Meanwhile One Timeline Away… in a universe not very far away… an obese President Donald Trump, one very much like our own, living on a parallel Earth, very much like our own, lays intubated, deep in a Covid coma October 2, 2020.
Steve Bannon paces the White House presidential bedroom that’s been converted into a hospital room for the unconscious lump of Trump. Running his stubby hands through his unruly mop of salt and pepper hair, Bannon stops pacing to stare in disbelief and despair at his pal Trump through the clear plastic wall that separates them.
Losing her small amount of patience Ivanka says, “Well, Will you do it, Steve?”
Bannon hesitates for long beat before answering coyly, “I need time, Ivanka. He’s in a damn coma. How am I supposed to run a campaign with him un-fucking-conscious?”
Jared chuckles offering, “Ever seen WEEKEND AT BERNIE’S?”
“No.” say Bannon and Ivanka in unison.
“You guys are no fun,” says Jared, sounding high as a kite on something.
“I’VE GOT IT!” shouts Bannon, frightening Robert, Trump’s Black aid, who is replenishing Trump’s IV bag. It falls to the floor and bursts on the makeshift tile.
“Quiet. Respect for my father-in-law,” scowls Jared.
“Respect from the WEEKEND AT BERNIE’S guy? A movie where Bernie is dead and some freeloaders use Bernie’s corpse to stretch out their free ride?” says Bannon sternly.
“You said you hadn’t seen it,” says Jared sheepishly.
“I lied to save you the embarrassment in front of the President’s wife.”
“Don’t you mean daughter?” says Ivanka.
Bannon remains smugly silent.
Robert slips on the fluid spill and falls to the floor, sending a tray of instruments flying. A flying scalpel impales Trump’s forearm but the trio of plotters are so engrossed they miss Trump’s impalement.
“So what do you have, or got, Steve?” asks Ivanka.
“And please don’t say Covid,” half-jokes Jared.
“Overdoing the Zoetis again, darling?” ask Ivanka, her cheeks flush with anger.
“Knock off the jokes. My father’s, and our, political futures hang in the balance. Go ahead, Steve. We’re all ears,” says Ivanka, oozing sex appeal to get her way by pinching Bannon’s ugly cheek.
Bannon swats Ivanka’s cheek tweak away, distracted as he watches Robert bandage a blood spurt where Robert pulls out the flying scalpel. Bannon takes a long breath and grunts, “Either of you familiar with deep fake videos?”
“We sure as hell are. A porn deep fake of me fucking a donkey while Ivanka rubs her ample breasts in the donkey’s happy face has 10 million views and counting,” crows Jared.
“Ew. Disgusting,” says Ivanka.
“Well, minus the donkey, and Ivanka’s ample breasts, all we need to do is get a gvoice actor with the same build as Donald.”
“Why would people want to see a video of Donald fucking a donkey?” ask Jared incredulously.
“Silly, the donkey is the mascot for the Dems, ” says Ivanka, proud of her political acumen.
“Guys! Enough with the donkey shit. We do this legit. An impassioned speech from his sick bed. We make a deep fake video of your father coming out of his coma to rouse to the base with a red meat attack on the old fuck Biden,” offers Bannon.
“Genius! I’ll never know why Daddy fired you,” says Ivanka, kissing Steve on the cheek.
“Wasn’t fired. I quit, ” brags Bannon.
“Ha. And Nancy Pelosi is really Q, ” jokes Jared.
Ivanka gives Jared a shot in the arm as she says, “Zip it. Go on, Steve.
“The Q balls love the sexual dirt. So in his deep fake speech let’s have Donald’s double accuse Biden of having a S&M with Kamala,” Bannon says dryly cracking Jared and Ivanka up.
Ivanka hugs Bannon so hard and he get a little boner and tries to hide it with a Wall Stree Journal.
Jared jealously look on and says, “The security risks are enormous. Where can we find a Trump imitator we can trust?”
“Simple. We just use them for the deep fake and then kill them!” cheerfully offers Ivanka.
Bannon pulls out his cell phone and dials, “No, no. We need to keep the imposter alive long ’cause we need more than one Trump deep fake video. And I know just the man to help us.!” Bannon diala V for victory and waits. “Vlad?”
“Steven, we speak alone?” says Putin on Bannon’s cell phone speaker.
“Uh, yeah.” says Bannon motioning for Ivanka and Jared to keep quiet. “Remember that double guy we were going to murder in Donald’s place, if Donny boy would have been impeached, then smuggle Donnie boy out into Mother Russia for amnesty?”
“Da.” says Putin warily.
24 hours later…
A naked Yuri Yakov, who could easily stunt double for Trump, slips into a hospital gown with the seal of the president printed on it’s chest. Yuri says to the nervous looking Bannon, “Relax, Commrade Bannon. –”
“Call me, Steve please.”
“How about Steverino?” says Yuri .
“When we go live?”
“Never. This shit is taped so I can add in the deep fake in later. Doing the damn edit myself.”
“Relax, bro. Can’t be too hard to make a deep fake if kids on the internet are making these damned things. Haha! I love the one where Bill Hader turns in to Tom Cruise. ”
“Just, Steve! Cut the chi chat, Yuri, and study your fucking lines!”
“Comrade — Ah Steve, why so tense, my brother in this deepest of deep fakes?”
“Melania’s due back tonight,” Bannon says checking his watch.
Meanwhile at the grand stairway…
An exhausted Melania slumps her way up the stairway to the presidential residential quarters. She’s spotted by a shocked Ivanka and Jared, standing guard for Bannon.
“Mamma! You’re home 7 hours ahead of schedule. How nice!” shouts Jared rushing down the stairs to intercept Melania.
“Jared, you have never called me Mamma before. What is wrong?! Donald dead?!”
“No, no. Of course not. But he’s in no shape for visitors now.” says Ivanka nervously.
“Fine. I need a bath. Bad weather. My flight was as exhausting one of Donald’s accursed rallies or protests or whatever he’s calling them to lure these fools to the deaths. Such stupid people Trumpies.”
