The following morning, after his coffee and strawberry tartines, the president decided that he was going to try to call the aliens back. He *69 ’d the last caller and found that the call had originated from New Jersey, USA. Strange, thought the president, but he called it anyway. Predictably, the number had been disconnected or was no longer in service. Angry, he called in his aid, Peter.
“Do you believe I am a sane person, Peter?” asked the French president.
“Of course, sir,” answered Peter, his smug, French face never wavering.
So, they president took a deep breath and told Peter everything that had happened the previous night. Nodding, Peter said nothing, only tapped on his cell phones screen with his stylus. Several minutes later, large men in white coats arrived and hauled the French president away. They all kind of looked like Nick Cage.
Peter later called a press conference and told everyone that the president had fallen deathly ill and would be replaced by his 2nd in command, himself of course.