The government shutdown has put 420,000 federal employees out of work, less than a week before Christmas. But the White House had its toilets and electricity cut off as well. The president had to poop in a jar in total darkness.

“This shutdown was only supposed to hurt common people!” whined the president as he fumbled for the empty toilet paper spool. The gas was also shut off, dashing the president’s hopes for a 22 course Christmas dinner. “No gas?” he whimpered. “We won’t be able to roast the zebra and boil the leopard for my feast.”

He pulled out his phone only to find his Twitter account had been terminated. Furious and tweetless, he banged his head against a White House banister until his forehead was bruised and bloody. “Doc!” he shouted. “I’m injured! Bandage me up now!”

But due to the shutdown, the president’s health insurance was cancelled.

Stumbling through the unlit hallways, the hungry, bloody, poop-stained leader bellowed for help. But his staff had been laid off. He flung open the fridge, only to find an empty mayonnaise jar and a half eaten French fry. “This shutdown sucks!” he wailed.

His anger turned to fear when he realized his secret service detail had also gone home for the holidays. “Who’s going to protect me from the American people?” Terrified, he locked himself in the White House attic and curled up in fetal position, waiting for the shutdown to end.

His cabinet went home. His generals went home. His wife went home. His manicurist went home. Even his hairpiece went home. Unable to stand it anymore, the president burst out of the White House and ran through the weeds, pallid and filthy.

“Just give me back my tanning bed,” he cried “and I’ll give you back your government!”