Upon his return to the Oval Office from the kitchen galley and a heartwarming breakfast, President Barack Hussein Obama realized that something was amiss. Second in command Joseph Robinette Biden lay face down on the floor, sedated and de-clothed, with donkey painted on his head, which seemed to have been forcibly shaved, and with aninscription of the Declaration of Independence emblazoned on his back. The tattoos hadn’t yet dried, and Mr. Joseph R. Biden’s white shoulder blades had taken on an inflamed, sunset hue. President Obama’s first impulse was to turn Mr. Biden over on his back to see if an invisible treasure map lay on his stomach like Nicholas Cage did with the actual Declaration of Independence in “National Treasure”… But he thought against it because he knew that the cameras would capture him…. And messing with a crime scene of this stature could have the potential to surpass his good friend William Clinton’s 90’s blunder in infamy.

Unsure of how to proceed, Mr. Obama then decided to take his bi-daily jog so he could clear his head and ponder how to handle the misfortune of his compatriot. On the run, he realized that Governor Willard Mitt Romney is a raging ass, hates civil asses all the same, and despises Mr. Biden’s smug grin, which was on full display during the campaign debates with Paul Ryan. But beyond that, he couldn’t draw any viable ties.

When Mr. Obama finished up his half-mile loop of Pennsylvania Ave, he saw Mr. Clinton strutting through the memorial gardens, looking happy as ever. He spotted his daughter playing Carmelo Anthony in Ping-Pong off the east wing.

Through the kitchen window he watched President Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin steal a cookie from his top shelf oatmeal raisin stash, which he thought he had hidden perfectly. And he also spotted House Speaker John Andrew Boehner crawling on the ground outside the Oval Office window, straining to see inside. But none of it seemed unusual.

Mr. Obama headed back towards his quarters and grabbed his favorite shower towel with a gold inscription of Mr. Biden’s beaming face and a speech bubble saying, “Love is unparalleled.” He passed his bed and noticed the bed sheets had been ruffled up, but again thought nothing of it. Something about the shower was off, however, which he immediately realized upon entering. It was the showerhead, cocked a few degrees to the side. It was as if he had fallen asleep for ten years and had missed all of what had happened, and then was debriefed on the period, in extreme detail, in under a minute.

He had gone on a sugar rage with Mr. Biden, Mr. Clinton, Mr. Putin and Mr. Boehner. They had bought 75 pounds of straight sugar cubes, liquefied them with water and drank them in a chug- ging contest. The sugar high hit them about five minutes later, and when it did, at 2am, when all else was quiet on the white house lawn, all hell broke loose. Mr. Biden immediately gravitated to his guilty pleasure in turning on “National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets” with Mr. Vladimirovich Putin. Sadly, Biden’s sugar high tolerance wasn’t as great as that of the others and he fell asleep halfway through. Mr. Putin nonetheless pressed on like a true pro and watched the entire movie. Towards the end, out of his newfound love for American Nationalism, Republicanism and Nicholas Cage movies, Mr. Putin hired a tattoo artist, ordered him to shave Mr. Biden’s head, paint a donkey on it and emblazon the Declaration of Independence across his back. Mr. Putin, with the greatest sugar tolerance of the entire group, continued on throughout the night into the morning in search of further sweets…

Boehner’s sugar high transported him back in time to his childhood years. He used to think of himself as a 007-esque spy kid, just appreciably diminished both in height and his capacity to be surreptitious. So, when Mr. Obama found John crawling outside the Oval Office window, his only conspiratorial thought was to infiltrate the door. Mr. Clinton had disappeared into the Kennedy gardens soon after his high set in. After hours of futile searching among the topiary trees for his buddy, Mr. Obama found Mr. Clinton sniffing teapots in the China room at 5am.

So, the showerhead, which Mr. Obama had reached for as he lost his footing while playing “name the papal pervert” with Mr. Clinton at 5:30am, had in fact been the key. Mr. Obama’s daughter and Carmelo Anthony playing table tennis was nothing out of the ordinary