The advisor also felt a bit sorry for him.
Who knew that in the final month, the "Red Shoes Scandal" would erupt...
"Haven't they found someone to take the fall yet?!" James Dan Quayle asked.
Office advisor Richardson, looking at his expression, also felt a bit empathetic and lowered his voice, "This kind of thing cannot be admitted; if they admit it, it would be catastrophic for them. All they can do now is to hold out until the end."
"How do they hold out!"
The proxy Mr. President extended his hand in dissatisfaction, waving it, "Is it just hiding like a turtle without doing anything and leaving all the pressure to me?"
Richardson was also helpless.
Who told you that you are just a proxy president?
Anyone pulled from the back would be someone you can't resist.
Richardson's pupils shrank, immediately covering his mouth, gesturing for silence, and pointing around, meaning: don't speak erratically, they might hear it.
It's not like they haven't installed bugs in the presidential office before.
James Dan Quayle nodded slightly, signaling for him to move his hand and took a deep breath, with a dejected face, "I've done all I can, now, let's hope God is on our side."
"There's one more thing..."
The other party raised his head, rubbing his temples painfully, "Say it, it surely isn't anything good."
"After the Red Shoes incident broke out, about 20,000 citizens have already left the United States, with a large number entering Mexico."
"Including many skilled professionals, especially family units with a majority of females, this phenomenon is still ongoing."
The quirks of the elite class have indeed scared many people away.
They are afraid they might be the next.
Some parents who lost their children naturally linked this event together, forming the main force of the Anti-red shoes club.
The power of hatred is strong...
Scaring those on the list enough to not dare to go out.
James Dan Quayle frowned, "Close our border line, any act of going to Mexico is treasonous, and all should be arrested."
Richardson was anxious upon hearing this, "Such suppression could instead ignite a larger conflict between the government and citizens, no way, absolutely not."
"Then what good ideas do you have? This won't work, that won't work, screw it, you've replaced it with Garfield."
The dissatisfied proxy president pushed all the documents on the table to the ground and walked off with a dark face.
Even a clay statue has a temper.
A powerless president is not even as good as a dog...
In the office, Richardson let out a long sigh, his back silhouette somewhat desolate.
In fact, the reality was more "exaggerated" than Richardson had said.
In San Diego, California, the exit roads were filled with cars.
It was visible that many whole families had set out, with luggage racks on the roofs, their destination—the northwestern Mexican city, Tijuana.
Many were actually fleeing from disaster, not wanting to be swept up in this "conflict."
And some were just tired of life in the United States, wanting to settle in Mexico, as it's all North America anyway.
A pickup truck marked as the California Emergency Affairs Office was speeding on the roadway with a loudspeaker.
"Everyone turn back, or you'll be arrested!"
"Everyone turn back, or you'll be arrested!"
When they too got caught in traffic, the loudspeaker kept blaring.
A woman wearing glasses sat in a nearby Beetle car, with tattoos on her face...
Listening to the noise, it grew increasingly irritating.
She grabbed an Italian Beretta 92F pistol from the passenger seat, pulled the slide to load it, opened the door, and fired at the pickup truck's driver's seat.
The person in the passenger seat died on the spot, the driver, having caught it in the corner of his eye, ducked his head upon realizing something was wrong, avoiding a fatal hit, but was still shot in the arm, screaming in pain, terrifiedly pushing the door to get out, his whole body bleeding heavily, he stumbled, trying to get up.
The woman circled around the front of the car, walked up to him, and kicked him over.
She took out a new magazine and loaded it, pressing the trigger to his head...
Still not venting enough, she pulled out a sanitary pad from her pants and threw it in his face before getting back in the car, reversing aggressively, snapping the front bumper of the car behind, speeding off through the muddy terrain off the highway.
The windshield wipers of the car behind were sweeping away, the male driver was stunned, the wife next to him was munching on chips with the same 'seen-a-ghost' expression, while in between them emerged two heads, a cute girl, and a hunting dog.
In bewilderment looking at bewilderment.
See, a woman that even a period can't kill, certainly has a strong fighting capability.
When the police arrived, there were only shell casings scattered everywhere and two bodies inside and outside the car.
And the eyewitnesses?
They also ran away...
At this time, a bumperless SUV arrived at the border station; it was just the family of three with a dog from before.
"Bentley, will they let us through? I heard the Mexicans closed the border station," the wife sat upright, asking with some concern.
"Didn't you hear the news?"
The husband, startled, then manually turned up the volume on the car radio.
A woman's voice came through.
"The National Palace stated that American residents are welcome to seek refuge in Mexico and are welcome to join Mexican citizenship. The Armed Forces will protect your safety, and no one will seize your assets. Please cooperate with border crossing personnel for registration."