Yes it Does
Part III
Mr. President
Not too long ago, on a visit to Washington, D.C., Yes joined a crowd of out-of-towners taking a tour of the White House. While the tour group was admiring a bust of Warren G. Harding, Yes tiptoed away from them and helped himself to a solo tour. Overhearing some kind of conversation regarding diplomacy coming from a nearby roundish room, Yes snuck behind a door left slightly ajar.
“But sir,” someone said, “we’ve got to do something. They could attack!”
“I don’t care if a gun is in my face, I’m not going to war against Asia!”
“Yes!” Yes shouted.
“What was that?” the President said, peeking behind the door. The other man grabbed Yes and pulled him into the room. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“It does,” Yes said.
“What?” said the other man.
“It does yes. Does yes? Yes it does. It yes it does yes does.”
“You should be dead!” the President told him. Yes walked over and kicked him in his nether regions. The other man hoisted Yes by the seat of his pants and the scruff of his neck and chucked him out the window. Yes landed face first on the lawn.
“It does yes,” he pondered as a briefcase launched from the President’s office hit him on the head.
The end.