“Yes Madam. When we, you know… tilted the earth a lot of things changed. Like all bears are now friends. There is no discrimination among pandas and grizzlies and polars. As we saw earlier…”

The stunned President couldn’t take her eyes off the mangled … viruses … virii… things. “But how did this happen… aren’t they dangerous?”

“Super-fast Evolution.”

The Mi-8 flew closer to the action.

“So all these people… what are they doing?”

“Betting.”

Chapter 47

Camp David, Temperature: -39

The President and his Chief of Staff were seated in front of a cozy fire.

“POTUS…”

“Stop saying POTUS in my presence.”

“Sorry Sir. Every country is giving something to the Russians in exchange for good weather… at least stable weather,” Cam Emmanuel the Chief of Staff was explaining the new economics of the global economy.

“So… what do we have?”

“Sir, whatever we have, was made for us by the Chinese… we don’t really have anything.”

“Nothing? Come on Cam, think it over… alcohol… vodka… I bet our rednecks aren’t sitting idle. Round’em up, confiscate their rum. Do I have to spell it out?”

“Sir, BTW the south wants to secede.”

“Again?”

“Yeah, again… also, since the Russians tilted us to the North Pole, the South isn’t in the south anymore. So it’s considered offensive to call someone a southerner.”

“Whaaat? PC culture on steroids. This is anarchy Cam.”

The Chief of Staff shrugged.

“Fine. What about our European allies… perhaps Germany could spare some beer?”

“Umm yeah… the German Chancellor is bffs with Petrova.”

The President shook his head in exasperation, “Well don’t we produce anything anymore in this great nation of ours?”

“Off the top of my head… not much. I mean we got wheat and bread and bacon… eggs too. But the Russians don’t want any of that. Suddenly they have a surplus of everything.”

“Come on, there must be something… think.”

“We did have a lot of weed… but…”

“But?”

“When the shit rotated, our people thought it was the apocalypse… and someone suggested that it would be cool to ride out the apocalypse on a high…”

“Fucking colleges… fucking liberals… absolutely irresponsible.”

“Oh no… it wasn’t the college kids, Sir.”

“Who was it?”

“A predecessor…”

The President remained silent for a while. Cam poured out some whisky from the strategic reserves.

“Hey if Kansas City is the North Pole… then every direction from there is south… right?”

Cam was stuck… was it going to be another rant? “Yes, of course Mr. President.”

“That means we are all in the south… we are ALL southerners… everybody outside of Kansas City is a southerner… catch my drift?”

The End

Afterword

Thanks for making it all the way to the end. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing this… this thing. Insults, comments, brain farts, etc. are all welcome at ianmaxwellbooks@zoho.com

Also, if possible, please do leave a review.

Thanks — Ian.