Obama arrives at camp with his family. It’s late in the morning and quickly approaching noon. The Obamas have just finished eating brunch in Hale’iwa and are making a short pitstop at Camp Erdman before continuing on to view the albatross of Ka’ena point. Ms. Angie has long since accomplished her morning routine of walking to the climbing shed and back, leash in hand with Russel attached to the end, meandering to-and-fro beside the calico cat that has claimed Ms. Angie (along with every other cat at camp) as a sort of goddess. The type of goddess you find in Greek mythology that leaves Filipino food out on their porch for all the local fauna to feast.

As of now, however, she has returned Russel to his home and begun her mid morning hobby of conversational stalking in the small patch of grass behind assembly. Unawares of her “linguistic prowess,” the Obamas slowly approach, fertile with questions. Malia is the first to flag down Ms. Angie’s attention, curious as to where the bathrooms may be located. In response to Malia’s question, Ms. Angie begins to scold Malia for not trimming the trees within the Marquez yard, and then quickly switches to the topic of how many leaves she herself has raked this morning and how many hours she has worked today (she believes this number to be 8 hours, even though it is just past 11:30am). Obama, now being the second to see Ms. Angie, approaches her to once again reiterate the question previously stated by his daughter.

As He walks closer to Ms. Angie, her attention is immediately diverted away from Malia, and for the first time in the history of mankind, Barack Obama and Ms. Angie make solid eye contact. A light bursts on within Ms. Angie’s consciousness. She has seen this man before. He is no stranger to her. She recognizes him as one of the main wrestlers that participated in the previous night’s recording of “Presidential Primary Democratic Smackdown” put on by WWE. She is star struck. She doesn’t know what to say. She is absolutely speechless. Obama curiously looks at Ms. Angie, then proceeds to ask where the restrooms are. Still unable to answer, Ms. Angie just stares. Seeing that his question is not being understood he asks once more. Again, Ms. Angie responds with a stare.

Obama, seeing no one else around and ready to move on decides to take his chances with a possible port-a-potty down by the entrance of Ka’ena point instead of continuing this fruitless venture of a conversation. He then corrals his family back into the still running 2018 Honda Odyssey parked in the spot labeled “Obama” and continues his journey. Ms. Angie, now just snapping out of her star-stricken daze, continues to rake leaf pile after leaf pile into the Marquez fence.

This article was written by the lovely Morgan Gerber, who can tell you the stories of generations old, young, and paranormal should you ever locate him as he wanders the sand-swept shores of his favorite Hawaiian beaches.