It wasn’t often the secret service heard the first lady screaming. “Theeseeese all your fault Donald!”

“What is my fault?” asked the President.

“Theese man shooting all those innocent people in Vegas!”

“Whoa! Whoa!” shouted the President, “I had nothing to do with that! Some madman starts shooting, and you blame me?”

“It’s from those sounds you make all day! The whole nation can only hear them sounds from theese White House!”

“What sounds?” asked a slightly bewildered president.

“Throughout the night I hear them sounds, and it keeps me awake, and them same sounds are making the whole country edgy!”

“I can’t hear any sounds!” said Donald, “Secret Service can you hear any strange sounds?”

“What did you say sir?” asked the secret service man walking towards the president.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” asked Donald.

“No sir, can’t hear anything because of them sounds round you!”

“See I told you!” said the First Lady, “You have strange sounds coming from you all the time!”

“What does it sound like?” asked the President looking at the secret service man. “Does it sound like my pleasant voice purring to the American people?”

“No sir, it sounds like sabre rattling and knife sharpening, like bullets whizzing and cannons booming!” said the secret service man, “And my missus says she can hear those sounds from our home ten miles away!”

It was a few seconds later the First Lady dragged in the House doctor, “Can you cure my husband?” she asked.

“I can’t hear you!” said the cardiologist.

“My husband has strange sounds coming from him!” she wrote on a paper.

“Ah,” wrote the doctor, “Those are heartbeats of violence! Beating against peace, poundingagainst other communities, thumping against religions, pulsating wrathfullyagainstcoloured people. It started as a gentle tap, grew into a rap, became a thump, then a thud and now resonates like a gigantic bass drum gone mad, erupting from him and enveloping the nation!”

“What’s the cure?” gasped the first lady, slipping another paper into the house doctor’s hand.

“For the president there’s none,” wrote the doctor, “while someone with a gentle heart could heal the nation’s wounds!”

“And will thesound of sabre rattling, knife sharpening and bullets whizzing stop?” shouted the secret service man above the din.

“Yes!” said the doctor, “And if you’ll excuse me I’m on my way to catch a plane to India!”

“India?” asked the First Lady and secret service man with surprise, “What’s the problem there?”

“Same heart problem!” wrote the doctor, “But a heartbeat that’s growing softer by the day as a compassionate people slowly become heartless,killing others for their food habits, thrashing students, raping women, murdering journalists as their heartbeat grows fainter!”

“Shut Up!” shouted the president, as a thousand miles away another leader adjusted his mike and said, “Mitron..!”

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