Trump’s Fever Dream – Chapter 5 – The Desert Sickness

Here’s some old timey radio style audio for them’s like to listen versus the whole readin’ thing.

Howdy Buckaroos, I wrote the first draft for this here chapter 5 ’bout 6 months before old Trump actually got the Covid. And, well, you didn’t need to be no Western Fortune Teller to know that it was a gonna happen. What with them rallies an’ all the kissin’ talk. And here I am in 2021, addin’ old-style radio show audio with the best western accent I can muster up, to amuse and astound the left and right alike.

Heads up you sensitive folk who don’t like gunfights, people a dyin’ and one a them there alternate universe Trumps and other GQP a gettin’ they’s comeuppance, well, just feel free to mosey on off.

CHAPTER 5 – THE DESERT SICKNESS

Meanwhile one timeline away….

Trump blinks his open bloodshot eyes and squints at the blinding glare of surgery lights overhead. He struggles to sit up, but restraints hold Trump in place.

A gowned, masked Dr. Fauci notices Trump stir and says in his best soothing tone, “Please don’t struggle, Mr. President. You’re lucky your body man Robert kept you alive with mouth to mouth until the paramedics brought you here. Um, not so lucky, you’ve come down with a severe case of the Coronavirus, sir.”

Trump tries to speak, but the pain is so intense he cannot.

“Don’t speak! Your throat’s badly seared. Nod if you understand me,” offers Dr. Fauci.

Trump nods “yes” curtly.

“Now, Mr. President, serious question I need a serious answer for if I am going to have a chance to save your life. Here goes: Have you taken any Hydroxychloroquine?”

Trump nods yes sadly.

“And did you drink any disinfectants today?”

Trump nods grimly while making the hand signal for “a little.”

“Lysol perhaps?” says Fauci, resisting the urge for to do a face palm.

Trump shakes his head “no” rapidly.

“Sorry. Brand’s immaterial. — Did you orally ingest any sort of bleach?”

Trump nods “yes” reluctantly.

“OK. It’s 2 AM. I’m gonna name some earlier times from today. Nod when I’m close to the time of day you drank the bleach.”

“Midnight?”

Trump nods, impressed Fauci guessed right on the first try.

“Nurse, stomach pump! Stat!”

An older nurse wheels over a stomach pump.

“Donald, I’m placing you on anesthesia. After pumping your stomach the nurse will immediately intubate you. That is if your damaged esophagus can handle it. But before I put you in that coma, uh, there’s an old friend here who must have a word with you,” says Dr. Fauci as he steps aside to reveal a gowned and masked Mike Pence.

“Hey, buddy. It’s Mike, um, Mike Pence, your VP. How you doin’?”

Annoyed as hell, Trump messages with his eyes for Pence to get on with it.

“Ok, Ok. Why I ‘m here. Right. You see, I’d like your blessings on my VP choice before I temporarily step into your big shoes, amigo. All very temporary of course until your back on the job in record covid-time,” says Pence, doing his best to sound sincere.

Trump becomes more agitated, but nods OK.

The mask-free Pence speaks up nervously, “Now, I know this is going to be a little hard for you to swallow — Geez Louise, sorry about that expression! — Um, what with how my Veep pick and you, um, have had a little run-in on Celebrity Apprentice –”

Trump’s eyes widen with rage as he grunts angrily.

“Sorry. — I’ll cut to the chase.– Donald, we need to reunite the country in this dark time. The markets have crashed three times in the past 24 hours. The Dow is down 5000 points. Banks are closed to prevent runs and bankers are demanding $3 trillion in aid –” Pence stops his political blathering under Trump’s searing glare.

“Ok, ok, Arnold Schwarzenegger is my VP pick.” says Pence

Trump writhes and groans in agony that his fever dream about Schwarzenegger as president in 2022 might be turning out to be prophetic.

“Swell, Donald. I’m going to take your reaction as a definite “yes” and announce you’re in total and complete agreement to make Arnold  my temporary VP, assuming I can get a Senate waiver on his not being American born,” says Pence as Trump writhes in agony. “See? That wasn’t so bad now was it? Okie dokie. I turn you back of to the good Dr. Fauci here. Get well soon, buddy,” chirps Pence.

Enraged, Trump struggles mightily to free himself of the restraints. Pence gives Trump a peck on his sweaty forehead. Dr. Fauci injects the writhing Trump. The surgery room and the worried face of Mike Pence fade from view.

Fauci’s distant echoing voice rides the white void, “Word of warning, Mr. President. Covid fever dreams can be… quite intense. Brace yourself… self… self.”

WELCOME TO CORONA NEVADA

Trump’s blurry twisted vision of an old town of the West fades into confusing view. Town folk, half of them wearing blue colored western bandit masks and half mask-free with red cowboy hats, mill about on the dusty street.

Two gunfighters take to the street, one a blue-masked young man and mask-free old timer in a red cowboy hat. Everyone scatters. Doors slam.

Blue masked young man says, “I take back what I said about the Sheriff, Uncle. We ain’t gotta do this.”

Oblivious to the gunfighters, Trump stares into the desert sky, fascinated as it keeps shifting back and forth between being the sun and an overhead surgery light.

The man in the red hat spits and shouts, “Bugs ya I love Sheriff Trump more than you, Nephew. Don’t it?”

“You raised me, Uncle! Of course it does!”

“Draw, nigger lover!”

“No, Uncle! I refuse to draw on family –”

BANG!

The blue masked young man watches in shock as blood spreads from a hole in his white shirt. He falls face down in the dirt street.

The man in a red hat snarls over the young man’s body, “Worthless, mask lover. Give my regards to my slave loving sister in hell.”

Trump watches in a daze as the town undertaker and town drunk, Rudy Giuliani, drags the blue-masked young boy towards his funeral parlor with a red door. Rudy, waves to Trump and says brightly. “Mornin’ Sheriff Trump. Gorgeous day!”

Trump does not answer. Rudy shrugs his shoulders and returns to dragging his human cargo for his funeral parlor.

A short time later on the outskirts of town, Rudy whips his horse team, pulling a wagon full of dead bodies. “Ah. That dang sheriff wants me put these bodies in separate graved, the red and the blue. But I just ain’t got the time no more. Can’t keep up with this desert sickness. — Whoa!” shouts Rudy bringing the horse team to a halt.

Rudy chugs a bottle of whiskey, downs the bottle and tosses it into the canyon.

Rudy pulls a lever and the wagon bed lifts up. Corpses rain into the canyon below. “Well, you’re all finally together now, aren’t ya? The red blue alike,” cackles Rudy.

BANG! A bullet hole appears in Rudy’s forehead. “Welp, them injuns die warn me this was their burial ground…”

Rudy falls into the canyon below, joining the dead.

A Native American pats his stove pipe hat, with a feather on it, holsters his rifle and rides off into the distance.

Back in town, Trump works out a kink in his back, squirming on the porch bench of his sheriff’s office, and belches loudly. Trump happily notices he’s dressed as the town sheriff, tin badge, six shooter and all.

Trump blinks, fully taking in the sight of the dusty New Mexico town of Corona, here in the Old West. “Reckon I’m on the set of Westworld?” says Trump, puzzled at his Western accent. “That’s as odd as a rattler with jingle bells on his durned tail. Fuck. Can’t shake this danged bum fuck accent!”

Kellyanne Conway, takes a seat beside him on the bench. She’s dressed in a frilly pioneer frock of the day. Kellyanne swings opens picnic basket and chirps brightly in a thick southern accent, “Hey, sleepy head. Have a nice nap?”

“Kellyanne?” says Trump, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Haha! That’s my name alright, sleepy bear. You sure do dream deep. Made your fav, hon. Burgers and gravy. Just the thing to wake you up!” coos Kellyanne, uncovering her steaming masterpiece. Kellyanne lovingly tucks a napkin into Trump’s dusty shirt.

On the street a woman in a red bonnet falls to the dirt.

“Another customer for Rudy. Desert Sickness keeps takin’ people from the Right we won’t have much of a Right left,” says Trump with a shrug as he digs into Kellyanne gravy soaked burger. And speaks with his mouthful,”Wow, babe. Had this crazy dream I’s president of these here United States a way, way in the future.”

