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7 Jul

EPISODE 01: Arrival at the Big House – by Eugeniusz S. Lazowski


Beginning of the presidential: January 20 at noon.

Several cars and a truck cross the park of the Big House and stop in front of the main entrance of the presidential residence.

Daniel Kramp and his wife get out of a car, with the inseparable housekeeper Ms Ingrid Brontenserious, the body guards services of the Secret Services get out of the other cars and a truck stops beside the cars.

They are welcomed by Mr. Louis Foster, “chief usher” of the residence, waiting on the lawn. Behind him, some men and women of service, in uniform and perfectly aligned.

The chief usher is a sort of super-master who manages all the service staff and is responsible for the smooth running of the presidential residence.

Louis goes to meet them, introduces himself with a slight bow, trying in vain to explain to the new guests who he is and what his duties are.

Uselessly, because he is literally overwhelmed by the impetuosity of the new guests, in fact Super Dan goes immediately to meet him with a smile and throws two or three pats on his shoulder, almost making him fall to the ground: “So son, how’s it going, which way the wind is blowing?

The new President, with his hands on his hips, raises his head looking up at the Big House like a plate of beans and sausages.

“Well, it’s not a bad shack,” he goes on.  

His wife Gwendoline turns to Louis and points to the mysterious truck. “Will you kindly take care of it? Thanks, guy.”

Louis, still staggering, approaches the truck and beckons the rest of the service staff to join him.

The security agents open the truck and finally the mystery is revealed: it contains the Kramp family’s luggage, especially his wife’s luggages.

All the suitcases and trunks are unloaded on Louis and his staff, with a bent back and loaded like mules, while staggering around trying to get the luggage inside.

“Take care, don’t forget anything!” is chased by his wife, a strong and capable woman, twenty years younger than her husband.

Poor Louis puffing, with two suitcases under his arms and two more in his hands, accompanies them inside so that they can familiarize themselves with the new residence.

As he climbs the entrance staircase, one of the waiters laden with luggage falls to the ground and is buried by them.

“I welcome you,” Louis continued, bent over by fatigue. “…pant pant…on behalf of all service personnel in the Presidential Palace…uff…please gentlemen, this way…”

“Here we are at the north entrance. It was finished…pant pant…at the beginning of the 19th century, the stuccoes and marbles are original from that time, so please…pay some attention.” he continues staggering.

Super Dan looks around and pulls a huge cigar out of his jacket.

“Damn, that’s a lot of stuff.”

Then he rips the top of the cigar with his teeth, spits it on the floor and lights it.

“Yuck! Yeah, that’s some fancy shack. I bet my neighbor Donald Trump doesn’t have one like that either.””

“Classy, darling, it’s called classy.” His wife comes in.

“Ah yes, yes, classy, I mean classy.”

“Perhaps I should show you to your rooms,” Louis mentions. “So you can put your luggage away,” he hopefully concludes.

A sudden thunder: a second waiter tears to the ground buried by the luggage.

Super Dan looks frowningly at his wife. “We’ll have to change the staff…”

“I’ve brought just the bare minimum for a First Lady…”

While they are climbing the wide marble staircase one of the unfortunate waiters loaded with suitcases tumbles down with all the luggage he had on him.

It’s the third victim and it’s a tragedy: one of Gwendoline’s beauty houses breaks down with her perfume.

“Noo! My perfumes nooo!”

Very ready Ms Brontenserious, Austrian iron housekeeper, intervenes by waving the whip she had under her arm.

“Gather everything! Schnell! Schnell! Clean it up! Clean it up!”

At the top of the stairs is Big House Chief of Staff Mr. James Moore. Imperturbable, British heritage, witnessed the whole scene.

“Today I foresee the slaughter of the innocent.”

Attracted by the voice, everyone raises their heads to him.

“And who is that mannequin?”

“He’s your Chief of Staff. “In theory, you should have chosen him.” Gwendoline whispers to her husband.

“Aaaahhhh…” Super dan stunned.

They all climb the last few steps together, and jumping up the new President meets Moore, and in his usual eagerness he shakes his hand vigorously and pats him on the shoulder.


