It all started when...

Mooch took his first steps onto the Whitehouse lawn and the sensation of opportunity washed over him. He swaggered up to the entrance labeled "Best People" and tried the door - it was locked. He put his hands up to the glass, hoping he could spot some fly ladies inside. Dejected, he lowered his hand, there were no babes to be seen.

He noticed another doorway down the path. Approaching it, he hesitated when he saw the clumsily gilded sign that read "Servant Entrance". Sure that his salvation was at hand, he whispered thanks for the rather antiquated habits of the current administration.

He was shocked when he realized this door was locked too. In a heightening panic he almost forgot to peep out any nearby chicks. Frantically thrashing his head about, his concern only grew with the lack of bodacious honeys.

Composing himself, he re-popped his collar, re-tosseled his hair, and continued around the building's exterior, occasionally rattling doorknobs and tapping on windows. Despite a gnawing confusion, he continued for several hours. This was surely a test.

Glancing at his stylish watch he noticed it was getting late. After confirming there weren't any hot mamas nearby, he curled up behind some shrubbery.  Using one of Spicer's discarded shoes as a pillow, The Mooch drifted off to sleep.

The next morning he woke excited for a new day. But this one too, would prove fruitless as he continued to roam the perimeter, keeping an eye out for hot women or ways into the Whitehouse, where he was sure he belonged.

Refusing to have his spirit broken, he continued diligently. On the tenth day he stopped for a moment. He reflected on his situation and realized he hadn't seen a single attractive woman of childbearing age with traits he valued the entire time he'd been out here. Realizing this job totally wasn't what he had signed up for, he knocked the dust off his jacket, straightened his glasses and fixed his gaze upon the flat, white surface before him.

With a wry grin he shot the building a pair of finger guns, slyly saying "I'll be seeing you around". 

Impressed with his farewell, he turn and walked off the grounds, pleased with how he had handled this adventure.

This would surely go down as another victory for the Mooch.

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