The President, his jet-black hair slicked back, his mustache well-trimmed, sat behind a desk, fingers tightly interlaced. He stared at them for several seconds before beginning, “What you are about to see will upset you,” in a brisk Texas twang. “It will terrify you. It may make you cry, or puke. But you kids are old enough to know the truth.”
The President stopped, stared. As the viz faded to black, his right cheek spasmed.
From Go, Mutants, p. 77