“Sorry, hon. Ya’all’s just the Sheriff of our sweet little town of Corona in 1864,” purrs Kellyanne.

“I’d a sweared it was the year 2020,” grouses Trump, still surprised by how old West he sounds.

“And we’ll be married 35 years come June 23rd next week. So now ya’all have no excuse to forgit again!” says Kellyanne, sneaking a kiss to Trump’s cheek.

Trump’s badly overweight deputy, William Barr, Billy in this world, plops two used up paint cans, one blue and one red, on the porch. He grabs seat, mopping his forehead with a dirty white hanky. Seeing Trump’s puzzled expression Barr offers, “Finished, sir.”

“Finished with what, Billy?” asks Trump.

“Why, paintin’ every dang front door in town of the Confederate homes red and the Union homes blue. Just like you ordered, sir,” says Barr.

Puzzled to say the least, Trump runs a hand though his long head of silver hair as he says uncertainly, “Lemme see, our brave Confederates… they don’t wear masks, right?”

Kellyanne brightly offers, “Them Union folks are chickens who are slaved to wearing a mask and keeping their distance! Silly old blue bellies are terrified of the desert sickness.”

“Stupefyingly stupid. Right, sir?”

“Amen, Billy boy,” says Trump, getting into the swing of things.

“Got anymore of them delicious burgers and gravy in your picnic basket, Kellyanne?” asks Barr sweetly.

“Never forgit my favorite deputy. Here ya’all go, Billy boy,” says Kellyanne offering deputy Barr a gravy soaked burger.

“Billy, why in holy hell is the dang General Store still closed?!” Trump says, angrily pointing to the General Store across the street with a freshly painted blue front door.

“That uppity nigger Bobby Tulsa, says he ain’t opening our fair town’s only General Store ’til Doc gives everybody a checkup for the desert sickness,” grouses Kellyanne.

“Meantime, Corona’s citizens, red and blue both, are runnin’ outta food fast — and they’s a blamin’ you, Sheriff,” offers Barr.

“Time to pay a little visit to our town’s only freed slave,” says Trump rising a bit shakily to his feet. And comes face to face with his horse Eric.

“Oh, Dad. Why’d I gotta be a horse in this dream?” brays Eric the horse.

“Shut up! I got me a nigger ta see!” barks Trump.

A short time later Trump Trump glares over the cash register at the blue mask wearing Robert, his Black personal valet in DC of 2020. The same one who saved his life with mouth to mouth, and who is now in this reality the general store owner in Trump’s 1864 fever dream.

Trump bellows, “I don’t care if’n you’re worried about some weak old sods headin’ for the last roundup. You Yankees gottsta realize this here sickness serves God’s purpose. It’s like the wolves. They thin the herd! Get it? Huh. Gotta tweet that today.”

“Tweet? Ya mean like a little birdy?” wisecracks Robert.

Trump grabs Robert by his shopkeeper’s blue apron, “Do not get uppity with me, boy! If was up to me you’d be still picking cotton in Georgia where you belong!”

Robert shakes off Trump’s hand on his shirt and angrily says, seething hate welling in his normally soft eyes, “No doubt as a slave. Nevada’s a free territory, Trump. And I am a free man. My store. My rules. And my rule is that my store stays shut until Doc examines everyone for the desert sickness. Only way to stop swapping us back and forth tween us like deranged kindergartners!”

Barr inserts himself between Trump and Robert and says in his usual deadpan droll, “Now, Robert. You, more than most in Corona, have enjoyed the good Sheriff’s protection from the Confederates in here town. Now, son, we’d never want to see you lynched –”

Trump shoves Barr aside and bellows, “Shut it, Deputy! I give the orders in this here town! And I demand this here General Store reopen today and you get your lazy black ass back on the job, Bobby boy!”

“You know, runnin’ this little store I get to know a few personal things about the folks in this town. And Sheriff, to be honest — And it’s nice nice to be honest. You should give it try once and while just to keep us guessin’ — There’s a whole lotta things you don’t want me tellin’ your fourth wife Kellyanne about. Like, for example, your “Stormy” twice a week deal with the town whore,” calmly offer Robert.

Dumbfounded that Robert has boxed him in, Trump sputters, “You’re gonna be sorry, Tulsa. Powerful sorry.”

“I am already sorry, Donald. Sorry I ever moved to your piece of shit you call a town,” says Robert taking Trump and Barr forcefully about the shoulders and escorting them out of the store with a shove and they fall into the dirt.

“And you still owe me for that shipment of hydroxychloroquine, Trump!” snarls Robert as he slams the General Store door shut and pulls down the CLOSED window shade.

Robert turns from the storefront and almost jumps out of his skin at the sight of a Native American. The same one with the stove pipe hat who shot Giuliani. Robert breaths a sigh of relief and says, “Chief! Gotta stop sneaking up on me like that!”

“Mocasins. I hear all crazy orange one spoke. His venom smells of sulfur,” says the Chief sniffing the air in disgust.

“Ha. They don’t call you Laughing Skies for nothin’!” laughs Robert, transferring a big bag of grain into the chief’s muscular arms.

“No joke today, Robert Tulsa. You twist tail of demon,” says the chief.

“Ah, Trump’s just an old wind bag. Nothinl’ to fret about,” says Robert, trying to convince himself.

Chief Laughing Skies says sadly, “No. Trump worse than US Cavalry.”

“Worse?”

“Blue bellies kill the Paiute. Trump kills own White tribe. Evil spirit,” says Chief Laughing Skies grimly.

Robert peers out the window at the fuming Trump. “Well, I can tell you one thing for sure, Sheriff Trump’s madder than a wet hen.”

Outside Robert Tulsa’s General Store, Barr dusts off his boss. Enraged, Trump spins to Barr, “Billy, I want a full investigation into where Robert Tulsa gets his stock foods.”

“Already done. The blackie gets most of his supplies from a damned Chinaman who visits Corona once a month. In fact, I have conspiracy theory all my own that Bobby was responsible for helpin’ the Chinese bastards spread the desert sickness to our fine Confederate folk.”

“Hell, yeah! That must be why Confederate folks are getting sicker faster, ain’t they?” ponders Trump, loving Barr’s conspiracy theory.

“Yup. Though, a course, Doc said it could also be because, uh, we red doors don’t wash our hands and wear masks,” offers Barr feebly.

“Never you mind with them new fangled Union notions! Draft up charges and serve that blackie Tulsa. I want him hung by Sunday. Folks do love a good hangin’. Cleanses the soul,” gloats Trump, wishing to himself again that the old west had Twitter.

An out of breath kid, wearing a blue cloth mask, runs up to Trump and holds out a note. But Trump is too busy kicking Eric the horse in the ass to notice.

“Ouch! Stop it, Pa!” neighs Eric, who only Trump can hear.

“That’ll teach you for eatin’ up all the horse pills!” shouts Trump.

Townspeople, red and blue alike, hide the fear in the eyes that the Sheriff is talking to a horse who they only hear neighs and whinnies.

“Those are my horse pills, Pa. For my worms,” neighs Eric.

“Don’t talk so loud, Eric. The horse pills are secret recipe for stayin’ clear of the desert of the Desert Sickness!” says Trump giving Eric another kick in the horse’s ass. Eric the horse poops on Trump’s boots.

Townspeople hide the fear in their eyes that the sheriff is talking to a horse, who they only hear as neighs and whinnies. Eric poops mightily.

“You shit my boots, you stupid nag of a son!” complains Trump.

“Sorry, Pa. It was the worms made me,” says Eric the horse.

BOOM! A fireball rises in the desert sky. Debris falls. Townspeople scream.

The uncle who killed his nephew, seared by the explosion, stumbles from an alley up to Trump and says, proudly saluting, “Sir! Blowed up that town windmill like you asked for, sir!”

“Huh?” puzzles Trump, still ignoring the kid with a note.

The murdering uncle adds, “You know, the windmill that pumps water to the town. The one was makin’ everybody get the cancer with that terrible noise.”

