— Fiction —

The Private Life of Obama’s Speechwriter

The secret life of Jon Favreau, the President’s wordsmith wunderkind.

9:05 a.m. — Breakfast at the White House.

WAITER: More coffee?

JON: Thank you, thank you very much. I dine here today, humbled by the task before us, grateful for the breakfast you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by the White House kitchen staff. God bless you. And may God bless the United States of America.

The waiter backs away slowly.

11:30 a.m. — Getting a checkup.

A doctor examines Jon.

DOCTOR: ’Morning, Jon. How are you today?

JON: Today we mark the end of one historic journey with the beginning of another—a journey that will bring a new and better day to America. This is the moment when the rise of the oceans began to slow and our planet began to heal. Today we will remake this great nation so that it may always reflect our very best selves and our highest ideals.

DOCTOR: You have a venereal disease.

He prescribes some cream.

2:37 p.m. — Selling his used George Foreman Grill through Craigslist.

Jon meets up with an interested buyer.

JON: Two hundred and twenty one years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and launched America’s improbable experiment in democracy. Equally improbable was a low-fat double-sided grill that can cook a ¼ lb. ham steak in record time. The George Foreman G5 Next Grillation System can grill and griddle during the rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. It will endure what storms may come with hope, with virtue, with two specially designed spatulas and five dishwasher-safe grill plates. In the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things and to embrace a Teflon-coated heating surface that drains fat and grease. There is no problem it cannot solve, there is no destiny it cannot fulfill, there is no pot roast it cannot cook.

BUYER: Wow, that sounds amazing!

Hours later …

BUYER: (Shrugs.) It’s not that amazing.

JON: No refunds.

7:38 p.m. — Having an affair

Jon’s girlfriend walks into his apartment.

GIRLFRIEND: Sorry, I forgot my BlackBerry and— (She does a double-take.) Jesus Christ! Another woman? Jon, how could you!

JON: Wait, I—

GIRLFRIEND: You son of a bitch! How could you!

JON: (Zips up his pants.) Because you know in your heart that at this moment—a moment that will define a generation—we cannot afford to keep doing what we’ve been doing. We owe our children a better future. We owe our country a better future. So amidst gathering clouds and raging storms, we must move beyond the false divisions of fidelity. This is our moment. This is our time. Our time to turn the page on the monogamous policies of the past. Together, let us begin the next great chapter in our relationship with three words that will ring from coast to coast, from sea to shining sea: Ménage à trois. It was sung by polymorphs as they struck out from distant shores, polygamists who pushed westward against an unforgiving wilderness, and a President who chose the moon as our new frontier. Ménage à trois. Because if you are willing to work for it, join in it, and believe in it, then out of this long darkness, a brighter day will come.

GIRLFRIEND: Well, when you put it that way, I guess that’s O.K.

PEGGY NOONAN: (Scratching herself.) What the hell is this?