“Let me treat you to coffee there, Melania!” says Jared yanking Melania down the hallway.”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“Why are you keeping me from my bedroom, Jared?”
Jared panics into silence but Ivanka takes over. “Redecorating! They are redecorating your bedroom, Melania, and it won’t be done for several hours. Oh it’s going to be beautiful!”
“You’re going to love it, Mama!” shouts Jared.
“Fuck off the both of you! Decorating of the White House is my department!” Melania storms past Jared and Ivanka up the stairs. They shrug to each other, not knowing what to do.
Meanwhile on the set that’s been built in Melania’s First Lady bu dour…
Yuri is doing a very convincing voice imitation of Trump, “Q is saying Kamala first dines on babies before bull whipping a naked Biden –”
Bannon shouts, “Cut!”
“Ghost of Khrushchev! What was wrong with that one, Comra — Steve?” sobs Yuri.
“Be stronger. Trump may not be bright but he’s an amazing leader,” says Bannon, getting up in Yuri’s face.
“Agree with you… on the not bright part. Haha.”
“I don’t need your fucking opinion. I need a stronger Trump!”
“Before I do take 20 here, answer me a question, or no more takes.” coyly offers Yuri,
“I noticed, Steve, you were fired on — ”
“Quit not fired.”
“OK, so you quit August 2017 and then, presto, October 2017, Q makes their first post on the web.”
Bannon sighs in frustration.
“And then there are clues in your name.”
“I know how to spell my fucking name!”
“Replace the B in your name with a Q and you have QAnnon!”offers Yuri, immensely pleased with his conspiracy theory.
“QAnon is spelled with two Ns after the A, not three, Cocka.”
“There’s no need to call me a dummy in my mother tongue!”
Bannon pulls a gun and shouts at the trembling Yuri, “The script! Stronger! Action!”
Melania burst into her bedroom and Bannon spins to see who has barged in and his pistol accidentally goes off. BANG!
A rapidly spreading dot of blood appears over Melani’s heart on her pristine white dress.
Melania softly says, “Tell Donald I love him.” and then she falls to Steve’s feet.
Steve takes Melania’s pulse, “Oh fuck. She’s as dead as Trump’s brother Robert!” croaks Bannon.
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 8 – TRUMPTOPIA
A big thanks once again to my talented wife Elizabeth England for playing all the female parts in this 2021 reading.
As always my handy disclaimer that this story is of course a work of pure fiction about an alternate universe. It is in no way a true reflection of the kind and compassionate real-life Donald J Trump, and his charming GOP enablers or the supposed good guys in this dark comedic tale.
Whoa! Alternate reality President Arnold Schwarzenegger is here and wants a word with you!
Listen up, America! My good friend Ken Sheetz is busting his flabby ass to bring you laughs and wild adventures, in a time of sorrow; to show you just how fucked up your world can be if you don’t defeat your Trump once and for all, along with all the lying losers in the GQP! Donate at the link below for the coolest in stories and meditations, you cheap bastards!
Welcome to my Covid writing therapy project. Hope you’ve read/listened chapter 1-5. Chapter 6 audio when I can find the time.
It’s weird, – and what isn’t these Covid days ? – but have you ever noticed how many things written as fiction actually come to pass? For example the 2000 Motorola flip phone was first imagined by Gene Rodenberry for the 1966 premiere of STAR TREK.
Since April I’ve been developing TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM and, sure enough, some parts of the story are really coming to pass. Ultimately, I predict will Trump eventually contract Covid-19, as in the premise of this strange tale, one that would be a comedy were the real life tragedy of Trump’s erratic mismanagement not so sad and dangerous.
Not that I’d ever wish such an ill event on our wannbe king, but we can dream can’t we that his catching the virus, not likely as he has the testing we all dream of, might awaken his long lost conscience? Indeed, anything is possible in a world where Trump fans, gathered in the middle of a pandemic, cheer a drink of water.
CHAPTER 6 – Mt. Rushmore and the Bunker Rebels
Dr. Faucci makes a deep incision in Trump’s throat . Blood trickles, crossing the orange tan line where Trump’s bloated chest meets his saggy neck.
Faucci says, “OK, I’ve successfully made the incision to avoid the President’s damaged throat tissue from his drinking bleach. Now you make the insertion of the ventilator tube, Dr. Edwards.” Dr. Edwards takes over the operation,
Ivanka, sporting the latest Paris fashion Covid mask, rises to her feet along with the mask wearing Jared when Dr. Faucci exits the surgery room. She asks nervously, “Doctor, is my Daddy going to pull through?”
Dr. Faucci sighs deeply and wipes sweat from his forehead, “A tracheotomy is an relatively easy procedure. My real concern is that your father hid his catching virus for too long.”
“That’s no answer, Tony!” blurts Jared, his normally high pitched feeble voice nearly inaudible beneath his red, white and blue mask.
Dr. Faucci ignores Jared and addresses Ivanka, “Your father’s odds of a recovery are quite low. And if he does ever recover, he may be in a shape where can no longer serve as president.”
Ivanka spins to sob on Jared’s tiny chest.
In the adjacent operating room, dead to the real world, Trump does not stir on the operating table as Dr. Edwards inserts the air tube in Faucci’s tracheotomy incision. The operating room fades from view as the White House Bunker fades into view…
Nestled safely in his bunker, the real world a forgotten memory, Trump does his best presidential poker face as his advisors wrangle with a new series of more violent protests.
Larry Kudlow gasps as on the big screen array of BLM protestors use a stolen city bus to flatten the White House fence. The angry mob charges the heavily armed Secret Service Agents.
Barr says, “Relax, Larry. Our secret troops learned in Portland how to put these dogs to sleep.”
“Relax? This is revolution! And we all know what happens to the player in an old regime, especially one as cruel as ours,” croaks Larry.
Trump laughs at Larry and says, “Chill, Larry. Theses walls of this vault are 6 feet thick, or something like that kinda thickness. Tremendously thick walls. And we have all the comforts of home here. The best champagne. The best caviar. Bobby’s secret service troops are handpicked for their –”
On screen the Federal Troops lay down their weapons and the angry mob races past them.
