President Bush hosted president-elect Obama at the White House Monday morning for what aides characterized as a “productive and gracious meeting.” The conversations between the two men were intended to remain secret, but a high-level source that was privy to the meeting has provided a detailed account to Open Salon.

The two men entered the Oval Office together just before eleven o’clock. According to our source, President-elect Obama retrieved a page of typed notes from his breast pocket, sat down on the sofa and settled in for a substantive conversation. 

“Forget them notes, Tarmack,” said the president.“What you really need to see is my secret weapon.” The president then ushered Mr. Obama over to an adjacent restroom, beckoned the president-elect inside and directed his attention to a toilet with “The Decider” emblazoned on the seat.“I do my best thinking on this crapper,” Mr. Bush said. “All my big president-like decisions are made right there.” Mr. Obama politely viewed the toilet and nodded pensively, doing his best to ignore the inordinately large feculence that was floating in the bowl. “Take a spin,” said Mr. Bush. “I’m sorry, Mr. President?” replied Mr. Obama. “Sit down, man. Try it out. I’m tellin’ ya –this is where you’ll be makin’ the big ones.”

The president-elect cautiously approached the toilet and, after some hesitation, reluctantly sat down. “Think about somethin’,” ordered Mr. Bush. President-elect Obama closed his eyes and fell into a thoughtful pose. “I’ll sit here for hours and wonder what I could have done different,” Mr. Bush said, interrupting Mr. Obama’s train of thought. “How I can improve on stuff. Constantly assesilizing my mistakes and figurin’ out how to not make ‘em again in the futures.” “Iraq is a very complex situation,” Mr. Obama offered. “Iraq? I’m talking about Donkey Kong, man!” Mr. Bush hauled the president-elect off the toilet, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted,“flush”, which prompted Chief of Staff Joshua Bolton to enter the small restroom, squeeze past the two men and flush the toilet.

Mr. Bush brought the president-elect out into the hallway and over to a Donkey Kong arcade game that was positioned between alabaster busts of Abraham Lincoln and James Madison. “This is where I get away from it all. Lemme tell you, Orgama. You gotta have a place where you can come and forget about all your president problems.” Mr. Obama nodded thoughtfully. “That’s understandable, Mr. President. Economic instability, wars in two theaters…these are difficult issues. I’m inclined--” “Yeah, but I’m talking about the importanomical problems, Farack,” Mr. Bush interrupted. “Like not getting ESPN on the Lincoln bedroom TV. Or the kitchen running out of them little fudge bar things. You’ll see.” The president placed both hands on the machine, pursed his lips and lost himself in a steely resolve.  “I’ve only got seventy days left to beat Condi’s record."  

The two men returned to the Oval Office, where President Bush settled himself behind his desk. “Check this shit out, Nomama,”he said, gesturing enthusiastically to a pony keg of beer hidden underneath the desk used by Presidents Adams and Lincoln. The president shouted “keg stand!” and two secret service agents rushed into the office, upended Mr. Bush and affixed the tap to his mouth, positioning the president so he could suck off the ponykeg. Mr. Obama watched politely as the president hung upside down drinking for several minutes, his face bright red and sweaty. A secretary poked her head into the office and announced that Henry Paulson had arrived for their meeting. Mr. Bush, still drinking and still upside down, simply turned his hand upright and raised a middle finger. When the president had completed his keg stand, he picked up the keg and handed it to Mr. Obama. “Feel that bitch,” he said. “Empty.”  

The two men left the Oval Office, walked straight past Secretary Paulson and then rode the elevator up to the residence. The president led Mr. Obama into his bedroom and over to the nightstand. “You gotta see this, Darock,” he said, before flipping a small switch, which prompted a studded leather swing to descend from the ceiling. “Clinton ordered this thing installed,” he said. “It’s a sex swing.” Mr. Obama cleared his throat, turned away from the swing and told the president he was hoping to discuss more substantive issues. “Hold on, hold on,” the president said, as he placed a small cookie on the swing, ran with a grin back to the switch and shouted for his dog Barney. The First Family’s Scottish Terrier bounded into the bedroom and leapt towards the cookie but, at the last minute, the president moved the sex swing out of reach.  Both men looked on as the dog sailed through the air and landed in a laundry hamper. “99 out of 100 times he lands in that hamper,” boasted President Bush. “Used to be a lot less when we first moved in.”

An aide appeared in the doorway and informed them it was time to part ways. Mr. Obama walked towards the door, then turned around to ask President Bush for his most important piece of advice. But he found the president draped over the sex swing, lost in a deep snore, his body rocking gently back and forth like a corpse while the First Dog nipped at his beer soaked pants.