“So, here’s our Chief of Staff! How are you doing, Jimbo? Everything good?”

“A little less now, thank you.” Moore replies, staggering. “My name is James, by the way, Mr. President, James.”

Super Dan clenches his big jaw, waving his best smile, while he turns to his wife pretending indifference.

“Who the hell is a chief of staff?” he whispers to her.

Gwendoline glares at him and whispers.

“He’s the most important member of the president’s executive office. He directs the staff at the president’s service. He appoints him. He’s his most trusted advisor, his right-hand man.” She whispers to him.

He keeps smiling and staring at Moore. “Aahhhh…”

Gwendoline glares at her husband. “The President” whispers to him.

The president seems to have a paralysis with his smiling jaw.

The wife elbows him in his hip and whispers firmly.

“The president.  You’re the President!”

Finally Super Dan seems to be shaking off his catalepsy, trying to sound confident.

“Of course, uh, Mr. Moore, our chief… of staff. The head of the office…uh…of…service…of…the executive…of…sure…the executive …of…the president…of the office. Of course, of course, I appointed him!”

Moore is a sphinx.

Grown up in one of the best English families, for generations in international trade, a long experience abroad in international finance, nothing seemed to upset him. 

An elegant woman with Hispanic features comes stopping by his side. It’s Secretary of State Maria Isabel Blanco.

“Now I know for sure.” Moore whispers caustic. “Who suggested to him  my name?”

“I did” answers the woman. “Otherwise he would have appointed the gardener of his mansion…”

“I see. The expression He directs the staff at the president’s service must have confused him. It’s probably too much for him.”

“Let’s get ready. There are tough times ahead.”

“I should have asked for more.” says Moore.

“Mr. President,” Moore begins, “let me to introduce Ms Maria Isabel Blanco, your Secretary of State.”

Super Dan shakes her hand totally lost but flaunting confidence. “Of course, of course… very pleased to meet you. The Secretary.”

“You’ve been chosen by the President too,” adds Moore acid.

“The President, of course, of course.”

Gwendoline glares at him, gives him another elbow in his hip. “The President!” she whispers to him.

“The President. Ah, of course, of course, I’m the President, of course, I appointed her!”

Blanco indicates the long and large hallway. “If we’re to go ahead, Mr President, the rest of your staff is waiting for you in the presidential sitting room. “We can all meet.”

“But of course, come on, I can’t wait to meet all these…er…staff…of course…” replies the President.

Everyone makes their way to the salon while Super Dan, elegant as a rhinoceros, bumps into a waiter, making him fly over the railing down the hall, over the pile of luggage he was carrying. Then he continues on, barely giving the unfortunate man a glimpse: “They should renew the staff around here, though.”

Walking along, he whispered to his wife. “How many people have I appointed, may I ask?”

“Several, darling, several.”

The last waiter left, meanwhile, is burying his luggage on the ground.

Louis along the way shows the many rooms that are hidden behind each door, with brief historical hints and some references to previous presidents. The new tenant of the Big House hides behind his usual swagger his complete lack of preparation.

“Here, this is the Ford Room, wanted at the time by the President for quick meetings with a few collaborators.”

“Of course, President Ford! I always liked him a lot, Harrison Ford. I’ve seen all his movies! I’m crazy about Indiana Jones!”

Louis, a little confused, opens a door and shows them the State Dining Room. “Gentlemen, you can admire the State Dining Room, which is intended for special occasions and special guests. It was renovated with stuccowork and decorations at the behest of President Monroe. Notice the richness of the details.”

“Monroe”? Who hasn’t seen her? Wow, the most fascinating woman in the history of cinema, Marilyn Monroe! I’ve seen her movies too! What a big…”

His wife glares at him with her eyes.

“I wanted to say…uh…that’s classy. What a great actress.”

Louis, has  that thousand-yard stare, but he strives to stay calm and continue the tour.

“On your left hangs one of Johnson’s masterpieces, entitled “Folk Family”.

“But who would have imagined it? Dwayne Johnson? The Rock? He paints too! Oh, I’m so prepared. I’ve seen all his films.”
“Culture is the light that overcomes the darkness of ignorance.” is Blanco’s quote.

