William Barr: Well, I talked to the pool guy. It turns out the president did not shit in your jacuzzi.

Homeowner: Wow, really? Okay, I guess. But it sure smells like shit and the water is brown. And the drain is clogged. No one wants to come over anymore. Not that I don’t believe you, but can I talk to the pool guy myself? It’s just that the jacuzzi was fine before the president and his friends got in.

Barr: Hmmm… no, I’d rather you not. Come now, let’s stop being silly. The president didn’t shit in your jacuzzi. It’s clearly a misunderstanding. In fact, maybe you owe the president an apology for all of that stuff you said. All those mean things about him, you know… shitting in your jacuzzi.

Homeowner looks out his window. Flies buzz over his stagnant jacuzzi. A turd floats to the surface.

Homeowner: I don’t know, man. He and his pals were the only ones in there. Someone shit in that thing.

Barr (sighing heavily): Ughh.… you’re breaking my balls here. Okay, fine – why don’t I call the pool guy personally and I can just tell you what he’s saying to me on the phone?

Homeowner: I mean, that sounds like a terrible way to handle it…

Barr: HEY FUCKFACE – I’ve got places to be. I don’t even have to call the pool guy at all, understand? I told you no one shit in your jacuzzi so just like… you know… let it go and stuff.

Homeowner: Fine, fine. Just call him. But it’s my jacuzzi, man, I care a lot about that thing. And it’s filled with shit now. Can you at least put the pool guy on speaker?

Barr: Put him on speaker? No way, that’s classifi- oh – Gary, is that you? Hey! Barr here. So listen, this guy still thinks the president shit in his jacuzzi. Yeah. Uh uh. I know, right? Okay, so I’m just going to ask you again so I can tell him one last time: did the president shit in his jacuzzi?

Five minutes of talking go by on the other end of the line. Growing annoyed, Homeowner grabs the phone out of Barr’s hand and puts it on speaker.

Gary the Pool Guy: “… I mean yes, it’s filled with shit. Gallons of shit. Enough shit that I’ve reported several of the president's jacuzzi buddies for pooping their pants. These guys must have been on some kind of fast food kick because seriously, I think I saw literal chunks of a burrito supreme with sourcream and –“

Homeowner: Are you fucking kidding me? It IS shit?! Those guys shit in my jacuzzi? The president of the United States came to my house and shit in my jacuzzi?

Gary the Pool Guy: Well… it’s complicated. Okay, sir, listen: there were a lot of guys in that hot tub. Based on my findings in the water, all of them were clearly at some sort of B rated buffet earlier in the day. This much I know. Now, can I say that the president, acting alone, took a fat dump in your jacuzzi? Sir… I cannot. There was just too much poop to tell. But what I can say is this: the president got in a hot tub with all of his best friends, and those boys produced enough stool to furnish a 100-meter bar. Your jacuzzi filter is going to need to be changed.

Homeowner: Fine, but you don’t know if the president pooped or not?

Gary the Pool Guy: Sadly, no. I cannot prove that the president himself shit in your jacuzzi. But I cannot exonerate him from pooping, either. All I know is that he sat in a tub full of human feces and played in a muddy splash-fight with his friends for several hours. If a man is willing to do that, what’s to stop him from shitting his own pants? Look, he may well have pooped in your jacuzzi, but with all that fetid, brown muck… it’s too hard to tell. It’s just so gross, sir, you understand.

Homeowner: Well, what do I do now?

Gary the Pool Guy: It’s hard to say. But if it were my jacuzzi? I’d never have this man or his friends over for another pool party.

Barr grabs the phone back and hangs up.

Barr: See, idiot, I told you the president didn’t poop in the jacuzzi.

Homeowner: Get out of my house.