“What in Holy Hell?” shouts Trump, cracking one of TV screens with his tiny fists.
The Director of the Secretive Service, James Murray, calmly says to the gasping Trump, “Not to worry, sir. Like you just said, in your genius way, the rioters cannot possibly reach us down here.”
“Right. The lowlifes have zero chance, sir!” shouts Miller, almost making a Nazi salute, which he fakes into a stretch.
“Let’s get back to talking about my new fantastic Mt. Rushmore monument to the greatest presidency ever! Mine!” says Trump imperiously. “Tell me about getting head, Kayleigh.”
The men all laugh at Trump’s sexist joke, while Kayleigh does her best to hide her disgust She rolls a model of Mt Rushmore into the bunker conference room. “Mr. President, I afraid the Rushmore survey ream has determined that there is not enough structural integrity to the surrounding rock to add an your incredible face.”
“I am not happy about this, Kayleigh!” grumps Trump, folding his arms across his big belly.
“It’s OK, Mr. President. We have a solution…” Kayleigh loses her train of thought as on the big screen a mass of militant protestors take baseball bats to the badly outnumbered Federal troops. Many protestors fall and die under heavy gunfire from the troops, but an endless stream bat and machete wielding protestors take their place in the bloody battle for the White House.
“Go on Kayleigh. Don’t worry about the losers up there. Nigger scum.” snarls Steve Miller.
“The losers can’t reach us. Go on, Kayleigh. Give me some head!” chuckles Trump.
Mastering her outrage Kayleigh says, “Well, it’s simple. All we have to do is re-chisel one of the four heads into your amazing image, sir. All that remains is for you to pick who you want to replace. Who shall it be, Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt or Lincoln, sir?”
Trump relishes at this historic decision making moment, spinning around and around in his larger than anyone else’s leather chair, and finally decreeing,”Q-Anon calls me the greatest civil rights leader of all time. Lowest unemployment for blacks ever, before the Covid started killing them off like flies, so I pick to replace the head of Abraham Lincoln be replaced by my very own much more handsome face. My base will love it and my haters can eat shit and die.”
Barr offers obsequiously, “Brilliant choice as always, sir! It’s true you have supplanted Lincoln in the hearts of the people after all!”
The gathering of white men plus one frustrated woman in Kayleigh give Trump a standing ovation.
For a split-second Trump is back in the real world as surgical team tech turns the breathing machine on. Trump heartbeat stops on the monitor. Dr. Fauci takes up shock paddles and shouts, “Clear!”
Shocked back into his bunker fever dream Trump point at the security monitor and bellows, “What?! The niggers are in my Oval offices!”
Trump and his team watch helplessly as security TV screen shows a rush of protestors of all races and creeds swarm into the Oval Office
Trump demands, “Murray, set off the self-destrust bomb and blow the fucking Antifa anarchists off the face of the earth!”
Murray pleadingly turns to Barr who coldly nods for him to carry out Trump’s command. “You heard the president.”
Turning to the monitors, where the Resolute Desk is set aflame, Murray anguishes and finally croaks, “I respectfully decline to carry out your orders to blow up the protestors, sir. You have my resignation.”
Trump spins to Defense Secretary Esper and roars, “Esper, wipe out these fucking terrorists!”
“These are American citizen’s, Mr. President. I respectfully refuse and resign as well,”
“Where are our Portland shock and awe troops?!”shouts Miller
“In transit to Milwaukee,” answers Barr.
“Well, get them here it DC pronto! Seen this Tweet?” says Trump, jamming a cell phone in Barr’s saggy fat face.
The gaggle white men crowd around Trump’s cell phone that reads:
“Lynch the #BunkerBaby!
“The bastards are still calling me BunkerBaby again, even after I crushed them in Lafayette Square!”
“Um, sir, my mom taught me sticks and stones may break –”
“Shut the fuck up! Sageant Cosco, escort these traitor my bunker!”
“Name’s Rosco. Mr. President, and I am afraid Mr. Esper and Mr. Murray cannot leave as we’re sealed in.”
“Look, COSCO. No one’s in the hallway!” shouts Trump.
“Now. But, sir the 2 ton door operates slowly by the time we see rioters we could –”
“Break the seal!” demands Trump.
“– be fucked.” finishes Sergeant Rosco feebly. “I will remind the president that there is angry mob right outside the vault door! Open it and you could kills us all.”
Trump defiantly pushes the open button and gloats, “Fuck off. Want something done right you, um, something something. ”
Miller takes charge, “Seargent Rosco remove, Mr. Esper and Mr. Murray from my bunker or you’re facing a firing squad for disobeying your commander and chief!”
Trump beams and he proclaims ,“All clear! As Winston, uh, Church-something, the Brit guy, once said we have nothing to fear but, ah, fuck it –”
Gunfire erupts as mob of rioters race up the long hall for the open bunker door.
“Seal the bunker! Protect the presi –” Sergeant Rosco falls to the marble floor, bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
Kayliegh shouts to the mob, “Power to the people. I am not with the dictator sexist, racist Trump anymore!”
The protestors get such a kick out of Trump’s sad reaction to Kayleigh’s betrayal they let her slip away.
An angry Black man races up to a screaming Trump and raises a bloody hatchet.
Trump begs on his knees, “Black lives matter! Praise Jesus! Black live matter! Spare me and I’ll sign any law you want!”
Trump curls in a ball and weeps like a baby sucking his thumbs, eyes slammed shut waiting for a death blow.
The angry black man laughs saying, “Pathetic!” as he plant the axe in Trump’s orange head. Blood gushes and all goes black. Faintly the beep of a life monitor gets louder and Trump’s eyes flicker open.
Thrilled to be back in the real world where he on life support, Trump peeps open his eyes to see his loyal personal Black attendant Robert reading the newspaper beside his hospital bed. Trumps bloodshot feverish eyes close.