Trump makes the noise,”Whirrr whirr whirr? “

“Yup! No more whir, whir whir, sir!” says the murdering flashing his lousy toothy grin at Trump.

Barr worries quietly to Trump, “How we gonna get water without the windmill, Donald?”

“Why, uh, from the creek, a course!” shouts Trump.

“Dry Creek dried up. Ain’t rained a drop in Corona for over in a year,” worries Barr.

“No problemo, sirs. I know a secret spring where the town can get the freshest water in the –” the murdering sycophant’s eyes go wide and he falls face first into the dirt at Trump’s shit covered boots, dead as a doornail.

Trump steps over the murdering uncle’s body and complains, “Desert sickness strikes again. Where’d my booze hound good for nothin’ Rudy go? Street’s littered with corpses!” Finally spotting the kid with the note Trump bellows, “Seen the undertaker you lousy blue-masked brat?!”

The boy in the mask bawls, shoves the note in Barr’s chubby hand and runs off.

Barr opens the note and his eyes go wide.

“Whut?” growls Trump.

“Note from Kellyanne,” says Barr offering the note to Trump.

“Well, read it!”

“Pray for me, Donald. I have the fever. Love, Kellyanne” says Barr softly.

“Louder!” yells Trump.

“PRAY FOR ME, DONALD. I HAVE THE FEVER! LOVE, KELLYANNE!” bellows Barr, hiding any emotion on his rolly polly puss.

Townspeople red and blue stop dead in their tracks.

Trump stiffens and preaches piously to the shocked coughing townspeople, holding his Bible high, “Fever? Ha! Who cares? I am the Chosen one! And I hereby choose that my love Kellyanne will not perish the Desert Sickness! So help me, Trump!”

“Show’s over, folks Get back to your business!” Barr shouts at the dazed townspeople.

Time shifts into high gear. Citizens, masked and unmasked, race up the street as the sun rockets overhead across the western sky. Eight hours pass in the blink of an eye. Night falls like rock.

Trump happily finds himself on the outskirts of town, standing beside a hanging tree, dressed in a KKK robe, the hood down.

Atop Eric the horse, Robert Tulsa is surrounded by two dozen KKK members whose Tiki torches light their sinister eyes.

Trump raises a mug to the stars, “A toast to the end our water troubles…”

“You’re dad gum, sir!” says the amazed Deputy Barr.

…drinkin’ our own urine!” proclaims Trump to the stunned Klansmen

Barr discreetly pours his mug of piss into the sand.

The KKK men raise their mugs of piss, cheering, “For he’s the jolly good fellow!” as they drink the urine through the mouth slits in their hoods.

Robert says, “Oh my God, Guys, you’re going to drink piss for Trump? Hang me now!”

“Ah. Dee-licious!” shouts Trump as he turns from orange to green and vomits. The KKK men lift their hoods and vomit, to the incredulous laughter of Robert.

“Appears we may still have water problem, sir. — Uh, how’s Kellyanne doin’?” worries Deputy Barr to change the subject.

“Dang desert sickness got her,” says Trump, wiping his vomit soaked hand on Barr’s leather jacket.

“Oh, Donald I’m so sorry. So sorry,” says Barr, throwing away his jacket.

“Yeah. Sure gonna miss Kellyanne’s burgers and gravy,” muses Trump.

“Is that all — I mean me too,” bumbles Barr.

“But lookin’ on the bright side….”

“Here it fuckin’ comes,” mutters Robert to himself.

“…I’m single again! Yee haw!” cheers Trump, hamming it up for his lynch mob.

Robert says bitterly, “Let’s get this party over with you and your “fine people”, Mr. Mayor, Reverend, Sheriff and Racist Asshole.”

Barr cracks Robert in the jaw with the butt of his rifle.

“As Carona’s mayor, sheriff and reverend I hereby send you straight to hell, Robert Tulsa,” says Trump bitterly.

Robert spits out blood on Trump’s platform cowboy boots and says, courage lighting his large brown eyes. “I said get on with it. I don’t want the last thing I hear in this life to be your bullshit,” says Robert, the rope tugging at his neck.

Eric the horse, who only Trump can hear, brays, “He’s heavy, Pa. You’ve been eating all my horse pills. I ain’t got the strength to carry this man.”

“Well, you’re not gonna have to carry him far, Eric!” shouts Trump.

Robert twists to face the KKK mob and says,”Trump is talking to a fucking horse. Come on, guys. We gotta rid of this senile mother fucker before he lets the Desert Sickness kill us all!”

“Nice try but they don’t speak nigger!” laughs Barr.

The lynch mob laugh so hard the almost laugh their KKK hoods off.

“Final chance. Speak your last words , boy!” bellows Trump.

“This is all I got. America was built on the backs of my people and the extermination of it’s native –”

Trump smacks his son Eric horse on the butt.

The KKK men cheer with Trump as Robert chokes.

BANG! A distant rifle’s sound splits the air and the rope above Robert’s hangmen noose is cut free. Hands tied, Robert kicks Eric hard in his ribs.

Eric the horse neighs to Trump as he races Robert,” Sorry, Pa!”

“You traitorous nag!”

“He kicked me hard, Pa! Sorry!” nays Eric, racing Robert off into the night.

Trump turns to dumbfounded KKK men and hollers, “Well, don’t none of you grand wizards own a fucking gun?”

The KKK thugs all fire. All miss.

Trump forgets his fury. He staggers, suddenly dizzy and cough-says. “Man…

“Trump’s got the desert sickness! Let’s get the fuck out of here!” shouts the only skinny KKK man. The KKK men thunder off and run smack into Robert, Laughing Skies and the Paiute warriors.

“Billy, Billy, you gotta help me back to the town., “croaks Trump.

“Sorry, Donald. It every man for himself. You got the Desert –” BANG!

Hey there, Buckaroos. I’d say that bullet went through Barr heart. But that old Billy Barr ain’t got no heart.

All is darkness. Black as the soul of Donald J. Trump. Trump floats over the desert in a hospital bed… intubated.

A fly lands on Trump’s nose. He squints, trying to remove the fly, shakes his head, best as he can, but the fly sticks.

Trump finally notices the fly has the face of his father, Fred Trump. Fred the fly shouts,”You’re no good, Donnie. You’re no good. You’re going to even fuck up getting Covid. Aren’t ya? You’re a fuck up, Donnie. You’re a fuck up, Donnie. You’re a fuck up, Donnie. You fuck up everything!”

Trump groans in agony.

“Can’t believe I gave you three million dollars a year when you were a baby. You’re not worth three cents now!

A Black hand reaches out from nowhere, swats the fly away and disappears instantly. Trump breathes a sign of relief when he sees the lights of Corona in the distance. Trump swims through the air with his arms, pulling the hospital bed floating towards the city.

He looks down and sees a celebration taking place in the town square, headed up by no other than Robert Tulsa, who announces, “Citizens of Corona it gives me great pleasure to introduce to you our new Sheriff. Sheriff Barrack Obama!

Barack dances onto the stage and hugs Robert to the wild applause of the townspeople, now all wearing American flag masks. Sheriff Barrack is flanked by the Paiute chief Laughing Skies and his band of warriors, who bravely rescued Robert and defeated the KKK.

Floating high above in his hospital bed ,Trump moans in agony as Barrack launches into a speech, “If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is still a place where all things are possible…”

Back in the real world Robert Tulsa is enjoying watching Obama’s 2008 victory speech on the hospital TV in Trump’s room. A fly lands on the intubated Trump’s nose. Robert swats the fly away. And we notice this the same hand that swatted the fly away in Trump’s fever dream.

Suddenly, Fauci enters. He panics at the sight of Obama’s victory video playing and says a bit amused, “Robert, what are you doing here? You can’t play that kind of thing while Trump is sleeping! It’s gonna get into his mind and it’s going to totally screw with his dreams wherever he is in his coma!”

Robert quickly remotes the TV off and asks, “Is the President gonna make it, Doc?”

Worried, Fauci speculates, “I don’t know… There’s a lot of horse medicine in him.”