“It’s the middle of the night in his braincase by comparison…” Moore concludes.

A tear falls on Louis’ face as the First Lady glares at her husband.
“I should have asked for double.” Moore concludes.

They all arrive at the Presidential sitting room together.


Inside there are the other main staff members who will accompany the President, they are discussing. Moore goes in first and introduces them.

“May I do the honors, Mr. President? Let me introduce you Benjamin Wright, Secretary of the Interior, Oliver Bell, Secretary of the Treasury and General Toughy Byjove. This is Jeane Naive, his personal secretary.” I wonder who picked it out…

Super Dan shakes hands vigorously by patting everyone on the back.

“How nice to meet you gentlemen. It’s about time.”

“Mr. President, let me tell you what an honor it’s for me to serve my country and to…” begins Benjamin Wright, immediately interrupted by the President’s vigorous pats on the back.

“Sure, sure, you’re right.” Wright is staggering.

Oliver Bell coughs while he swallows pills and drinks a glass of water.

“Caught caught excuse me Mr. President, it’s the excitement, if you know how long I’ve dreamed of this moment, helping my people to face future challenges…”

But he is also crushed by strong pats on the back, which almost knocked him to the ground.

“Surely, I agree with you, that’s for sure!”

General Byjove, veteran of a thousand battles, in high uniform with all his medals hanging from his chest and saber on his side, snaps to attention and slams his heels when the President is in front of him.

“Mr President, at your orders! General Byjove, Minister of Defense.”

When Super Dan gives him a couple of warm pats, Byjove stands at attention like a statue.

“Here’s a guy I like.” says the President.

“Of course, he’s the only one who doesn’t think.” Blanco mutters.

“Well, gentlemen, are you ready to board my ship and set sail for glory?”

He exclaims Super Dan trying to galvanize the staff.

“As long as it doesn’t end up like the Titanic…” whispers Moore to Blanco.

“Sure sir, we’ll make our country even stronger and spread wealth to the weaker classes!” Wright replies enthusiastically.

“But are we sure this is my choice?” he confabulates perplexed Super Dan with his wife.

“Your experts have suggested to take on the staff a prepared and hopeful young man, a dreamer,” replies Gwendoline.

“A dreamer?”

“Yes, an idealist. One who really believes in it. You know, just to appease public opinion, you know?”

“Ahh, yeah sure, I get it now. A sucker…” chuckles the President.

He takes two steps towards Wright with a big smile and puts both hands on his shoulders.

“Good son, that’s the way I want you, always thinking of the people.” He turns around, goes back next to his wife. “Where did they catch such an idiot?” he whispers to her.

Bell’s breathing gets labored, so he takes out his inhaler and shoves it in his mouth.

“Who was the asthmatic over there?” mutters Super Dan to his wife.

“Oliver Bell, Secretary of the Treasury. One of the best minds on the planet, they say.”

“Yeah, but everything else is to be thrown away…”

“It seems that since childhood he ate bread and economy and was already convinced at university that he was affected by 50% of the world’s diseases.”

“I get it, another piece of junk…” concludes the President.

Moore continues with the presentations.

“This is Jeane Naive, your personal secretary.” Beautiful, young,

breathtaking curves.

“Do you remember her, Mr. President?” continues Moore in a sarcastic tone.

The president smiles his best, and with a sprinting gait, he steps up to the young lady, takes her hand and kisses her.

“Of course I remember her. She’s the only one I chose…”

His wife is dark in the face, with a pulled smile and a 20,000 volt look at her consort.

“You didn’t tell me that, dear!”

Super Dan is petrified halfway through kissing his hand, slowly leaves his secretary’s hand and calmly returns to his wife’s side, trying to set a tone.

“No? Ah…really? Must have slipped my mind. One detail. You know, with all the things on my mind…”

“Sure dear, I understand. We’ll talk about these details tonight. And your head…”

The concerned President swallows while loosening his tie knot.

Louis, in the meantime, intervenes, trying to calm the situation.

“Well, gentlemen, now that you have gathered, with your permission I leave you to your duties and go collect the luggage and the waiters sown in the street.”

