Prompt: A case of mistaken identity

"Sir, they've declared war!" yelled Lance, bursting into the oval office.

"Who?!" Shouted the President, springing up from his chair.

The presidents' aid looked down at his clipboard for a moment.

"Uh, Korea."

"North or South?"

"Which one do you think?!" Lance shouted.

"I'm sorry Sam, but you do realize that this is a big deal."

"It's Lance, sir, and yes sir, I know. I'm sorry for losing my composure."

The room grew still and silent. Lance smoothed his thin mustache.

The president wiped a bead of sweat trickling down his face, and took his seat again. Finally poised and ready to handle the situation, he took a swig of scotch from the sweaty lowball glass on his desk. Next to his mistress, he could always count on that glass to be at his side.

"Well, it's not like we haven't seen this coming. How urgent is the situation?"

"Well sir, " said Lance, trying to swallow past a lump in his throat, "The Air Force has confirmed fighters approaching Washington as we speak, and -"

"Holy Moley! We've got to do something now! Scramble fighters to cover the coastline!"

"They're already on their way, sir."

"Good. I want you to alert the cabinet that I'm envoking an executive decision and making a retaliatory response as of this moment."

"Sir, surely your aren't going to..."

Lance voice trailed off as the President lifted a stack of files off of a polished wood box with the presidential seal embossed on the front. He rubbed his chin for a moment, staring at it, and then lifted the cover. Poking out of a bed of blue velvet lie a large red button and a rotary dial. The President leaned in and scrunched his nose, examining a small plaque next to the dial.

"Get me my glasses and another scotch, won't you Sam? I can't read this."

"Of course, sir. And my name is Lance, sir." Said Lance, rushing to the wet bar.

The President, finding an odd ability to take pleasure from the moment, leaned back in his chair and lit a cigar. He put his feet up on the desk as he watched Lance scurry about the room looking for his glasses.

"You know Sam, there's a promotion in this for ya," he said through teeth clenching to keep the cigar in place.

"It's Lance, sir. Thank you, sir. Ah! Here we are," said Lance, relieved to have found the President's glasses.

"Thanks, Sam. Now, let's see here..."

The President unfolded his specs and put them on. Again, his nose scrunched as he leaned forward to examine the plaque next to the rotary dial. He read aloud:

"It says here to 'Turn dial to indicate enemy. Press button to fire missiles.' Seems simple enough."

The President slowly clasped his fingers around the center of the knob. He made eye contact with Lance before returning his gaze to the knob and turned the dial until the display read: NORTH KOREA.

As the President reached for the button, lance stepped forward and raised an arm towards him.

"What is it Sam?"

"Lance, sir. Um, I just thought you might want to say something very thoughtful and maudlin before firing the missiles."

"Something for the history books, huh? I think I can manage that. You must be looking to be an admiral or something," he said leaning back in his chair again and tossing a wink towards his aide.

"Let's see, let's see. Um, how about "On this day, I send some missiles to Korea?' That's good enough."

As Lance stepped forward to encourage something more poetic, the President rose quickly from his chair and saluted Lance.

"On this day," he began to shout "I send some missiles to Korea!"

With his saluting hand slapped the red button as if he were delivering a low-five. A cacophony of shouts and sirens sounded outside the doors to the office. Red flashing lights on motors descended from the ceiling as all other lights extinguished themselves.

"That's it, Sam. North Korea will be no more. Now, moving on to the next line of business: I want to assure that all suspected North Korean agents in the US are brought in for interrogation."

"Lance, sir, " began Lance, glancing down at his clipboard, "and, the uh NSA has already -"

He stumbled in his thoughts. Something on his clipboard drew his attention.

"Well Lance, what is it?"

"Sir, how acurate are those missiles?" Asked Lance, staring at his clipboard as if he could change what it reads just by looking at it intensely.

"Why should I know? Does it help if I know that they have lasers in them?"

"I'm not sure," said Lance, "but let's just hope they miss by a LOT or get blown off course by a storm or something."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"Sir, my name is SAM. S-A-M. My name is undeniably SAM and I," Lance swallowed to help his dry throat to deliver the rest of the news. "I uh, accidentally told you to fire on North Korea instead of China."