To Be Continued in Chapter 6 – Mt. Rushmore and the Bunker Rebels

REAL FEVER DREAMS

Sadly Covid-19 patients can end up intubated in an induced coma on a respirator for weeks on end. The odds of a virus patient ever regaining consciousness drop daily the longer someone remains on a respirator. Strangely, Trump’s terrible fever dreams of choking and dying over and over again in elaborate ways I depict in this story are something I intuited weeks ago before this story from Atlantic.

Special thanks to my wife Elizabeth England for her fine portrayal of Kelly Anne Conway as a Southern belle in the West.

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.

Phew. It takes months to make these audio recording. Donate at the link below to keep my one of a kind quantum space time meditational audio entertainment and enlightening content flowing.

Donate for the Coolest in stories and meditation.

BONUS CONTENT: A NIKI MINAJ CONSPIRACY THEORY

Trump’s Fever Dream -Chapter 4 – GQP of the Damned

Note: Chapter 4 GQP of the Damned contains scenes that some people may find offensive for zombie violence, political parody and explicit language, while others may find it incredibly entertaining. Pro-tip: If you choose to listen over reading be sure to scroll down to see GQP zombie art.

TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM is set in an alternate universe, where another Trump caught Covid six months before our own Big Lie fostering leader. A stupid occurrence in our parallel reality that did require me to be psychic to predict; watching him go mask-less at big rallies

Special thanks to Senator Rand Paul, banned from YouTube this week for sharing Covid disinformation and who may be guilty of profiting from such for being the horrific inspiration that finally gave me the climax to Chapter 4 and the final title.

We now join…

Chapter 4 – GQP OF THE DAMNED

Meanwhile one timeline away…

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 Trump’s right eye,  travel down his optic nerve, and enter his Adderall befuddled mind. Darkness.

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 and spiffed up in his favorite blue power suit, complete with his clownishly long red tie. He’s 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, 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 his 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 the DeSantis variant 3 that’s strictly 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 Schwarzenegger stepped in,” says Vice President Christie.

“Are you saying, Mr Vice President, that President Schwarzenegger 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 zombie who once was Senator Ron Paul, emerges at the top of the stands and talks to no one but himself cackling, “Look ma! No masks!” Zombie Ron Paul hungrily eyes a burly Hell’s Angels biker. “You vaccinated?”

“Do I look like a Covidiot? Ha!” The zombie Senator leaps upon the biker’s back and chomps the biker’s tattooed shoulder. The biker yelps and instantly transforms to a fellow zombie. Biker and Senator 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 by zombie Ron Paul and transforms in the blink of a bloodshot eye into a flesh eating zombie. She hungrily eyes Vice President Chris Christie as he flees newly minted GOP VIP zombies. “Stay away 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.

The Original 2020 draft’s Chapter title

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.”

“Shit.”

“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!”

Screen Shot 2021-06-30 at 5.21.50 PM.png

“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.

“Do what?”

“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.

“Turtle soup!”

“Now ya did it!” shouts Trump.

“Did what?”

“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?”

“Wait, wait up.” pants Trump. “Ah, ah, oh. I feel like I’m gonna see DeSantis pop out here any second. Ha ha.”

“Don’t worry about that, Donald,” says Arnold.

“Why not?” ask Donald fearfully,

Well, he was killed when you were gone, wherever it was you went.”

“Killed how?”

“Well, there was this parent teacher conference. A lot of the parents had lost their little ones. And… I can’t even talk about it. Just move you fucker!” bellows Arnold.

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.”

“Oh those 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 except for one with an especially bad hairdo. He turns the corner and

“Rand, that you, brother?”

“Mister, President! How’ve you been, sir? says zombie Rand Paul saluting, Spicer’s severed head dangling from his other hand.

Trump says, trying to sound brave, “I, ah… Touched that you’re worried about me, Rand. Even,even, even though you’re a, a, ah.”

“A what?” says Rand Paul as he casually takes a huge bite out of Sean Spicer’s shocked severed head.

“Uh, um, ah… flesh eating zombie,” blurts Trump.

“I’m no a zombie. I’m a God fearing patriot!” slobbers zombie Rand Paul, wiping blood from his mouth with his tattered suit sleeve.

“Yay freedom?” offers Trump feebly, eyeing a pathway to safety.

“Yes, sir! Freedom to experiment on myself. I am an eye doctor! So I see all, Donald! Why, I’m the new proto-human! One bite and you’re one of us, Donald!

Trump is cornered. He slides to the floor in a fetal position, sucking his thumb.

Be –” BANG! Arnold blows a hole Rand Paul’s chest — “free!”

But zombie Rand Paul keeps coming for Trump. “Free not to mask!” BANG! Arnold blows off Paul’s right leg.

“Free not to vax!” BANG! Arnold blows off Paul’s left arm.

But Paul keeps hopping for Trump who shrieks in terror as Paul shouts, “FREEDOM!

“Time for your headshot, Senator Randedsivir! Smile!”

Arnold blows off zombie Rand’s head, finally bringing the zombie spreader down at Trump’s orange shoes.

“Well, one thing for certain Senator Paul has shown me.”

“What? says Trump as he barfs in Arnold’s face.

“Stupid is hard to kill. A blessing for you, President Exorcist,” says President Schwarzenegger as he wipes Trump vomit from his face.

“Congrats traitor, you offed another hero of the right,” groans Trump.

“Hero?!”

“No one, except me, did more to free the people from the tyranny of masking and vaxxing, than Rand fucking Paul!”

“Ingrate. How many fucking times must I rescue you from your GQP of the damned?”

“The truth, Arnold, why the hell do you keep you saving me?”

“Waste of breath to to seek to explain what being a good president means to someone like you.”

“You’re not the real president, immigrant! I am!” shouts Trump, trying to mean it.

“President? You’re nothing but a deluded method actor whose believes his own fictions, Donald,” says Arnold, beyond.

“Phony. You’re a Nazi at heart, Arnold. Admit it!”

President Schwarzenegger ignores Trump to ponder a series of five doors the duo has reached, labeled in neon with the years 2020 though 2024. The sound of the Trumpies near as Arnold shouts, “Your voters are coming! Pick a door, Donald!”

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 if he ever shows up from Antarctica.” 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.

“Stand back and stand by, baby!” says Trump proudly.

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 2023 door and comes face to face with a surgically masked Dr. Fauci who says, “Hi Mr. Former President. Just spitballing here but maybe you’re really in the ICU, having a Covid nightmare, driven by guilt over the death of millions.”

“Fuck you, Fauci. I don’t do guilt!” Trump slams the 2023 door in Fauci’s face.

“You comin’?” says Trump to Arnold.

“We’re already in 2022.”

“Think positive. Picture a zombie free MAGA 2022,” snarls Trump as he yanks open the 2022 door and comes face to face with a fat zombie Mike Pence who croaks, “Donald?”

“Mikey? Haha. Mikey, man! So good to see you, buddy,” says Trump hiding his terror with a cough.

“The insurrection. Why did you send the Trumpies 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?”

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 (NEXT DRAFT RENAMED: THE DESERT SICKNESS)

A big thanks once again to my talented wife Elizabeth England for playing all the female parts in this 2021 reading. No disrespect to the fallen of Covid intended here. The spread of which has been horrifically fostered by rampant disinformation by social media influencers, Fox News and its right-wing imitators. America and the world must wake up to the dangers of the variants. Taken here to the extreme of a zombie apocalypse.

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 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!  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.

Donate for the Coolest in stories and meditation.

Click TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM in the menu bar top of the page to read all your chapters. Be good, little Trumpies. Be good.

7 Years of Robin Williams Visitations

Seven years ago the world lost one of it greatest actors and comedians of our time when Robin Williams chose to take his own life. The devastating news came without any sort of clear warning signals. A public outcry of grief and mourning erupted across the world that had not seen since the shocking death of Princess Diana.

Last week my wife and I had coffee with Robin, at least as my writer’s brain, happening for seven years now, likes to envision his brilliant light still shinning from the afterlife. Over java I asked Robin’s spirit what he thinks of our Covid crisis and here’s what I imagine he had to say on the matter.