He takes a few steps before stopping and turning around. “But before I take my leave, Mr President, I’d like to remind you of the ritual picture from the first day. It’s the tradition.”

“The ritual photo? The first day’s photo? What photo?” exclaims Super Dan surprised.

“The photo of the new president with the eagle, the symbol of Mont of Groovia.”

The shocked President addresses his wife muttering. “Did you know about this?”

“I’ll be damned if I know anything!”  Then out loud smiling: “Um, I mean, no dear, no one told me about this ritual.”

“It will be my solicitude to escort you to the Old Eagle Room, Mr. President, where the eagle is with its paw tied to its perch, rest assured. Then I’ll call the official photographer of the Big House, who will join you for the ritual photo,” Louis explains.

“All right, let’s go take this picture.” The new President follows him a bit annoyed.

They head for the hallway and arrive in another room.


Inside there is an oversized desk and at its side a large eagle on a perch, with its paw tied to it by a leather lace.

Louis points the desk at the new President.

“Please, Mr President, take your seat at the desk, next to the eagle. “As you can see, rest assured it’s very safe.. The bird has one leg tied to his perch. I’ll get the official photographer. Excuse me.”

Louis closes the doors on his way out, Super Dan enters and goes to sit at his desk carefully, trying to stay as far away from the eagle as possible. Now he’s alone in the room with the bird.

“So, here we are, you and me. The symbol of the country and its President.”

“Are you ready for the ritual photo? Yeah, who knows how many you’ve taken, huh? You old hen! Ha-ha-ha.”

He starts laughing, but he stops right away… “Am I talking to a bird?”

The eagle seems nervous and starts gnawing on the string that ties it with his beak. The President extends a hand to caress it but the animal reacts by pecking him.

“Ow! Hey, you caught my hand! You’re a bird of ill omen, not a national symbol. You’ve hurt me, you skinned chicken!”

The eagle keeps gnawing on the string and is about to break free.

Super Dan is holding his wounded hand, grumpy with the animal.

“You idiot bird! Look what you’ve done to me!”

His aggressive attitude infuriated the eagle, which with one last beak severed the string that tied him to the perch: now he’s free.

“They ought to lock you in a cage, nothing but pictures!”

The eagle approaches him step by step, walking on the perch, looking threatening, and only now the new tenant of the Big House realizes the situation and begins to worry.

“Oh, bloody hell! But he got loose… how the hell did you do that? You son of a…”

Super Dan stops talking and understands the hostile intentions of the bird that continues to advance in small steps towards him.

Concern has now become fear, he begins to put his feet on the ground to push the chair and move away from the eagle.

“Good boy, stay nice, stay nice, huh? You’re such a beautiful animal, you know? I’ve always admired eagles, really, they’re my favorite animals!”

A strident cry comes out of the eagle’s beak, which with a wing shot jumps on Super Dan and starts to peck at him relentlessly, while he instinctively protects himself with his arms over his head, wriggling and screaming.

“Aahh! For God’s sake, go away! Get away! Damn bird, get off me, get away!”

The eagle is furious and keeps pecking at him, he waved his arms trying to pull her away, but he fell from his armchair and tumbled to the ground unbalanced by his belly, with the bird coming at him now enraged.

“Aahh! “You big son of a bitch chicken! Go away, get lost, I’m the President, you stupid animal! Stop!”

He rolls to the ground screaming, trying to drive the angry animal away, and for a moment he manages to push it away and lift himself up, remaining on his knees.

He looks up and understands why the eagle has moved away: he hasn’t stopped attacking, now he’s taking it out on something else: his toupee.

Yes, the new President, that has loads of hair, the great Super Dan with the mane of a lion has a secret: and the eagle has just detached it from his head and keeps it in his beak as he flies around the room.

“Goddamn you, I’m the President, you son of a chicken! I order you to stop…”

He sees his toupee flying around the room in the eagle’s beak, kneeling, shocked, open-mouthed and with his hand on his head.

“What? My hair? My hair!!!! You little beast, give me back my hair! I command you!”