We see the Robert’s Washington Post’s headline reads:
Over my 24 years as a filmmaker and screenwriter writer of modest notoriety — see the About Me and My Films to learn more me and my stuff of dreams — I have come to see there are basically two kinds of storytellers; those who plan it all out with detailed outlines and notes cards and those, like me, who write organically, allowing the story to evolve and grow as we write. Who can say which one is better?
All I know is I love being an organic storyteller, especially in the case of Trump, because it allows me to channel the weird news of the day into story. Like Trump’s suggesting ingesting bleach as a Covid treatment this week.
And Sean Spicer on Dancing with the Stars?
We now join….
CHAPTER 4 – DANCING WITH SPICER & SCHWARZENEGGER
Meanwhile, one timeline away… Trump has caught Covid-19 and is trapped in a series of ever more delirious fever dreams, just as we all are on this timeline.
Trump’s Black body man, Robert Tulsa, runs back into the Presidential bedroom where President Trump has collapsed of Covid. He stops dead in his tracks shocked to see Trump strangling on a bed sheet twisted around his neck.
Robert hesitates rescuing the choking Trump. “Lord Jesus guide me on what to do,” prays Robert.
We enter his right eye, travel down Trump’s optic nerve, and enter his Adderall befuddled mind…
Trump’s twisted view of the deranged Hilary Clinton, strangling him in the White Hospital, in the Covid devastated future of 2022, where the death count has reached 3 million lost Americans, fades into the darkness of death.
Off in the distance, a small yellow speck sparkles in the distance.
Trump looks down at himself, happy to see he’s out of his paper hospital gown of his last fever dream and spiffed up in his favorite blue power suit, complete with his clownishly long red tie. He surprised to see he’s wearing shinny red vinyl dancing shoes that match his hilarious orange afro.
The bouncing yellow speck grows in size to form a Marimba dancer, complete with Carmen Miranda’s famed fruit hat. The dancer rockets up to Trump, who is stunned to see the dancer is none other than Sean Spicer… in Marimba drag!
Sean sweeps Trump into a passionate dance. Trump laughs and says, “Learned a few things on Dancing With the Stars, Spicey, I see.”
“Touche!” shouts Spicer, spinning Trump like a rolly-polly punching doll.
“Enough!” growls Trump. A crowd of thousands of red hatted MAGA rally goers cheer wildly. Trump does a bow and the crowd goes absolutely ape shit. Spicer gracefully takes Trump back into the dance.
“Welcome back, sir. Oh, look who we have for dance judges!” sings Sean.
Trump notices the dance judges are none other than the nine members of the Supreme Court. Bret Kavenugh sneaks a swig of beer and flashes Trump a thumbs up. While Ruth Bader Ginsberg blows a raspberry.
Trump grouses, “Fuck this. I will not dance for the likes of Ruth Libtard Ginsberg.”
Trump struggles free himself of the dancing Spicer, but the smaller man is supernaturally strong.
“Let’s Marimba!” sings Sean. He yanks Trump by his long red tie down to his eye level and whisper sings in Trump’s ear, “You don’t understand, sir. Sing and dance or the judges will give you a death sentence.”
“Death sentence?!” says Trump.
“Afraid a lot has changed since you vanished two years ago, sir. Dance like your life depends on it. Because it does!”
Across the shinny black stage for the Fox & Friends team provide color commentary as the crowd of Trump fans continue to adore their returned king.
“Good evening, America! 5,000 plus Trump fans are here tonight at the Miami’s Hard Rock Sports Stadium to welcome back the great President Donald Trump!” says Doocy with a big silly grin to the Fox cameras.
The cheering crowd waves Trump 2024 flags and shout “Welcome back, President Trump!”
“Lots of GOP VIPs here tonight too,” adds Kilmead. The cameras point to Senator Ted Cruz, Governor Christi Noem, and the usual GQP suspects.
“Oh my God, Trump is an amazing dancer and his new hair style is revolutionary.” says Ainsley giggling about Trump’s orange afro.
“Any minute now we expect President Schwarzenegger to arrive. But here comes Vice President Chris Christie. A word Chris?” says Ducey.
“Sure,” says Chris as he signs an autograph from a sweet old woman with a MAGA hat. “What’s your name, hon?”
“Mindy!” chirps the sweet old lady. Veep Christie signs with a flourish, collects a smooch and turns to Doocy.
“How does President Schwarzenegger feel about the mysterious return of President Trump?” says Doocy.
“Well, after President Trump was declared dead after he vanished two years ago, a lot of Trump’s unfinished work has fallen on Arnold’s big shoulders,” says Vice President Christie.
“Ha ha. Not an answer, Chris.” teases Kilmead.
“With three million dead of Covid, rumors of a new DeSantis variant that’s attacking the white community, now might be a good time for you to drop the smart-ass routine, Kill-mead.”
“Any truth to rumors of a new zombie variant?” says Ainsley batting her eyes flirtatiously.
“Zombie variant? Q shit?” chides a concerned Vice President Christie.
“Hmm. No comment,” demurs Ainsley.
“I’ll close by saying, President Schwarzenegger and I are in total agreement that my old pal Trump has a lot to answer for when it comes to the three million and counting death toll and dangerous new variant that ravaged America until President Schwazenegger stepped in,” says Vice President Christie.
“Are you saying, Mr Vice President, that President Schwazenegger is going to ask the DOJ investigate Trump’s handling of the pandemic?” asks Doocy, hoping for a scoop.
Without answering, Christie slowly turns away from the Fox & Friends trio and strides, whistling, for the VIP box. Mitch McConnell beckons to the VP to a saved seat between himself and a selfie taking Tucker Carlson.
“Swell. I’m stuck between the Russian turtle and and Tucker the fucker,” mutters VP Christie to himself.
Trump yelps as Sean yanks his red tie so hard that he sends Trump spinning like pinball into a giant pinball machine set. Trump — a red, white and blue blur — hits a bumper that lights up:
IMPEACHMENT FARCE – Ding, Ding, Ding!
Trump flies, screaming towards more bumpers that light up in rapid succession as he rolls into and off them.
