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"What an incredible honor it is to lead the Department of Health and Human Services at this pivotal time under your leadership," said Tom Price. He continued, "The president's digestive emissions may be the healthiest I have ever heard. They start off strong, and continue with a stalwart resilience. The privilege, the very privilege of smelling them ..." Price had to pause, removing his glasses to wipe a tear from his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just ... I've never been so humbled. This is truly the greatest day of my life."

CIA Director Mike Pompeo inhaled briskly, pursing his lips. "Mr. President, it's an honor ... no, a privilege ... no, sorry. (Stupid! Stupid Mike! Stupid!) It's an incredible privilege to serve you and smell your farts. The way they waft in the updraft, like beautiful phantasms, tendrils flowing into my nose like a lover's kiss. I've never felt this way before, and I have an erection."

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Ben Carson's head lolled to the side. An aide quickly increased the voltage running to the alligator clamps on his nipples, rousing him to consciousness. "What? Yes. Hello, Mr. President. Yeah. Here I am. It's been a great honor to work with- ugh, what's that smell? Smells like a possum died in- Is that- Oh, that's your fart, Mr. President? Mmm, yum, your farts smell so good." President Trump issued a snort, grunting brusquely, "I know." He made a subtle hand motion, and the aide shut off the power to Ben Carson's nipples, rendering him inert.

Mr. Jefferson Beauregard Sessions emerged from a tree stump. His eyes twinkled like stars. "I've a little ditty, a lovely little ditty to sing." He jumped up on the desk and started a lively jig. "Of a pres-i-dent brave and his farts that did ring." His cheeks were rosy as he jumped and skipped and capered around. "The most wonderful farts in all the land, the most delectable farts, now give him a hand, this pres-i-dent bold and true, and the land that he ruled and the farts that he blew!" He bowed with a flourish, and disappeared back into his stump.