Hey Groovy Gals and Guys,

Holy shit. This would all be funny if it were not so damn tragic, folks. People are literally dying because politicians, my brother and sisters in the media and regular people on social media are fabricating stories. All in a feeble effort to make them seem more important than they actually are with more clicks and eyes. In the end this toxic BS is simply to sell everything from donations to snake oil cure to tennis shoes to precious metals to crypt o-currencies.

Worst part is it done by appealing to the worst in human nature; a crusty old white man who lives in fear in our noggins. It’s gross gross negligence to plant fear in people’s hearts on a money-making scale never seen or felt before.

Now, I am sure many of you who were fans of my movies did not like every damn thing I acted in. You only watched the ones you liked, right? GOODWILL HUNTING over MAN OF THE YEAR (MOTY) let’s say. MOTY being one of my films that should have worked that didn’t. In fact, if you judged my career based on MOTY you mot not be here.

Treat all the Tuckers, Johnsons, Bezoses, Hannitys the same way. You are the master of your own story-verese. You pick and choose your reality. Take a pinch of reality from the blue and a spritz from the red. Stay balanced in a unbalanced AF world.

Time to stop listening the BS artists. Truth is love. Be smart. Get vaccinated.

Love, Robin

King of the Star Fish Nation

Robin’s kidding about the king thing But I do still see my vision of Robin — likely just a part of my beautiful imagination as I can’t bare he left us so soon — is reincarnated as a starfish. The starfish nation is a a nueral network for the planet Robin has explained to me.

Shameless plug. Read my far out sci-fi comedy set in another universe, Trump’s Fever Dream, using the pull-down menu above to access all 12, and counting, chapters. If I lifted your spirits please make a donation to keep more Williams visitations, new TFD chapters and cool cold style radio show audio coming.

Donate for the Coolest in stories and meditation.

Trump’s Fever Dream – Chapter 4 Redux – Dancing With Spicer and Schwarzenegger

Greetings from the road in Denver. My wife Elizabeth and I, plus our rescue dog, are on the homestretch of a love-packed race across America to reconnect with friends and family before the anti-maskers and anti-vaxers, rapidly spreading the Delta variant, shut down America again. So, it seems oddly appropriate to post my rewrite of my April 2020 Chapter 4 at a break in the journey home.

TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM is set in a dark comedic alternate universe, where another Trump caught Covid about 6 months before our own Big Lie fostering leader. A stupid occurrence in our parallel reality that no one had to be psychic to predict.

This grotesque alternate Trump-iverse, just one timeline away, is set in the year 2020 and time travels to the year 2022. Curious what the hell I mean? Read chapters 1-3 to understand better my BACK TO THE FUTURE meets INCEPTION kind of mind-bending science fiction back-story, or just plow on. All chapters are written to stand alone if that’s your preference.

The Covid death toll of this even scarier reality, where we reach a civil war by chapter 12 — read that in the pull down menu above — has reached 3 million and counting. Tragically, like our reality, Trump takes no responsibility for his abysmal handling of Covid.

In fact, both Hitler-loving Trumps seem to thrive on how the virus tends to kill off more Black people, while it divides the rest of us suckers and losers, as he sees all Americans. But, that’s all about to change for alternate reality Trump in chapter 4 when Covid mutates into a zombie apocalypse.

Warning, violent explicit content ahead when many GQP heroes of this alternate universe, like Ted Cruz, Mitch McConnell, Christie Noem, Tucker Carlson, and more, go full zombie and make the dumbass mistake of attacking President Arnold Schwarzenegger.

We now join…

Chapter 4 Redux – Dancing With Spicer and 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 and spiffed up in his favorite blue power suit, complete with his clownishly long red tie. He’s 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!

Screen Shot 2021-06-05 at 11.14.09 AM

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 his 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 Schwarzenegger stepped in,” says Vice President Christie.

“Are you saying, Mr Vice President, that President Schwarzenegger 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 away 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.”

“Shit.”

“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!”

Screen Shot 2021-06-30 at 5.21.50 PM.png

“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.

“Do what?”

“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.

“Turtle soup!”

“Now ya did it!” shouts Trump.

“Did what?”

“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?”

Featured Image -- 14985

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.

Donate for the Coolest in stories and meditation.

Click TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM in the menu bar top of the page to read all your chapters. Be good, little Trumpies. Be good.

Share this:

Trump’s Fever Dream – Chapter 2 – The White HospitalApril 7, 2020In “coolest meditation ever”

Trump’s Fever Dream – Chapter 1 Redux – The Loneliest White HouseJune 13, 2021In “coolest meditation ever”

Trump’s Fever Dream – Chapter 1 – The Loneliest White HouseApril 3, 2020In “coolest meditation ever”bleachBrett KavenaughCoronaVirusDancing with the StarsGinsbergGorsuchGovenor CuomoHillary ClintonIvankaJaredSean SpicerTrumpTrumpiesZombies

Post navigation

Previous Trump’s Fever Dream – Chapter 3 – Hate is a VirusNext Meditations on Four News Cycles Leading to Today’s Madness

One thought on “Trump’s Fever Dream – Chapter 4 – Dancing With Spicer & Schwarzenegger”

  1. Ken Sheetz Reblogged this on Coolest Meditation Ever and commented: Yes, I began writing about Trump catching the virus in an alternate universe months before it happened. Predictably science is a bitch. Don’t be part of Trump’s cautionary tale. Wear a mask and social distance. Like Reply

Leave a Reply

Gravatar

Ken Sheetz: You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Notify me of new comments via email.

Notify me of new posts via email.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed. https://widgets.wp.com/follow/index.html#href=dreamshieldplanetarymeditations.com&lang=en&blog=14798392

Meditate a Cooler Tomorrow

Get Our Amazon DVD

Social

Top Posts & Pages

Search for:

Trump’s Fever Dream – Chapter 12 – Smoke & Mirrors

Old Style Radio Show Audio (That’s Voice Acting, Sound Effects & Musical Scoring for your added enjoyment)

How you holding up on this Trump fever dream in this reality? Here in the real world, at least to us, it’s Memorial Day weekend and the GOP has fallen so low that its main spokespeople are the disgraced Congressman Matt Gaetz and Q-Anon Barbie, as MSNBC’s Joy Reid correctly dubbed her. The GOP has voted against a January 6th commission even after fallen Capitol police office Brian Sicknick’s bereaved mother pleaded with the few Republicans who would even hear her cry for justice.

Democrat traitors Joe Manchin and Kirsten Sinema have dashed hopes to end the.. I could go on ad nausem. Suffice to say, we are sadly not far off on my fictional story here. A story I began in April 2020 that, among other strange parallels, correctly predicted that Trump would catch the Covid virus. This dark tale has taken over my peaceful mediation blog like Trump’s dark energy has taken over so much of America. But I go on in the hopes this can act as cautionary tale of what could happen if Trump regains the reins of power.

We now join the alternate Trump universe…

Chapter 12 – Smoke & Mirrors

Meanwhile one timeline away… when we last visited the alternate Trump universe,Trump’s harebrained insurrection succeeded in a wonky as hell overthrow of the rightful US government.

A gruesome house to house battle, dubbed The Blue Civil War, erupted to put the rightful President, Joe Biden, into the Oval office. And has so far cost 404,626 American lives, on top of the 3 million death count in the Covid that’s gone of control in the civil war.

Smoke billows on the White House lawn. Robert tosses Trump aboard Marine One and turns to give an insulate bow to the pissed off swat team.

“Fuck!” shouts the swat team leader who watches helplessly along with dozens of white soldiers as the chopper lifts off into the DC night sky… and EXPLODES!

Sirens blare as the fiery twisted wreckage Marine One crashes into the Washington Monument.

Meanwhile, 200 feet below the surface of Lake Michigan, amidst the floating bodies of the dead strategic bomber crew, a 24 hour countdown clocks lights up on the North Korean nuke.

Stars wheel over Lake Michigan. Sunrise shifts red to orange, making Trump more orange than usual. Water dowses Trump. He snaps to consciousness gasping for air and squints open his bloodshot eyes.