3 MILLION DEAD OF COVID! – Bong!
WORST PRESIDENT EVER – Bing, Bing, Bong, Bong!
CHEATS ON PREGNANT WIFE WITH A PORN STAR – Dong, Ding!
TAX CHEAT – Wha-Err-Err!
BRIBE-O-RAMA – Cha-ching! Cha-chong!
RELIGIOUS FAKE – Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
BLEACH DRINKER – BOOM! BAM!- GAME OVER!
Bursting from a cloud of smoke, Trump tumbles down the giant pinball machine set and falls on his orange face to the black shinny stage floor. Trump struggles to his two left feet. All to the wild applause of red capped MAGA rally goers.
In the stands, Governor Noem says softly, “His fans still love him.”
“Schwartzengger’s in deep trouble if Trump seeks to be reinstalled.” chuckles Mitch.
Trump sees himself dancing with Sean on the Jumbotron screen, “How the fuck did I end up with a damn orange, afro?” says Trump as he tries to pull off the wig. “Damn it! This clown wig is stuck!”
“Oh, don’t worry, sir. Your new fro is gorgeous,” sings Sean.
A pipsqueak of a zombie usher, with the name tag Jerry, emerges at the top of the stands. Jerry the zombie usher hungrily eyes a burly Hell’s Angels biker and leaps upon his back. Jerry chomps the biker’s tattooed shoulder. The biker yelps and instantly transforms to a fellow zombie. Biker and usher go to bloody work making more zombies.
Clueless to the instant zombie apocalypse racing through the five thousand strong crowd. Trump bows and gloats, “Yeah! I still got it, Spicey!” shouts Trump, beaming a million watt smile in the spotlight to his Trumpies… who are rapidly turning into a zombie horde.
“Look at me! Look at me tap, tap, tap. The best tapper ever. The most super epic tap dancer who ever tapped a tune!” signs the off-key and bad dancer Trump.
In the stands, Sweet old lady Mindy is bitten and transform in the blink of a bloodshot eye into a flesh eating zombie. She hungrily eyes Vice President Chris Christie as he flees the VIP zombies. “Stay aways from me, Tucker. Stay away.!” shouts the terrified Christie. The old lady leaps forty feet into the air and chomps into the screaming Veep’s fat leg.
The applauding crowd of now 90% freshly minted zombie Trumpies still have the love of Trump in their eyes.
“We love Trump! We love Trump!” says the zombie horde as one.
Sean panics and yanks Trump back into the Marimba and whisper sings, “The judges hate your tap dancing!”
“Well, I didn’t pick Brett and Neil for their good taste.”
“But the crowd… something seems terribly wrong.” .
“You worry to much, Spicer. Remember how you gave yourself an goddamn ulcer when I told you, ‘Tell the presser that my inauguration crowd was the largest ever?'” laughs Trump.
Trump and Spicey quick-turn away from the crowd an instant before a wave of biting and grotesque zombie transformations races through the audience stands behind them.
“Oh no! Look at Moscow Mitch! He’s zombie!”
“Relax. Mitch always looks like a fucking zombie,” pants Trump.
The curtains part and none other President Arnold Schwarzenegger struts onto the stage, a bevy of beauties on each arm and says warmly, “Donald, it’s so good to see you. I can’t believe what a good tap dancer you are! I’m sorry the judges don’t like it. I thought it was awesome, man.”
“So you think president now, huh?” grouses Trump.
“Oh, Donald, you’re always so funny.
Two high-fiving Trump zombies leap iknock each others arms off.
“But you weren’t born in America. How can you be president?” demands the clueless Trump.
“Because the people needed me, Donald. They needed me after your terrible presidency.”
“Well, I’m back now. Doesn’t that mean I’m president?” angles Trump.
“I’m afraid not, Donald.”
“I’m going to into the audience now, with your wonderful followers. Oh, wait… they’re all zombies.” says Arnold in shock.
Zombie Representative Jim Jordan dives for Arnold. But Arnold swings a folding chair an knocks zombie Jordan’s ugly head off and says, “Wrestle that!”
“You killed my Congressional hatchet man, you mother fucker!”
President Schwarzenegger watches in shock as his bevy of beauties are devoured by Trump zombies and says softly, “We are in great danger. Very quietly we speak.”
“What?” shouts the hard of hearing Trump.
“Quiet, you fool! They’ll hear you!”
“MAGA, MAGA, MAGA, “says a badly decaying Trump Zombie, who looks like she may have once might been South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem.
“Whoa! That you, Kristi?” asks Trump.
“Donald, no!” shouts Arnold, spinning Trump to face him as the zombie Trumpers grow hungrier and more restless.
“Relax, Terminator. These are my fans. Nothing to worry about!” chides Trump. Her biker chic biker’s outfit dripping blood, Noem stalks Trump.
“Donald, Duck!” says Arnold pulling a .357 Magnum.
“Hey! I’m no cartoon –“
“Duck you fool !” shouts Arnold shoving Trump to the floor. Bang! Governor Noem’s head explodes.
Arnold gloats, “Consider this a recall!”
“Swell. There goes my shot at Mt. Rushmore.”
“Oh, you’re going to take the place of Lincoln, huh?” quips Arnold.
“Go to hell! She was a Republican!”
Arnold picks off a zombie that’s come too close. BANG!
“Republican? Donald, they’re a bunch of flesh eating zombies! Your Goddamn handling of the virus caused a mutation!”
“It is what it is,” says Trump with a shrug. “I’m still taking you court where Neil and Brett owed me!”
“Look at the Supreme Court. They’re insane! They got this hive mind! And they’re going to blow us up if we’re not careful!” shouts President Schwarzenegger, taking aim.
As if on cue, laser beams shoot from Gorsuch’s eyes. But the shot at Arnold misses and instead slices Brett Kavenaugh in two. Kavenaugh says, “Ha! Ha! Split decision.” Kavenaugh’s cut in two body comes apart with a sickening slurp.
“Fuck! There goes the conservative majority,” bitches Trump.
“Mr. President, so yummy, yummy,” says a sweet looking female zombie.
