse. It was my first day of Office and I was carrying a large cardboard box. Not wishing to disturb any of the live-in staff I tip-toed down the corridor towards the stairs and the President’s famous Office.
You know how it is, the more you try to be quiet the more noise you make. Tripping over my own feet on a non-existent bump in the deep piled carpet the contents of my box rattled. Second later the door to the immediate right of me suddenly opened and my personal bodyguard burst out toting a gun. Stunned and speechless with fright I stopped dead in my tracks, nearly dropping my box.
Frightened stupid and not a little embarrassed I coughed and quipped, ‘This is just like a scene from my old movie ‘The Killers’, except this time I hope I don’t get shot, eh?’
Clearly not recognising the old film reference but laughing a lot more than the quip warranted he quickly holstered his weapon. Rushing forward he grabbed the box out of my hands.
‘Here, Mr President, you shouldn't be wandering around on your own, let alone carrying stuff. Let me. Where are you heading for?
‘Er the Oval Office, er, Fred isn’t it? Thought it’d be good to try the desk for size before everyone arrives for work.’ This mild witticism did not even raise a smile.
Nodding his assent, Jake’s only comment was, ‘Not Fred, Sir, Jake. Fred’s your chauffeur. Follow me Sir,’ and turning around proceeded to go back the way I had come and rounding the corner started to walk down a sweeping staircase.
Chagrin made me hold my tongue this time. Good job I had disturbed him otherwise I would never have found my way.
Plonking the box down on the coffee table Jake asked if there was anything else I required and, acknowledging my feeble shake of the head and mumbled thanks, quietly left the room.
Not the best start of my first day in the Whitehouse but I mentally shrugged my shoulders. If this was to be the worst blunder in my term of Office then I would be one lucky President.
Sitting down on the settee I began unpacking the box. First off were family photographs of my dear wife Nancy and the children. It was easy to decide their place in the room: my desk. Hopefully their presence would give me courage and strength to endure the dark days that would inevitably occur during my Presidency.
Next out of the box came football trophies of my youth and many pieces of memorabilia from my days as an actor; a few treasured props from my films and signed photos of my leading ladies and a few original film scripts. All these mementos I relegated to the side table.
These were the memories and achievements of a seventy year old life that I wished to show the world. One last photo remained in the box. I pulled it out and found myself looking at the class of ‘32. The year class of my graduation from Eureka College. I studied the faces of my classmates and idly wondered what had become of them. Then the face of my year master caught my eye. Mr Thornberry. I gave a wry smile. His parting words to me as I left Eureka College were, ‘You’re a likeable, though vacuous, fellow but you will be one of life’s losers. All brawn and no brain and no ambition other than playing football and acting. If I do see your name in the newspapers it will not be for anything noteworthy, of that I am sure.’
I wonder what he thinks of me now? Let’s see. If he were in his thirties back in 1932 he must now be in his eighties. I do hope he is alive and hale and hearty. I think my first act as President will be to get one of my aides track him down and invite him for a tour of the Whitehouse and perhaps present him with a signed photograph of me, the 40th President of the United States of America, 1981.