Robert tightens the ropes that bind the disheveled Trump to a tattered baby blue vinyl stacking chair. Robert stands before the dirt streaked picture window of the South Shore Yacht Club. He says, “Morning, Mr. Fake President.”

“Fuck you, Black Judas. This sure as hell ain’t heaven. So where the fuck am I?” says Trump, trying to sound tough while almost pissing his pants at the sight of three dozen heavily armed African American troopers surrounding him in the center of the fire damaged yacht club.

“About 30 miles east of the North Korean nuke, on the coast of the state you lost by 20,600 votes.”

“Wisconsin?”

“Agh!” says Robert imitating a game show buzzer. “Congratulations, SIR. You just admitted you lost Wisconsin on YouTube live to 80 million viewers!”

Everyone laughs, except the scowling Trump. One of soldiers waves his cell phone Camera at Trump, flashing the V for victory hand signal to the audience for an on camera moment.

“Last thing I remember was you tossing me into Marine One. And then — How’d you get me here?” demands Trump.

“Smoke and mirrors. Or, said another way none of your God Damn business, you ugly racist fucker,” growls Robert.

Playing good cop, Michelle Obama calmly takes a stacking chair. She faces the wet and rattled Trump to the excited mutterings of the troops. Michelle serenely says, “Donald, shame on you for calling tactical nuke strike on Kenosha.”

“You mean Geroge Floydland. That’s what you jungle bunnies renamed Kenosha,” says Trump, getting his racist freak on. “And I would never call a nuclear strike against the American people. That’s bullshit!”

“Play the video,” says Michelle, unable to hide the disgust in her face.

Video plays on on large screen television of Trump in the Oval office.

“My fellow, Trumptopians, in this vicious sneak attack, Blue forces led by the evil Barack Obama, murdered my… my brave boy Don Jr. in cold blood. This is personal now! Therefore, Obama the puppet master, and his puppet Biden, have left me no choice but to order, herewith, a tactical nuclear strike on George Floydland, formerly known as Kenosha Wisconsin,” says Trump on TV before his image freezes

“Ha! The problem with you communist ANTIFAs is you can’t tell a good deep fake video from the real thing. I’d never call in a nuclear strike on American soil, even in a traitorous Blue state,” says Trump.

The Black soldiers all boo. “Play nice, Donald. A lot of Barrack’s troops want to hang you from that yard arm right there, ” says Michelle pointing to a docked sail boat.

After the troops yelling calms Trump says. with a shit eating grin, “I’ll be 75 next month. Led an amazing life. The best life. You wanna make me a martyr for the Right? Go ahead.”

“Huh. Don’t you need a soul to be a martyr, Donald?” wisecracks Robert. The troops chuckle.

“Let’s cut to the chase. Our intelligence, from one of your loyal leakers, says you have the codes to disarm Kim’s nuke set to go off… ” Michelle checks her watch,”… in about 10 hours.”

“Suck my dick, you black bitch,” says Trump defiantly. One of the soldiers lunges for Trump and Robert shoves him back in line.

“I don’t do mushrooms. Give me the abort code right now and you walk.” says Michelle calmly to the laughs of the Robert and the troops.

“I’d rather die in the nuclear tsunami and take all of you fuckers with me,” bluffs Trump.

“So you acknowledge there is a bomb. That’s a start,” smiles Michelle victoriously to the applause of the troops.

Trump scowls as says, ever the fast one on his feet conman, “Of course. But I didn’t put the nuke there!”

“Well, if you didn’t put the nuke down there who did, Donald?” says Michelle calmly.

Robert pipes up, “Save it, Madame Former First Lady. I already know what this orange motherfucker’s gonna say anyway.”

“Oh?” say Trump and Michelle in embarrassed unison.

“Madame –” says Robert.

“Michelle.” says Michelle.

“Michelle, this lying sack shit’s gonna say Barrack put the ticking nuke at the bottom of Lake Michigan,” says Robert.

“Black Bingo!” laughs Trump

“And why exactly would my love want to send a 200 foot tall radioactive tsunami to hit Milwaukee? Our strongest base in the Midwest?”

‘Because the death of 1 million Milwaukeeans from would turn public sentiment against me!” gloats Trump.

“Donald, Donald, Donald. I think we learned years ago, under your illicit Russian-backed presidency, that there’s pretty much nothing you can do, including mass murder — like you did with your malicious and incompetent as hell handling of Covid, killing three million Americans and counting — that will ever turn your cult against you,” says Michelle to the sad mutterings of the Obama troops.

“I love all Americans. Even those in the deluded Blue states, says Trump turning on the charm to the boos of the troops. “Why I’ve done more for Black people than any president in history. Maybe ever including Lincoln!”

Robert backhands Trump mid-sentence, “Save it, Trump,” barks Robert. “We want the nuke abort code from your pen pal KIm Jung Fucking Un and we want it now!”

“You already have the codes because your Black despot dropped the nuke.” says Trump cockily.

A young female Black soldier takes aim at Trump’s head, “I can’t take his bullshit! Gotta waste this fat fuck!”

Robert stands between the soldier on Donald and says, “Put down the gun, kid.”

“Move aside, Colonel! Or I I swear to God I’ll shoot you to kill Cheetoh Jesus!”

“Colonel?” laughs Trump.

Robert ignores Trump and walks up the the soldier’s rifle muzzle. Robert lays his hand on AR-15 and pushes it down to point at the filthy blue carpet.

“Dummies. I’ll be rescued long before that nuke you planted ever goes off,” gushes Trump.

“You won’t be here that long, you dumb as fuck motherfucker,” says Robert pistol whips Trump, knocking him out cold.

A big sail boat glides from the Milwaukee shoreline, quickly vanishing in the distance, Trump squirms as a hangman’s noose is placed around his fat neck by Robert. “Give us the abort code and save your fat ass, Donnie,” whispers Robert.

“Ha! You’re bluffing! I know you, Robert! You’re bluffing!” shouts Trump.

“This is not one of our poker games I let you cheat at, Donald” says Robert.

“Ingrate. After all I did for you.”

“Ha. You never did a damn thing for me that wasn’t meant to help yourself, you pathetic loser. I am gonna enjoy watching the life choke out of you the way you let the life choke out of so many, including my grandma, Dr. Covid.”

“The codes and we sail you to a safe harbor, Mr. Former President,”says Michelle calm and cool as ever.

“Ha. You think you’re safe from my my fly boys out here, woman? Any second a Black Hawk’s going to come over the horizon and save me from you fools,” says Trump.

“Wong answer, Bozo. Ma’am let’s get this over with.” says Robert hitting Trump to the applause of the troops.

“Any last words, you orange devil?” says Michelle sadly.

“I won. Then election was a total fraud, like you, you Black cunt,”Trump growls.

Michelle shakes her head sadly and walks below deck.

“That’s it?! That all you got, you worthless Nigger?!” bellows Trump.

Robert kicks Trump off the sailboat. Trump swings from the yard arm choking before the cheering Troops. He chokes the words, “Just my fever dream. I’ll be ok…”

Trump passes out.

TO BE CONTINUED IN TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM – CHAPTER 13

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 for that matter the supposed good guys in this dark comedic tale.

A big thanks to my wife Elizabeth England who played the Cosmic butterfly in earlier episoded and who takes on the important of Michelle Obama, for a fellow white person. Sorry we’re just doing scratch audio here. I will at some point, hopefully, get some great Black actors to replace us.

Make a donation to help me keep bring you more chapters and add audio. Thanks.

Donate for the Coolest in stories and meditation.

Click the TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM in the menu bar above to read all the chapters.

Trump’s Fever Dream – Chapter 10 – A Bitter Cheese

12:55 minute reading by Ken Sheetz that asks: What if the 1/6/21 insurrection had succeeded?*

Meanwhile, when we last visited the alternate Trump universe, one timeline away… Trump’s harebrained insurrection succeeded in a wonky as hell overthrow of the rightful US government. This sadly happened through the sheer blind luck of Pelosi and Pence both taking wrong turns on the run on January 6th, ending in both being taken hostage by the rag tag white supremacist led insurrectionists.