“So tasty. Like a big blo0d orange,” says a male zombie in a fuck Hillary T-shirt.
“Oh-oh. Your Trumpies are looking at you like you’re a goddamn Happy meal!” warns Arnold.
“You’re just jealous because my fans love me. They love me!”
“Look, they think you’re delicious!” shouts President Schwarzenegger. BANG!
“Trump can I have a selfie?” says a Proud Boy zombie.
“Sure,” says Trump.
“Are you insane? Run, you goddamn fool!” BANG! Arnold blows the zombie Proud Boy away and yanks Trump into a run.
A zombie that looks like he used to be either Ted Cruz or the Wolverine steps slowly for Trump, “Hamburders. So good. He’s full of hamburders.” Cruz roars as he dives for Trump.
BANG! Arnold blows Cruz’s head off.
“Have a nice cruise.”
“Why you gotta do that?” grouses Trump.
“Make a wisecrack every time you shoot somebody?” pouts Trump.
“It’s my trademark. Get over it Donald!” shouts Arnold.
Arnold’s good shooting frees Ruth Bader Ginsberg from the Supreme Court hive mind. Gorsuch fires another laser blast at Ruth. BANG! Arnold blows Thomas’ head off.
“Guess he’ll never be head of the supreme court.”
“Thanks, you big hunk of hero!” says Ruth blowing a kiss to Aronold as she exits the giant sound stage. But Trump and Arnold are blocked by the hundreds of angry zombie Trumpies.
“Dear God I smell something awful. Wait… Have you pooped your pants, Donald?”
“Stop ordering me around, Schwarzenegger! I’m the real fucking president!” barks Trump just as zombie Mitch McConnell dives, green teeth bared, for Trump’s neck.
“Oh, it’s you, Donald. I must tell you the greatest regret I have of my career is that I was not able to defeat Obamacare for you,” sobs McConnell as he dives for Trump. Blood splatters Donald.
“Now ya did it!” shouts Trump.
“Putin’s gonna be pissed you killed Moscow Mitch!”
“Shut up and move, you out of shape hamburger brain! Now! Now! Now!” shouts President Schwarzenegger, shoving Trump into a maze set of mirrored walls, the Trump zombie horde hot on their heels.
“I had way, way better ratings on The Apprentice than you did, Arnold!” gripes Trump.
“Fuck you, Donald. Go right!” says President Schwarzenegger. But Trump comes to a stubborn stop. ” Go right,I said! You love right don’t you?”
The mindless Trump zombies are lost in the maze, buying the duo a bit of time .
Trump pants and says badly out of breath, “Wow. I’d be more scared if these zombies were black.”
“The Trump variant of the virus only makes White people into zombies, Donald. Thanks a lot.”
“Damn Chinese,” quips Trump.
“Pathetic! I hope some day when you have passed, Donald, hopefully of the covid you allowed to spread and mutate, that scientists crack open your thick skull and study what makes you the greatest racist in world history!” says Arnold running into the maze.
“Enough! I ain’t budging until you agree that I am the rightful president, Schwarzenegger,” pouts Trump.
“I inherited a shit-hole US of A when you abandoned ship in 2020. For two years I’ve been cleaning up your Goddamn mess and I am so done with this! So fuck you! Fuck you, Donald you’re on your own!” says Arnold running off into the maze.
Trump shouts after Arnold, “Foreigner! I was twice — Uh oh!” Trump’s tirade is cut short as the Trump zombie horde spin around the corner behind close in his heels. Trump spins and say, “My brave, Trump fans! Halt!” says Trump making a Nazi salute.
The Trump zombies all freeze in their tracks and return Trump’s Nazi salute shouting, “Heil, Trump! Heil Trump!”
High above, perched in the rafters, watching the show, the angel winged ghost of Martin Luther King passes a bag of ghostly popcorn to the ghost of LBJ and says sadly, “All I can say, Lyndon, is I’m glad Trump’s not one of my flock”
LBJ says, “Well, the orange clown sure as hell ain’t one of my flock either, Martin.” frowning down on the Trump zombies offering Trump a Nazi salute.
The maze, seen from this ghostly high vantage point, is a horrific collection of interwoven Nazi symbols.
Meanwhile, on the glossy sound stage floor in the maze below, a zombie, who was once Tucker Carlson, steps from the zombie horde,” Mr. President…” groans zombie Tucker.
“That you, Tucker? Wow. Good to see you, man,” says Trump happily.
Zombie Tucker nods and says sheepishly, “Ah, I’m sorry, sir.”
“Sorry for what, Tuck?”
“Well… You look great.”
“Thanks, Tuck. You… not so great.” says Trump sheepishly.
“I’m so hungry, sir. All the Big Macs you packed away. — Sorry, sir. I gotta eat you!” Tucker races from the crowd of Trump zombies for Trump.
“Tucker, you’re canceled.” BANG! “Come with me, Donald if you want to live!”
“Wait. Where have I heard that line?
FUCK YOU! THIS IS NOT A GOD DAMN TRIVA SHOW!”
“Hey, I’ve got Proud Boys who will beat the living shit out of you for speaking to me in such a rude -“
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I think I found a way out.”
“No. I love my fans.”
The Trump zombies all smile at Trump suddenly.
“See? My Trumpies… Wait a minute… I have a zombie army!” says Trump.
“What the hell did America ever see in you?” shouts Arnold as he dashes off again.
The red capped zombies begin to inch for Trump. “Stop!” shouts Trump again, doing his Nazi salute. But the zombies pick up speed. Not much, but they do pick up speed. Trump freezes in his tracks as the zombies claw over each other.
Suddenly, Spicer appears from nowhere to the rescue. “So grateful! You’re safe, sir! The Trump zombies listen and obey my song!” sings Spicer, thrusting his pelvis. “Halt! You fabulous bastards!”
Before Trump can say another word a badly overweight zombie leaps upon Sean Spicer. “Not the hat! Don’t touch the hat!” screams Sean. And rips him to shreds, splattering Trump is Sean’s blood. “Chris?”
