America. Panic stricken the Secret Service mobilized and descended
on
the farm in force. When they got there, the wreckage was clear.
The
aircraft was totally destroyed with only a burned hulk left
smoldering in a
tree line that bordered a farm. Secret Service
descended upon the
smoking hulk but could find no remains of the crew or
the President's
staff. To their amazement, a lone farmer was
plowing a field not too far
away as if nothing at all happened. They
hurried over to surround the
man's tractor.
"Sir," the senior
Secret Service agent asked, panting and out of
breath.
"Did
you see this terrible accident happen?"
"Yep. Sure did." The man
muttered unconcernedly.
"Do you realize that is the President of
the United States airplane?"
"Yep."
"Were there any
survivors?" the agent gasped.
"Nope. They's all kilt straight o
ut." The farmer sighed cutting off
his tractor motor. "I done
buried them all myself. Took most of the
morning."
"The
President of the United States is dead?" The agent gulped in
disbelief.
"Well," the farmer sighed, obviously wanting to get back to his
work.
"He kept a-saying he wasn't ... but you know what a liar he
is."
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