A gruesome house to house battle, dubbed The Blue Civil War, erupted to put the rightful President Biden into the Oval office, has so far cost 256,234 American lives.

Looking to raise quick cash for a boost in the polls to bless his proposed launch tactical nukes on Blue states, Trump enlists the help of a Marjorie Taylor Greene for crowd funder to raise $5 billion to knock out her mythical Jewish space laser. We now join…

TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM – CHAPTER 10 – A BITTER CHEESE

Trump shows General Marjorie Greene Taylor, the new Speaker of the House, to the paneled door of the oval office saying, “Much as I love you, Margie, I don’t want to see your face again until you have the $5 billion!” Before Taylor can complain, Trump slams the door in her face.

Nestled in the blue yellow sofa, My Pillow Guy, Mike Lindell, the newly minted Secretary of Defense and Pillow Production Czar, reports to Trump on progress in Blue Civil War. He speaks fast, like he’s ripping off a band-aid, “Sadly, we’ve lost Illinois to the Sleepy Joe forces, sir.”

“What about Wisconsin?” demands Trump.

“The Battle of George Floydland was — ”

“George Floydland?!” shouts Trump.

“F.K.A. Kenosha Wisconsin, sir,” nervously answers Secretary Lindell. “Confusing, I know, because Minnesota is where Floyd was –“

“Do I look confused?” says Trump getting up in Lindell’s dumb as dirt puss.

“Of course not, sir!”

“I know where that counterfeit passing snake Floyd was choked out! Spades wanna name part of Wisconsin after a dead loser Minnesotan that’s their fucking funeral. Bigger question: How did that useless cheese head Johnson blow the 2-1 military advantage I gave him?” says Trump firmly pushing the button on his resolute desk to call for a Diet Coke.

“You’re in luck , sir! My film team from ABSOLUTE PROOF has whipped up a new doc about it and it’s already up on Trump TV!” says Lindell, doing a little victory dance.

Robert, Trump’s Black body servant, enters at a run, delivers Trump’s Diet Coke. Robert avoids making any eye contact with the hand waving Lindell.

“You put a fucking documentary about my brave Trumptopia troops losing to Obama on my TV station without my OK?” barks Trump.

Robert stumbles as he quickly exits to avoid Trump tantrum fallout.

Lindell fumbles with the big screen remote. He nervously says, “Sir, ahem, CNN and MSNBC have their version of the story coming out on the Battle of George Floydland premiering tonight. I had to move fast so that you’re the first one to tell the story. You know to slant it your way, of course. Ha ha. Knew you’d OK that since you are the genius chosen one after all!”

“Secretary Lindell… I saw on Fox News that you were broke and homeless. So how’d you afford making a movie with a 24 hour time –”

“Look, Donnie boy, I know you still watch Fox, because you’re personally keeping an eye on the enemy. But that junk will rot your –“

“Fair warning, I don’t like this rushed as fuck doc you’re with Pelosi, executed on Trump TV LIVE tomorrow at dawn!” barks Trump, cleaning a speck of lint off his banana Republic uniform.

Wiping sweat from his brow Lindell hits play and he says, “Narrated it myself.”

“Shut the fuck up and let me watch!” grouses Trump, already annoyed by the opening title.

A Bitter Cheese – Defeat in George Floydland (F.K.A. Kenosha, Wisconsin)

Documentary style footage plays as Lindell ham-narrates:

House to house combat raged for weeks in America’s dairy state. Troops led by former president Barrack Obama are on the march south from the Biden won city of Milwaukee.

Trumptopia’s Supreme Commander, aside from President Trump, Don Jr., confers beneath the fire scorched Kenosha Brat Stop sign with General/Senator Johnson, who for some dumb reason demands both titles as General Senator — Seriously, if this titty bar loving cheese dick slept better he’d have had a much clearer head for the battle he was about to lose for our heroic leader Donald the Chosen One Trump, all powerful President of Trumptopia FKA the USA.

For a dreamy night’s sleep visit MyPillowGuy.com!

“Fuck’s sake! Is this an My Pillow infomercial or God damn news story?” comments Trump imperiously.

Lindell hits pause. “Sir, we’ll edit my little pillow plug out ASAP. Let’s go on, sir. There’s some things in here you’re going to want to see firsthand,” Lindell quickly hits play again.

Lindell’s narration continues: And so, because many in the US Armed Forces are sitting out the Blue Civil War out, the hand to hand civilian combat showdown of the 21st century was at hand.

Lindell hits “pause” on the remote and says proudly, “Like the poetic thing I did with the hands? Classy huh?”

Trump just glares at the My Pillow putz who quickly hits the “play” button in response.

First to fall were the obese of both the red and blue civilian troops, causing some smart asses on the rogue app Twitter to dub this The Battle of the Second Battle of the Bulge. Although the bloodiest civil war since the Civil War of Lincoln’s Day, it has proven to be a chance to lower our obesity health index for the first time in 50 years.

The game was afoot. The sneaky Black former failed President versus our heroic great white Hope’s son of our stable genius president Donald John Trump, Don Jr., was accompanied by his operatic battle crier Colonel Guilfoyle .

Both of them clad in golden armor, astride the white stallions recalled the great days of Roman rule. All looks promising as General Senator Ron Johnson joins the Trumptopian troops in his cheddar cheese colored armored tank to draw final battle plans.

“General Johnson.” says Don Jr imperiously while Johnson lifts open the hatch on his tank.

“With all due respect that’s General/Senator Ron Johnson, Junior!”

“Oh, get off it, Ron. We’re about to go into battle. Let’s keep it short shall we?” grouses Guilfoyle.

“I outrank you and outgun you, little missy,” says Johnson laughing as his tank turret playfully takes aim at her and Don Jr.

Don Jr. fast draws his pearl handled pistol and blows the smile from Johnson’s face along with his head.

The cameraman shouts off-screen, “Holy fuck!”

Don Jr. smiles for the camera, “Command is all about respect. And –“

“Donnie! Come on you wuss! We gotta battle to win!” shouts Guilfoye.

“Later, fans. After Kimberly and I kick some Kenyan BLM ass! Yee ha!” shouts Don Jr. as he rears up his stallion and follows Guilfoyle. The two look amazing charging into battle until…

BOOM! The duo vanish in a massive explosion.

“Stop! Don Jr. is dead?” shouts Trump.

Lindell hits pause and says consolingly, “Along with Colnel Guilfoyle and most of our brave Wisconsin Trumptopia troops. Sorry for your loss, sir”

“My son was a damn fool not using Johnson cheesy tank. But, hey, I’ll put on a show of grief. Should inspire some donors,” says Trump.

Lindell looks for any sign of grief from the stone faced Trump and then says, “Brilliant as always, sir! Now, if you don’t mind, I’m on Fox in five minutes to discuss the film.”

“No. I’ll take the Fox interview myself.”

“It’s really no trouble, sir,” offers Lindell, clutching one of his crappy pillows for security.

“I said I will take the interview. No one’s lost more in this battle than me. My firstborn.” says Trump with a fake sniffle.

“But may I start the Fox interview and turn it over to you? Makes you more sympathetic.” says Lindell hopefully,

“Hmm. We can do that. But make it quick.”

“Great. Follow me. I’ve got the Fox setup in my office.” says Lindell, pointing the way with a gracious bow.

“No. This interview will be done from here in the oval,” demands Trump

“But it’s all set up in my office and there’s not time to — Of course. Of course.” Lindell barks into his phone. “Get the Fox crew over to the oval.”

A short time later Trump listens as Secretary Lindell makes the intro to the Fox cameras.

“Our Donald may have lost a son… but he still has all of you fine citizens of Trumptopia as his children. My fellow My Pillow fans, I give you the chosen one, our true President, Donald John Trump,” says Lindell with sweep of his hand that messes up Trump’s hair. Everyone holds their breath for Trump’s furious reaction. But Trump does not notice his hair is askew, revealing a bald pate as he speaks to the camera:

My fellow, Trumptopians, in a vicious sneak attack, Blue forces led by the evil Barack Obama, murdered my… my brave boy Don Jr. in cold blood. This is personal now! Therefore, Obama the puppet master and his puppet Biden have left me no choice but to order, herewith, a tactical nuclear strike on George Floydland, FKA Kenosha Wisconsin.