“It’s always about the bridge. The bridge…” mutters zombie VP Chris Christie.
A horribly deformed Vice President Chris Christie spots Trump just as Trump spots him.
“Chris, is that you?” says Trump.
“You! You gave me Covid, you stupid bastard! Now we gotta eat your delicious ass! Dinner’s served, gang!” says zombie Chris Christie as he dives for Trump… and Trump somehow easily dodges Christie.
Trump easily keeps dodging as he taunts, “Slowpokes. Always did prefer the movies where the zombies are slow as fuck. Whoa! Gotta tweet that!” says Trump pulling out his cell phone and tweeting as he runs through the blood soaked mirror maze. “I love my twitter. Love Facebook even more. Yeah, social media. That’s where I get all my power and I got the tech nerds wrapped around my gigantic little finger.”
Christie dives for Trump and misses.
“Gettin’ tired yet Christie? You are one slow as fuck of zombie. Hahahahaha!”
Trump far behind, Arnold dashes through the maze. He stops to look at himself in the mirrored wall of the maze and says to his reflection, “For as old as fuck as I am right now, I still look better than –,” A zombie wearing a cheese hat jumps out in front of Arnold, waving an AK-47. Very slowly of course. Arnold gets the drop on him and BANG! Arnold notices the zombie he just shot is wearing a Congressional pin. “Oh, fuck. I think I just shot Ron Johnson.” Arnold yanks the machine gun from Johnson cold dead hand and says, “Oh well. No loss.”
The cocky Trump turns the corner and stops dead in his tracks facing his greatest enemy… a long… long… “RAMP. This is it. Impossible. No one could make it down. I’m finished,” croaks Trump as the slow moving zombie horde closes in on the frozen Trump. “This is it for me.”
“My brother President, I am here to save you!” shouts Arnold mass executing zombies with the AK-47 he took off Ron Johnson.
“You’re not my brother President. You’re a foreigner. You’re not president.”
“Goddamnit. Let me save you, you stupid fuck!” says Arnold as he easily runs down the ramp. “Baby steps, Donald. Try baby steps.”
Trump waddles down the ramp, slow as shit.
“Oh my God! What is it with you and ramps?” says Arnold sending dozens of zombie to their graves.
“Do not fucking rush me, Schwarzenegger. I will not end up with a hip surgery!”
“Hip surgery? You need a brain surgery!” shouts Arnold, picking off ten Congressmen zombies closing in on Trump with the AK-47. “And you’re welcome for my saving you.”
Foreigner! I’m the president!”
“Hurry! I don’t have unlimited bullets here, you know!” shouts Arnold, polishing off a baker’s dozen of Trump zombies.
Trump finally makes it to the bottom of the ramp. Trump fast walks with his arms as he slow walks with his feet.
“You’re not fooling anyone with that ‘fuck you’ walk of yours, Donald”
The equally slow moving zombie Christie reemerges from the Trump zombie horde. Trump shouts at Arnold, “Well, what are you waiting for? Shoot him!”
“I will not shoot my goddamn Vice President. You’re on your own, Donald. Again!” says Arnold running off into the maze.
“Let’s cut this fat orange fuck down to size, boys and girls. He’s had so many Fish Fillets we can all feast on one of his chubby thighs for a week!” shouts Christie. The growing zombie horde becomes more determined, as they slowly move for Trump, who is quickly running out of maze.
Trump finally gets it and runs as fast as his fat legs can carry him. Trump dodges through the mirrored maze and comes face to face with the entire Fox and Friends gang. The trio of Fox zombies have muted into an 8 foot tall three headed drooling monster.
Trump says nervously, “Hey, hey, how you three doin’? Whoa! Love that new look. It shouts GOP unity!”
The Fox and Friends giant Zombie rips the orange clown afro wig off Trump’s head, leaving Trump completely bald.
The deformed head of Doccy does all the talking,”You, fucking evil clown! You made us lie about the Covid every Goddamn day. You’ve killed us! You’ve killed the world! Get him!”
Trump pulls off his long red tie and forms a silk lasso. Trump’s red lasso swirls and snags the not so friendly Fox & Friends. Trump dashes off, amazingly light on his feet for such a fat man.
“Sir, lie to us! We love your lies,” shouts Ainsley, despite angry glares from the heads of Kilmead and Doccy.
Trump freezes in his tracks and riffs, “OK… How’s this one? The Chinese vaccines caused to mutation that made you sweethearts into a three-head giant zombie, not me!”
The tied up trio all confer with each other, speaking in some kind of weird zombie language. Ducey says, “Breaking News! “Trump and the other zombies watch Doocy with great anticipation. “Kill this lying sack of shit!”
The tied up Fox and Friends zombies, followed in slow pursuit by Christie. The zombie smash in side of mirror. Glass flies as Trump tap dances away.
Trump loses the zombies in the maze again. He comes upon President Schwarzenegger desperately pondering a series of five doors, labeled in neon with the years 2020 though 2024. “This is your show, Donald! We only have seconds to pick which door!”
Trump slowly walks up the pentagonal formation of doors, “Well, 2024 looks good because I can easily defeat you in a rigged election.”
“I already tried that door, you fool. It’s locked!” shouts Arnold as the sound of the zombies gets closer.
“Well, 2021 then. I’ll have won the election against you, even that fucker Biden.” says Trump with a smirk, opening then door. But Trump is stunned to see a angry mob of red capped insurrectionists, chasing Mike Pence as they shout, “Hang Mike Pence! Hang Mike Pence!” Trump slams the 2021 door shut and says, “What the fuck was that?”
“Oh, just some of your Proud Boys you’re so proud of!” grouses President Schwarzenegger.
Trump zombies, some of whom Trump saw at the glimpse of insurrection before they were zombie, spin around the corner.
“Time is up asshole! Pick another door!” barks Schwarzenegger as he mows down the endless supply of Trump zombies.
Trump yanks open the 2022 door and comes face to face with a fat zombie Mike Pence. “Donald?”
“Mikey? Haha. So good to see you, buddy,” says Trump hiding his terror.
