One day, Bill Clinton decided to stop by a local dentist, Dr. Sam Jones, for a checkup and cleaning. PRS operatives were nearby.
Dr. Jones: Good morning, sir. I understand that you’re here for a checkup and cleaning.
Clinton: That’s right.
Dr. Jones: OK, let’s get started. (Dr. Jones begins his examination) Hmmmm, have you been brushing regularly, sir?
Clinton: What kind of a question is that? Do you ask republicans that question?
Dr. Jones: I don’t understand. It seems like a perfectly reasonable question for a dentist to ask a patient. I ask many, if not most, of my patients that same question.
Clinton: Well, I think you’re out of line! Who put you up to this? It was that bastard Rove, wasn’t it?
Dr. Jones: No, sir. It’s just that I noticed that there is a stain on some of your teeth.
Clinton: A stain? STAIN? Now I know that someone put you up to this! Bastards! I’m sick and tired of this stuff from right-wing nuts determined to ruin my legacy!
Dr. Jones: I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why you’re so upset?
Clinton: Don’t give me that crap. You’re asking me about a stain. I know a hit-job when I see one. I won’t tolerate it.
Dr. Jones: Excuse me, sir, but you have a stain on your teeth, and I was just trying to determine the source of the stain so that I can properly remove it.
Clinton: Listen to me, mister. So far, I don’t like your attitude, but go ahead.
Dr. Jones: Fine. Have you been smoking cigars?
Clinton: CIGARS?! Oh, you are a wise ass. This is a right-wing setup for damned sure. You’ve got that little smirk on your face and you think you’re so clever.
Dr. Jones: Sir, I do not have a smirk on my face, and I would like you to stop pointing your finger in my face.
Clinton: I can point my finger anywhere I want to. Do you know who I am?
Dr. Jones: Yes, indeed I do.
Clinton: OK, I’m glad to hear that. Now, proceed!
Dr. Jones: Beat it.
Clinton: What did you say?
Dr. Jones: You heard me. Get the hell out of my office.
Clinton: Are you out of your mind? I am former President of the United States!
Dr. Jones: Well, then I suggest that you take your sorry ass to a military base for your dental work. Those poor bastards have to put up with your shit. I don’t!
In the hallway outside the office, Clinton’s Secret Service Detail is high-five’ing and doubling over with laughter.
THE END (I love a happy ending.)