Moore and the other staff members decide to join the President to attend the famous ritual photo with the eagle. They go out and walk to the Old Eagle Room, crossing the long and large hallways, while they’re talking.

“I’m sure these years will mark a historical turning point to our country by our work.” Wright begins.

“Achoo! Achoo! Sorry, it’s the excitement, you know. Oh, God, where did I put my aspirin?” Bell is asking.

Ms Brontenserious, coming at them marching like a soldier, walks past Bell, pulls a pack of aspirin out of his pocket and passes it to him, without even stopping. Stunned Bell grabs them.

“Ah…thank you. But how did she know? “


“I can’t wait to see the President’s picture. It’s gonna be martial, I bet. Like a true leader!” proclaims Byjove.


Super Dan is squatting behind the desk, from which only his head pops out with a soldier’s helmet and his hand holding a baseball bat donated by U.S. President Donald Trump.

A grin on his face.

“Come to your President, pretty bird, come to Daddy, I have a big surprise for you. Look what I’m holding…”

With a not very feline leap, he rushes on the eagle, shouts and waves the baseball bat, slapping everywhere.

Human and eagle cries fill the room, noises of furniture and broken glass, feathers and hair flying everywhere.

“Banzaiiii!!!! Take that, and that! Where are you running off to, you chicken shit! I’ll catch you! Stay still, don’t move, I order you not to move, damn bird!”

He chases the eagle around the room, wielding the baseball bat, hitting and destroying everything but the bird.

“Goddamn son of a chicken, will you hold still? I am the President, I order you to stop! Give me back my hair!”


The President’s staff is approaching the Old Eagle Room, they are talking to each other and Bell finally takes his aspirin.

“Achoo! One of these will solve everything, you’ll see.” Bell apologizes.

“Everything all right, colleague? Sure you don’t want to call the doctor?” Wright asks worried.

“First day of work at the Big House? Are you kidding me? I’d rather die. Caught.”

“We don’t miss much, it seems to me.” Blanco answers.

“Cheer up, Bell!” Byjove exhorts him. “A true soldier never gives up, remember.”

“But I really haven’t even done military service. I was rejected for poor health.”

Byjove looks at Bell with disgust, while secretary Naive looks at him with compassion. 

“Poor thing, how you must have suffered. By the way, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time. What exactly does a secretary have to do?

Silence among those present, no one breathes, everyone stares at her.

I mean, I mean, not that I don’t know my homework, it’s just that I wanted to know… you know… what exactly do I have to do?”

“How did the president choose this one?” Blanco asks.

“High intelligence quotient? Bachelor’s degree in pure mathematics? Master’s degree in quantum physics? “Miss Fishnet Stockings?” Moore bites off.

“Details, my girl, details. You’ll learn over time.” Byjove’s calming her more and more exalted. “What matters now is to organise the defence of the country, absolutely! That’s why I must speak to the President at once. From the first moment he gave me the impression that he was a real leader.”


Super Dan is a Lion Heart mangy, so he takes an ancient shield and a spear off the wall and points it at the eagle, preparing to attack.

Super Dan now peeled off an ancient shield and a spear from the wall and points it at the eagle, preparing to attack.

“Damn you, son of a plucked chicken, get hit, just once, just once, and what does it cost you? You’ll see the end I make you do.”

The eagle is in a corner of the room with his toupee in his beak, he in the opposite corner stares at him with a sneer and dreams of his end: his thought appears in comic book style and inside the “cloud” there is the roast eagle stuck on a spit. He licks his moustache while enjoying his lunch…

“Come here to your President, you chicken of my boots, get caught, you’ll see what picture I’ll take of you, in an oven with potatoes!”

Super Dan starts off the attack screaming, runs towards the eagle throwing spears everywhere, breaking what little remained intact in the room.

“You beastly beast, give me back my hair, that’s an order, I’m your President! Crow of my boots, if I stab you I’ll bake you in the oven, nothing but pictures!”

The eagle continues to fly around the room with his toupee in his beak, spreading hair everywhere, the President continues to chase the bird by firing shots all over the room, following what remains of his now undone toupee.

“Damn crow, you’re plucking my toupee! Stop, you damn bird, stop. My hair, my hair, no, no!”

