WASHINGTON, D.C. – In recent months, the White House has been rocked by a series of biting incidents involving the presidential canines, leading to a widespread cover-up of the truth. Unfortunately, none of the injuries sustained by federal staffers or even the president himself have been deemed serious, but a far more sinister development has emerged from the shadows – Commander, the youngest German Shepherd to recently reside at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave, has allegedly contracted lycanthropy. It seems that the casual neglect that the president has shown toward his family and his country extends even to his four legged friends.
Rumors abound that Commander’s transformation occurred during a diplomatic mission to Transylvania, a region not typically associated with werewolf legends but infamous as the birthplace of Elie Wiesel and Art Garfunkel. Despite the lack of details surrounding the source of Commander’s affliction, the consequences have been dire. The once-loyal canine has reportedly been creating a secret race of super werewolf Secret Service agents.
Dubbed the “Howling Commandos,” a moniker that is totally original and has never been used before in real life or fiction, this elite corps of werewolf agents comprises at least two dozen agents who were bitten by Commander during his normal rounds of menacing people who are not used to vicious dogs. Their modus operandi involves launching daring full moon raids on perceived enemies of the ruling regime, primarily targeting domestic pundits and commenters who dare to deviate from the party line. Shockingly, they’ve been implicated in several savage maulings of citizens who voted against the incumbent administration.
The apex of Commander’s reign of terror came when he reportedly bit the president himself, bringing his extraordinary run to an abrupt end. Witnesses describe a harrowing scene as Commander succumbed to a condition reminiscent of were-dementia, leaving him wandering aimlessly and leaving incontinent messes in his wake. His once-commanding bark has devolved into a confused mumbling, eerily reminiscent of the phrase “corn pop.”
Despite attempts to quell rumors and maintain a veneer of normalcy, the truth about the White House dogs’ involvement in these violent incidents cannot be suppressed indefinitely. Questions swirl about the extent of the cover-up and the implications for national security. How could such a catastrophic breach occur within the confines of the presidential residence? And what other secrets might be lurking in the shadows, waiting to be unearthed?
As the nation grapples with the fallout from these revelations, one thing is clear: the legacy of Commander and the Howling Commandos will forever tarnish the image of the White House dogs. No longer revered as symbols of loyalty and fidelity, they now serve as a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked power and the consequences of allowing an elite squad of werwolf assassins to prowl the country.
Stan Dirkson
