Unnamed sources within the Secret Service indicate that, while the cameras rolled, everything was peaceful and civil between all the parties, with Obama seemingly enjoying his newfound role as mediator. When the reporters left, however, the three men continued to sit at the picnic table, drinking beer and talking amicably.
Around 11:00 PM, the President's youngest daughter, Sasha, stuck her head out the door of the White House and announced to her father, "Momma says it's time for you to tell your friends goodnight and come to bed."
The President sat in stunned silence, while Gates and Crowley howled with laughter. Pres. Obama, looking to recover, asked his daughter to "be a good girl and go get three more beers for daddy and his friends."
Minutes later, the President's oldest daughter, Malia, appeared at the door and said sternly, "Momma says it's time to come inside NOW! You've had enough beer for one night."
Prof. Gates chortled, "Barack, you ain't got a hair on your black ass if you let that woman run you like that." To which, Sgt. Crowley added, "Skip (referring to Prof. Gate's nickname), I think our boy here is whipped. Let's you and me see if we can find a titty bar in this town. Run along now, Barack....."
The President rose unsteadily to his feet and ambled toward the opened door. "MICHELLE!" he bellowed, "I'll be in when I'm damn good 'n ready and, you know what, I ain't ready! Make us some baloney sandwiches and send the girls out with three more beers. 'N make it snappy, woman!"
No sooner had he turned around to look for approval from his two new friends when they heard the deadbolt turn on the door and the outside light clicked off, leaving the three men in the dark.
Outraged, President Obama motioned to his Secret Service detail who had been stationed nearby. "Know what, kick that door down. I want you to kick the door damn down. No, wait, kick the down damn door down." He started to giggle and Prof. Gates fell off the picnic table bench, much to the delight of Sgt. Crowley, who laughed so hard that beer flew out his nose. "No, that ain't it---kick the....kick the damn door down. Yeah, that's it, the damn door down! Now."
The Secret Service agent replied coolly, "No can do, sir."
The President poked a finger in the agent's chest and slurred, "You know who I am? I'm the Precedent of these United Steaks in America. All 57 of 'em. 'N when I say you gotta do something, then ain't you gotta do it?"
To which the agent reiterated his previous response, "No can do, sir. You see sir, if I do something to rile up Renaissance (referring to Mrs. Obama's Secret Service code name), then she tells my wife. It sets a bad precedent, sir. Know that I would take a bullet for you in a heartbeat, sir, but I will not sleep on the couch, cook my own meals or wash my own socks for you, sir, president or no."
President Obama slumped against the wall, turned to his friends and muttered, "Well, ain't that some shit, now?"
"Forget it, B-Dogg. Everything's cool. We better be goin' anyhow," said Prof. Gates. "C'mon, Jimmy, I'll drop you off, man. B-Dogg, yo, we had a blast, dude......"
"Hold it, dudes," said the President. "The B-Man ain't done yet. Let's see what my little furry friend, Bo, has hiding in his crib for his poppa."
Reaching into the Obama family pet's doghouse, the President pulled out three 40 0z. bottles of Colt .45 Malt Liquor in a brown paper bag. "Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' 'bout! Ain't nobody tellin' Barack he can't have no more beer with his boys. We just gettin' started here....."
As Billie Dee Williams says about Colt .45 Malt Liquor, "It works every time......"
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