“The insurrection. Why did you send the Trumpie insurrectionists to hang me on January 6th?” says Pence.
“Uh, must be some kinda antifa trick. I’d never sick my Trumpies on you, buddy. Not me. I’m from 2020! We never had the insurrection. I swear, Mike!”
Pence scowls, “Huh. Why don’t I believe you, Donald?” He unhooks his jaw and swallows Trump whole.
“Mother Mary of God? — How does he taste, though?” wonders President Schwarzenegger.
Pence burps and says somberly, “Like hamburgers. What else?”
Pence’s gaping maw transforms to Trump’s personal attendant Robert, giving Trump mouth to mouth. “Like breathing into a football!” says Robert out of breath.
The unconscious Trump is back in his White House bedroom in the good old present day April 25, 2020. Jared and Ivanka, dressed to a glittery hilt for a formal dinner, both look on nervously.
Ivanka whispers to Jared, “What in holy hell was daddy singing about? Some kind of hive mind. What was that?”
Jared whispers to the sobbing Ivanka, “Should Robert be reviving your dad?”
“So what if Robert’s black? Father is no racist!” sobs Ivanka loudly enough to interrupt Robert.
“Can you two keep it down for a minute?” says Robert, taking a breath from resuscitating Trump.
“That’s not what I meant. You’re always so critical!’ bitches Jared.
Robert stops mouth to mouthing Trump and says drolly, “Kids, do you mind putting your the universe-revolves-me -white-shit aside for 5 minutes while I –“
“Does OUR father have resuscitation order, Robert?” shouts Jared to the incredulous Robert.
Ivanka beats on Jared’s tiny chest,”JARED! Let Robert try to save Father until the paramedics get here.”
“Ah ha. I get it. Make it look like we care. But seriously, Father dies we take over the presidency ,” whispers Jared to Ivanka, who finally gets it with small nod of collusion.
“Hmm. Robert. Um, does my father have a resuscitation order?”
Robert rolls his eyes at Jared and Ivanka and goes back to saving Trump with mouth to mouth.
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 5 – THE COVID KID
Return with us to the thrilling days of yesteryear in the OId West, when Trump is the sheriff of a small western town divided into Confederate and Union citizens
A big thanks once again to my amazingly talented wife Elizabeth England for playing all the female parts in this 2021 reading. No disrespect to the fallen of Covid intended. I hope you can have a good sense of humor about all this stuff. It’s the only way we can keep sane.
And thank God we’re on the timeline we are where we don’t have the three million dead kind of situation I think we would have had under Trump. I don’t know what the hell he was doing with the Covid, but it really was not working . Kudos to Joe Biden, Kamala and his team for what they’ve done to restore our lives. I’m going to be seeing my grandchildren soon and I’m really excited.
As always my handy disclaimer that this story is of course a work of pure fiction about an alternate universe. It is in no way a true reflection of the kind and compassionate real-life Donald J Trump, and his charming GOP enablers the Supreme Court, or for that matter, the supposed good guys in this dark comedic tale.
Whoa! Alternate reality President Schwarzenegger is here and wants a word with you!
Listen up, America! Help my good friend Ken Sheetz is busting his flabby ass to bring you laughs and wild adventures, in a time of sorrow, to show you just how fucked up your world can be if you don’t defeat your Trump once and for all, and all the lying losers in the GQP! Make a god damn donation, you cheap bastards, to help Ken keep bringing you more chapters and more old-style radio show audio and make sure that… I’ll be back.
Trump news, both comedic and conventional, is so incredibly pervasive in 2018 we simply cannot avoid it.
Ironically, and there’s no end to irony in these Trumpy times, talented comedians, 99% of them left leaning, riffing on Trump News has become a major source of over-saturation of fascination with Trump’s every Tweet and stumble.
I searched Google for this piece, but I cannot find stats on how many hours of Trump news we have been bombarded with daily for three years solid now. My guess? 500 hours of new Trump content is created on mainstream media per day. My guess is based on how many 24/7 shows plus daily comedy shows focus on the Tweeter in chief.
Blame or credit, depending how you feel about Trump news, the proliferation of today’s bumper crop of comics riffing on the Trump on granddaddy comedian Johnny Carson. As host of the TONIGHT SHOW for three full decades, from 1962-1992, “Here’s Johnny” introduced the jokes based on the daily news as part of his live show comedy monologues.
Flash forward, past LAUGH-IN political jabs, Chevy Chase spoofing the news with Jane Curtain on SNL, plus all their SNL News descendants, and you come to the father of modern comedy news comedy; the very talented Jon Stewart. His stint as the host and head writer of Comedy Central’s hit show THE DAILY SHOW broke the bank on his TV progeny doing comedic news.
But, BIG BUT, all these new shows have a serious liberal tilt. In other words, your brain will be hopelessly liberal slanted if you watch them all in one sitting. Take my word for it because I used to watch each and every one of these lib-talents daily before I realized I was addicted to the Trump feeding frenzy. I slowly fell into filling my heart with comedic rage.
A term I may have just coined, comedic rage is repressed anger venting itself as “It’s better to laugh than cry!” A good thing in moderation, but in the excess coverage of today not good for the soul.
In fairness to today’s comics, of which I’ve been one via my 6.5 million view KidsTalkPolitics channel before it got hacked, the crazy stuff Trump tweets, typos be damned, is so damn funny it really does take fleet of comics to cover the insanity. Ah, yes, it will be a #SAD! when Trump’s admin ends one day, but since I don’t see on impeachment in my crystal ball, live it up funny people.
Back to why I began this post, if you want to keep some political objectivity in your life, the Coolest Meditation Ever (CME) Trumpy, picture a portly Oscar, goes to Stephen Colbert. Forget the rest. Colbert’s’s obssessed with Trump take downs and he’s all you need.
Well, there is one other Trump comedic must-see: Baldwin.
My advice? Go light on Trump comedy binging. From hard won personal experience: More than two comic romps per day renders Trump comedy as unfunny as jokes about Trump not knowing the difference between HPV and HIV.