It was a typical bustling day in Washington, D.C., as the sun rose over the White House, casting golden rays on its iconic façade. Inside, President Donald Trump was preparing for the arrival of a very special guest: Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who would be accompanied by his wife, Sarah. As always, anticipation filled the air—both for political discussions and the notorious baggage that followed them.
The doors swung open, and with a flourish, the Netanyahus stepped inside, greeting staff with warm smiles. But it wasn't just their presence that was felt; two porters trudged behind them, struggling under the weight of five large suitcases stacked high. The unmistakable sight of the Netanyahus' usual hefty cargo caused a flurry of looks exchanged among White House staff.
“Welcome, welcome!” Trump exclaimed, his trademark grin shining like a beacon. “I hope you had a pleasant flight!”
“Always a pleasure, Mr. President!” Netanyahu replied with a wink. But it was Sarah who quickly interjected, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And we’ve brought our little contribution to the stay—our laundry!”
The room erupted with laughter, and Trump chuckled heartily. “Of course! I’ll personally make sure it’s done perfectly. Nobody cleans laundry like I do,” he declared, puffing out his chest a bit, as the porters unloaded the suitcases.
“After you wash our clothes, they always smell so much better,” Sarah remarked sweetly, her tone teasing. Netanyahu chuckled along, the camaraderie evident in their banter, as Trump beamed like a proud host.
With a wave of his hand, Trump summoned the suitcases to be brought to the basement laundry room, insisting on handling the task himself. “No need for anyone else,” he insisted. “I’ll get this done right!”
As he dragged the first suitcase down the polished corridors of the White House, he was met by a curious maid who raised an eyebrow. “Mr. President, why do you do this yourself? Isn’t it a bit unreasonable?”
Trump, never one to shy away from a performance, broke into an impromptu song, his voice echoing off the basement walls:
🎵 "I am the greatest hotel king, perhaps ever, you see,
The White House is my resort, it’s where I want to be.
I’ll do anything so my guests have the very greatest night,
Because the customer - we like to say - is ever and always right!" 🎵
He twirled dramatically, throwing his arms wide. “And if they need some laundry done, well, that’s what I’ll deliver; In this building full of history, it’s where I’m quite the giver!”
The maid couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity and glee of the moment breaking through her routine. The President continued his lyrical celebration of hospitality as he opened the first suitcase, revealing a jumble of brightly colored clothes.
“Let’s see what we have here!” he said enthusiastically, pulling out a bright blue shirt. “This will be a breeze! A little spin, a little wash—this is going to be the best laundry service they’ve ever seen!”
As he loaded the washing machine and watched it begin its whirl, he took a moment to admire the White House, the opulence and charm reminding him that he was indeed the host of a prestigious stay. Each spin of the machine felt like a promise—an assurance that every guest who entered this historic residence would leave with their expectations met, if not exceeded.
Meanwhile, upstairs in the East Room, Netanyahu turned to Sarah with a playful grin. “Can you believe he actually wants to do that himself? Maybe we should pack even more next time!”
Sarah laughed, “Oh, I think five suitcases is quite enough. Besides, if Trump enjoys washing and spinning our dirty laundry, who are we to stop him?”