Furious he takes a run and jumps with all his belly screaming kung fu style, flying all over the room … but the bird with a wing shot moves at the last moment and Super Dan goes straight into the glassware, the only thing that was still intact.


The six members of the President’s staff have now arrived at the door of the Old Eagle Room and can hear the noise inside.

They froze in amazement.

“Good heavens, what’s going on?” exclaims Naive.

“Achoo!  Oh, God, the earthquake. My anti-anxiety meds, where are they?” asks worried Bell, who pulls a bottle of pills out of his jacket.

“An attack! “An assassination attempt on our President! Nobody move!” Byjove eagerly sheds his saber that slams so hard in Bell’s face, that flies backwards, landing heavily on his back and scattering his pills in the air.

Such a racket they hear in the room, while pills are raining down in the hallway.

“On my brave attack, let’s save the President!” cries Byjove, who, holding his saber in the air, is turning towards Bell on the ground.

“But what’s he doing? Do you think you should be fainting right now? Get up, by golly, behave like a man!”

Naive leans over Bell, trying to help him,with Wright, while Bell tries to blot the bleeding nose with a handkerchief.

“General, what are you doing? you almost killed that poor man!” cries Blanco.

“How’s Bell doing? Bell? My goodness, he’s not answering anymore!” says Wright, Naive kneels on the ground, bending over Bell, with her large breasts a few inches from Bell’s nose, crossing his eyes.

“Bell! Bell! Answer me! Oh, my God, there’s no sign of life. What should we do in such cases?” exclaims the agitated secretary.

“Mouth-to-mouth?” Bell replies with little voice.

“The dead man has risen from the dead. Ms Naive, you have thaumaturgical properties,” comments Moore.

Byjove continues to wave his sword in the air more and more concerned, while Blanco and Moore dodge, narrowly avoiding his cleavers.

“Will you stop that?” the general says. “Pick him up or knock him down, make up your mind! Our president’s life is in danger!”

Bell squints his eyes after Byjove’s words and tries to get up, helped by Naive and Wright, while two Secret Service bodyguards rush in.

“At last! You two, our President is in there, he’s in danger!” cries Byjove. “Attack! Let’s save the president!”

The two bodyguards break down the door, get into the room, their weapons pointed, followed by Byjove who holds the saber.


As soon as they enter, all they can see is the President’s head, kneeling, popping out from behind the desk and something shaking near him. They shoot instinctively and hit the eagle, killing it.

An unreal silence falls.

Behind the two bodyguards and the general enter and stand on the door the others too: Bell supported by Wright and Naive, Moore and Blanco.

The President kneels with the baseball bat in one hand, the shield in the other, a soldier’s helmet on his head and above the helmet his hairless toupee.

Next to him on the ground the dead eagle, the whole furniture destroyed, all over the room it’s raining feathers and hair like snow at Christmas.

“Hold it, everybody, don’t touch the President! I’ll kill you all!” exclaims Byjove.

Moore impassive takes a few steps to the eagle and stops to look at it.

“Yes, that’s him. You killed the terrorist.”

“Terrorist”? Where is the terrorist?” the general asks, wielding his saber. “Give me that bastard!”

“General, you’re an expert, what terrorist group do you belong to, exactly, at the Turkey Festival?”

“President, I don’t understand…” asks Naive interdicted. “But what happened?”

“When you say two birds with one stone…” says Moore.

“My God, has there been an earthquake? What happened? And where’s the terrorist?” Asks Wright, bewildered.

“He’s right there on the ground. He’s been neutralized. In fact, if you take a skewer, we can eat it.” Moore replies.

The photographer comes running. “Sorry I’m late. I had to run. I couldn’t find my lens and…”

The photographer is silenced on the doorstep.

Unwittingly he presses the button on the camera and takes the picture, thus capturing the whole scene:

the President on his knees, the dead eagle, the room destroyed and in the air all over the room feathers and hair fluttering everywhere.

This is the official photo of the “First Day of Government of President Daniel Kramp”, which ends like this.

And it’s just the beginning…

See you next week. Ending theme!

Super Dan
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