“So… are you a crook?”

Nixon nearly spit out his tea. Instead, he merely swallowed the hot concoction while sputtering.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

Celestia shrugged, slowly sipping at her own tea cup. Earl grey, lukewarm, one sugar, just the way she’s liked it for centuries. “I’ve heard some stories… you know. Of the, erm, scandal, as it’s called.”

Nixon narrowed his already-beady eyes at her. Celestia avoided his gaze and inspected her surroundings. The two were seated at a table before the presidential desk, smack in the middle of the Oval Office, which was neither oval-shaped nor very office-like. In fact, it looked more like an artificial, tacky representation of a waiting room for a doctor’s office. Too clean, too boring, and too awkwardly silent for her liking. Actually, wait, that would make it similar to an office.

“I assure you, Princess Celestia, those scandals were nothing but unsubstantiated allegations and slanderous lies against my good name.” Nixon set his tea cup down, not having particularly enjoyed it in the first place. He was more of a coffee guy anyhow. That, or the fresh blood of bleeding heart liberals. “Nothing has been proven yet and nothing ever will… because it didn’t happen.”

Celestia had missed about half of what Nixon had just said, too lost in the quivering of his prominent jowls.

“Uh… sure, sure, indeed,” she said, nodding absently. “It’s just that I want to be positive that I’m not negotiating any agreements with a country whose leader lies to his own people.”

“Lying?” Nixon asked, his chuckling drier than the uneaten crumpet beside his tea cup. “Why, I would never lie to the American people. The nation is one built on trust and integrity from its leaders and politicians, who would never even possibly think of corruption or profiting from their exclusive positions.”

Celestia could have sworn she saw his already pointy nose grow an inch or two longer.

“Well, while I’m sure you’re honest in that regard, I want to be sure I’m dealing with someone of decent trustworthiness and reputation.” Celestia arched a brow. “Can you provide either?”

Nixon straightened his tie and smirked. “I think being the most powerful man of the free world is certainly a testament of that.”

Celestia nodded slightly, sipping at her tea tentatively. “I knew a guy who could bend reality to his will and control the world like a puppet to its strings. You need to step up your game.”

Nixon frowned, then dropped a single sugar cube into his lukewarm tea. He didn’t even stir.

“And from what your political track record has shown, your game has been thrown off for some time now.” Celestia refilled her cup, adding the customary amount of milk that she’s been doing for centuries now. The clink of her spoon against the walls of the tea cup rang in the quiet room. Nixon began to sweat, beads popping up along his forehead like an adolescent teen’s acne. “Which is why I’m curious. Why this suddenly extended hand of foreign policy?”

Nixon licked his lips and tried his best attempt of a smile on his beady weasel face. “Oh, I don’t believe it’s that sudden. Ever since the discovery of Equestria, America has lead a warm hand of support to you and your people.”

Celestia raised a brow. “To keep us from falling to the red tide, am I correct?”

Nixon nearly choked on his tea, but rather swallowed it down, hard. “I can assure you that the only benefits that the government seeks from our partnership is mutual partnership and friendship to better stren—”

Celestia raised a hoof, cutting Nixon off. “Cut it with the political prattle, Mr. President. We both know why you really invited me here.” Celestia sipped her tea, smacking her lips in a dainty, royal-like fashion. “Although the tea was unexpected, but pleasant.”

“I prefer coffee myself. Good ol’ fashioned American drink. Tea tastes too damn herbal.” Nixon pushed his tea cup to the side and quickly wiped the beads of sweat off his head. This only proved to throw some waterballoons on the inferno, for bullets of sweat were already firing from his pores. “I just thought it’d make the image look good. Two leaders sitting down for tea. Much more mundane than, say—”

“A behind the table agreement for Equestrian and American to ratify future treaties to prevent the further spread of communism and use Equestria as a buffer zone between you and the—how you say—Ruskies?”

Celestia sipped her tea.

Nixon was perspiring more than a weak-willed vegan in a gay club. “I must admit, you’re sharper than you look.”

Celestia smiled, her grin about as genuine as the request for tea. “It’s probably the horn.”

“Well, if you didn’t already know, it is vital as President for me to establish a winning image. Vietnam, those damn hippies, that one nasty incident with that hotel that had the bad room service…” Nixon sighed, shoulders hunched over like the weight of an entire nation rested on them—a nation composed entirely of jackasses, in one way or the other. “I don’t have that image anymore.”

“So this is basically an attempt to save face for your past lies and deceit by throwing together a half-baked plan to get me to agree to some bogus deal to be America’s little shield to those soulless, godless communists?” Celestia snorted. “How dumb do you truly believe I am?”

Nixon opened his mouth.

“That was a rhetorical question.”

“I knew that.”

Celestia sipped her tea rather than answer.

Nixon loosened his tie, which was starting to feel like a noose of incriminating criminal evidence slowly choking him into political ruin.

“Listen, I never lied. I just said some things that later turned out to be untrue. Complete misunderstanding, you see.” Nixon scratched the tip of his bulbous nose, Celestia glaring at him with squinted eyes. “I was under medication at the time, you see.”

Celestia got up from her seat. “I think we’re done here.”

“I’m not a crook!” Nixon yelled at Celestia and she made a hasty retreat from the Oval Office. “I earned everything I got! Earned it, you hear me!”

Nixon slumped in his seat with a sigh. Resting his head on the cushion of the couch, Nixon pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Goddamnit… well, there goes plan number one.”

Getting up from his seat, Nixon approached his desk. He walked past the red phone perched at the edge of his desk and instead picked up the rainbow one on the other side. “Yes, hello, this is President Nixon,” he said in the receiver, smiling his little weasley smirk. “I’d like to offer an invitation for tea at the White House at your nearest convenience.”

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