Trump’s Fever Dream – Chapter 7 – Weekend at Trumpie’s

Meanwhile One Timeline Away… in a universe not very far away… an obese President Donald Trump, very much like our own, living on a parallel Earth, very much like our own, lays intubated, deep in a Covid coma.

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 the 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 fucking unconscious?”

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 tiles.

“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.

“No fair, Steve. 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.

“Maybe…”

“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,” says Jared drowsily with a yawn.

“Ew. Disgusting.” says Ivanka, nodding rapidly in agreement.

“Well, minus the donkey and the sex all we need to do is get a great voice 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.

“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 affair with Kamala,” Bannon says dryly.

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. 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. The Man!”  Bannon waits a beat as his phone rings an unknown caller who finally picks up. “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 the chest. Yuri says to the nervous looking Bannon, “Relax, Commrade Bannon. –”

“Call me, Steve please.”

“How about Steverino?” says Yuri imitating Trump.

“Steve!”

“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. How ‘ bout you, comrade Steve?”

“Just, Steve! Cut the chi chat, Yuri, and study your fucking lines!”

“Comra  — Ah Steve, why so tense, my brother in this deepest of deep fakes?”

“Melania’s due back tonight after cutting her month long sabbatical short. So we need to wrap this up pronto and get her bedroom back to normal in…,” Bannon pauses to read his watch and adds, “Exactly seven hours.”

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.

“Momma! 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 Momma 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, Melania!” says Jared yanking Melania down the stairway.”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Cocoa then?”

“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. How’s an OJ sound?”

“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, Comr — 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,

“What?”

“I noticed, Steve, that 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 says, “Totally coincidental. Now –”

“And then there are clues in your name.”

“My name?”

“B-a-n-n-o-n.”

“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 red blood appears over Melani’s heart on her pristine white dress.

Melania softly says, “Ouch.” and then she falls to Steve’s feet.

Steve takes Melania’s pulse, “Dead as Trump’s brother Robert. “Fuck me…” says Bannon dropping the gun to the floor.

END CHAPTER 7 – WEEKEND AT TRUMPIE’S

Trump’s Fever Dream – Chapter 2 – The White Hospital

Welcome to my writing therapy and I hope your reading therapy. This blog series is a science fiction parody about a dark future, perhaps coming into sad reality due the “too painful to watch” daily show of Trump’s inability to lead during the coronavirus crisis.

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If you are just joining us on the blog here’s a link to read Chapter one if you’d like to enjoy the whole science fictional parody as it builds.

When we last left a feverish President Trump it was May 2022 when he was just dumped buck naked in the thorny bushes of the Rose Garden by a mysterious giant time traveling cosmic butterfly.

TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM

CHAPTER 2 – THE WHITE HOSPITAL

Trump’s former young black personal attendant, Robert, dressed in a hospital gown and mask, helps a badly scratched Trump from the rose bushes to his shaky feet and says,”Whoa. Last time I saw you, I rushed out your bedroom to get the doc. When I came back your were gone! Where’d you go for two whole years? And why are you naked as a Jay bird on the 4th of July?”

Too distracted to answer, Trump notices every window in the White House is brightly lit and wonders, “Why the hell are all the White House lights on?”

“Put on my spare mask and gown on and I’ll show you,” says Robert handing Trump both.

“I’m immune to the virus. Don’t need this junk!” shouts Trump, drawing attention from a masked security guard.

“Sorry. President Cuomo’s executive order of 2021 makes wearing of gowns and masks law,” offers Robert grimly.

“President Cuomo!” shouts Trump. Spotting the masked White House security, pulling out his pistol, Trump angrily complies. As he struggles to gown up Trump says, “Cuomo?! Why isn’t Mike president? He dead?”

“Pence ain’t dead yet… but he’s eating himself there.”

“Eating?” says Trump.

“To appeal to your Trumpers ol’ Pence took over your brand of eating all American fast food. But that shit got way outta control. Last report Pence’s gained 130 pounds since he was ousted from the presidency.”

Trump laughs wickedly and says,”Ousted how?

“Senate unanimously impeached him for slipping ventilators to all his PAC backers. Mikey, never even made it to the elections. Your yes man was lost after you vanished.”

“What happened to Biden?”

“Gone with the Covid. Sweet guy. Don’t think he’d have been much of president in any case.”

“And Bernie?”

“Virus killed old Bernie same day as Moscow Mitch. But not before he gave his spot to Cuomo. Bernie that is,” adds Robert.

“Who’d Cuomo run against?” says Trump in angry wonder.

“Jared. Epic landslide.”

“Surprise!” says Trump dryly. “So who’s Andy’s VP?”

“Chris, his –”

“Brother, I know. What a fuck fest! Totally illegal.”

“The Senate, they changed them laws to permit sibs in office,” says Robert, trying not to show his happiness.

The gowned and masked Trump stomps for the White House, “Enough. I am gonna tell Cuomo face to face to get the fuck out of my oval office.”

“America’s hero, um, President Cuomo, he don’t work from here no more.”

Trump stops dead in his tracks and spins to ask, “What? Why?!”

“President Cuomo, you see, he made the White House into a coronavirus hospital. We call it the White Hospital now. I still work here. Trained nurse now on the front line,” says Robert proudly

“So where do I find the Cuomo brothers’ HQ?”

“You ain’t gonna like what I gotta tell you, sir,” says Robert kicking at the poorly mowed White House lawn.

“Stop fucking around and give it to me,” says Trump grabbing Robert by his hospital gown.

“The Cuomos brother, you see theyt work from the repossessed Trump Tower.”

“Fuck me.”

“After all the lawsuits for your — ahem — handling of the virus, well, it was your baby Ivanka’s only option,” says Robert warily.

“How’s Ivanka?!” asks Trump and then adds as an afterthought, “And the rest of my kids… and Melania?”

“Brace yourself… condolences,” says Robert hanging his head. “All dead except your boy, Barron.

“All my kids except Barron dead! Melania dead? But they were all in great health. The greatest.” says Trump with surprisingly little emotion.

“Wicked virus keeps mutating. Now it’s letting the Boomers alone. Been killing mostly peeps age 30 to 50 now. Eric, well, he went just last week. But not of the virus.”

“No?”

“Eric bowed out on a hunting trip trying to extinct the last Rhino. Rhino got him. So sorry, sir,” says Robert gently patting Trump and the back.

“Don’t be,” says Trump waving off Robert’s sympathy.

“Huh? I know you’re tough, sir. But that’s cold.”

“Not cold. It’s fine,” says Trump with a maniacal grin.

“Fine how?”

“Ha. This is all just a fever dream.” says Trump with a delerious chuckle.

“Wow. Love that shit. But sadly this is all too real, Donald, I mean, sir.”

“Believe what you want. I’m outta here,” Trump storms off for the White House

“Where you goin’, sir?” says a bewildered Robert.

“Back to my bedroom to wake the fuck up!”

Robert shrugs and lets Trump storm off to the White House to learn for himself.

END CHAPTER 2