An American Fantasy

Joe Biden approached the podium. Adjusting the microphone, he pulled something from his pocket and placed it on the lectern. Secret Service agents began to move toward the stage.

"Stay," Biden said. "We're good, here."

They reluctantly obeyed, each holding position as he began his speech.

"My fellow Americans, today I was informed of a fact that I already knew to be true. I mean–I knew it in my heart. Once I compared the folds of my ear cartilage to old pictures… well, I…"

The crowd sat silently perplexed as the agents appeared to inch toward the stage. One agent touched his index finger to his earpiece, leaning forward as he listened.

Tightly gripping an offstage curtain, Jill Biden mumbled, "Do it, Joe. Just do it."

He continued, "Today I learned that I am a medically-created clone of the true, and recently deceased Joseph R. Biden. America is broken…"

Agents began to move toward the podium. Joe grabbed the gun off the lectern and placed it to his temple.

"…and it's my fault. I'm so sorry, Beau! He truly loved you."

As the agents leapt across the stage, he pulled the trigger, ending his short-lived life.

Jill lowered her head, smiling wickedly.