I know it seems horrible as such an attack will kill red and blue soldiers and civilians alike. But the Pentagon estimates this ultimate shock and awe attack will end the Blue Civil War years ahead of conventional hand to hand fighting. Thus saving millions of American lives at the sacrifice of approximately half a million Wisconsinites.

Fear not! To reduce civilian casualties I am hereby grant the next 30 minutes to depart the George Floydland’s blast zone.

Please take your most precious possessions as Kenosha will be radioactive and uninhabitable for the next 35 years. Good news that’s half the normal length of radioactivity contamination thanks to our brilliant tactical nukes granted to us by our beloved friend and ally Kim Jung Un. Good night and God Bless Trumptopia.

Fox News cuts to pandemonium on the streets as forces of the left and right fight their way out of Kenosha. It’s a blood bath.

The camera lights go off and Trump smiles proudly at the stunned camera crew and a speechless Secretary Lindell.

“How was I?” asks Trump calmly.

Fox cameraman wearing a Trumptopia T-Shirt gushes, “Trumptopia’s behind you, sir!”

“I’m really trying to keep casualties low yet send a message of compassion. Fucking tightrope act,” says Trump loosening his red tie. Not to mention the chance to catch Obama sleeping with a nuke.”

“3 D chess once again, sir!” says the Fox cameraman.

“What’s your name, kid? You have a future on Trump TV.” says Trump shaking the cameraman’s hand in the dominant style Trump is famed for.

“But I have a major My Pillow distribution center in Kenosha,” the shocked Lindell finally says.

Trump checks his watch and says, “Um, not 28 minutes.”

A strategic bomber glides the starry skies over Lake Michigan beneath the full moon. In the bomber cockpit a heated argument rages between the pilot and co-Pilot.

“Orders are orders!” shouts the pilot.

“Not when the fucking order is to nuke a city on American soil for a delusional illegitimate president!” bellows the co-pilot.

Pilot and co-pilot both reach for their pistols. BANG!

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 11 – TO NUKE OR NOT TO NUKE KENOSHA THAT IS THE QUESTION

*As always my little disclaimer that this is of course a work of pure fiction about an alternate universe. It is in no way a true reflection the kind and compassionate Donald J Trump, and his cohorts or for that matter the good guys in this dark comedic telling, the Biden bunch. But I hope it makes you feel a little better about the weird as hell times we are still lost in.

Donate for the Coolest in stories and meditation.

Meditating on the Big Picture Behind the BIG LIE

Audio: Meditating on the Big Picture Behind the Big Lie

In these menacing times it’s helpful to meditate on the big picture to regain some sense of objectivity. I needed a meditation to settle me down after a disturbing dip of my toe into the Monday night news about the cesspool that was the Nazi odal staged CPAC 2021. A strange, almost occult event, complete with a golden idol Trump and fueled by our ever more fascist GOP, filled with Trump wannabe liars.

Separated at birth, Big Boy and Trump Statues

I took some deep breaths to launch myself into meditation, closed my weary eyes and began to visualize the evolution of the human race, all the way from its early primitive cave people beginnings up to the troubling Q-soaked mind control times of today. A somber time where nearly half the US population is still enraged and enslaved by the dangerous BIG LIE that the Dems stole the election from Trump.

Some of us are trying to move on from the Trump era of arrogant incompetence and mean spirited thought, word and deed. I love Biden’s work 6 weeks into his presidency. But I am frustrated that so many of my fellow Yanks are clinging to the old ways of a GOP I believe is already dead. Living in the Trump BIG LIE reality unfortunately leaves many of my friends stuck in Q inspired racism, entwined in wilful spread of Covid, and knee-deep more karmic awfulness than George Orwell could imagine.

As a builder of skyscrapers and a maker of movies, I know firsthand that all things begin with imagining. Last night I yearned to imagine answers to the big picture behind the BIG LIE. And so I set my vivid imagination to workless work.

I began to visualize, as if from deep planetary orbit, our blue world spinning and spiraling through space time. The curve of humanity’s negative traits and positive traits presented themselves as a wild mesh of blue and red strands of energy. Thin blue and red lines streaked along the path of earth’s trajectory within this galaxy and our Milky Way galaxy in a glorious dance of the cosmos.

Now the visualization meditation took on a life of its own. Indeed, it was, as it often is for me, it seemed as though the universe was revealing something profound. Somehow this unfolding epiphany allowed me to let go of seeing the blue and red as good versus evil. Instead I witnessed the web of human lifetimes simply as primitive thinking versus evolved thinking. Borrowing from Biden recent neanderthal comments concerning Texas Governor Abbott’s dropping mandatory mash wearing as the pandemic still rages.

The lines of primitive thinking, represented in red by (Who else?) Trump, were energized by the people who love him, at the core, for his being a cunning yet not bright, racist. Lines of the blue higher consciousness reality swirled in space time among the stars as a lighter and hipper energy more in tune with my frequency of which I wish to be a part.

I watched the human wave of consciousness expand from its tiny prehistoric origins blossom into the vast bundles of blue and red lifeline threads of today’s harrowing reality. Then I saw that humankind stands at a great fork in reality. In the blue fork of reality, humankind ascends into a space faring race that populates the stars, emerging after eons as a species immortal through exploration of space and our own diversity. But in the other fork, the red dominated one, humankind does not even master this single world that we’ve been gifted by the universe. And sadly in a relatively short span of time from 2021 humanity’s beautiful time lines all end in our species’ extinction for a number of idiotic self-destructive reasons.

I observed all this sorrow without forgetting to remain relaxed and to keep breathing deeply. Then something wonderful, in a weird way, arose my vision. The shorter red Trumpian dominated timeline bent into a loop where alpha and omega met and humankind’s collective life force rode the entire rise and fall of humanity over and over. All of this beauty experienced each time as new personas.

And so the finite red timeline evolved from Trumpism had it’s own form of immortality, expressed as looped lifetimes. Now I visioned there were two primary ways for humanity to exist infinitely. Each valid for it’s own kind, those who cling to the past and those who look forward to the future.

I slowly opened my eyes, gradually coming back to this reality. The TV was playing Wonder Woman 1984. The fireplace filled our living room with warmth and orange light. My beautiful wife Elizabeth was sound asleep on the couch, snoring lightly. My rescue dog Lincoln was cozy-ed up to me in my easy chair. I continued not to judge either fork in the human wave of timelines that my mind saw as diverging as either right or wrong. I felt blessed that the universe provides infinite possibly via the quantum physics of the multi-universe.

A deep sense of gratitude and relaxation washed over me. And then I gave myself and perhaps the world a gift… I let go of the loop Trump universe and all it represents. You see, I prefer to go forward to the reality timeline where the human wave populates the stars. A bigger joy awaits us all there.

Peace to all realities.

No, Biden and Trump Did Not Switch Faces

Video and Audio of the Blog!

NO BIDEN AND TRUMP DID NOT SWITCH FACES

The title of this week’s blog (one month post-insurrection) is in response to the latest desperate attempt by Q to maintain its stranglehold on the hearts and minds of far too many gullible Americans. Q’s mind-fuck story this week? Trump and Biden have switched faces!

Q is quite simply the biggest mind control attack ever propagated on a civilian populace. And it’s frustrating as hell Q is still fucking with us without being arrested. Not my idea of freedom.

My theory is that Q was created in desperation to build a bigger base of white power. This violent, yet invisible, attack on a large segment of the American populace, vulnerable from its own sense of white privilege, was stabbed into the heart of our country through a full frontal media/advertising attack and via a sneak attack, deployed through weapons grade memes, videos and bot postings all on unregulated social media.

Spitballing freely, here are some of my wild-assed ideas of how we got into this fucking mess where nearly half the country is still lost to Q and its racist variants. Hey, the dark side doesn’t have an exclusive on theoretical BS. Well, here goes:

1. Racist Trump rose to power in the highest office in the land with help from a racist GOP. We’re all weary as AF right now because, not only we have we avoided a civil war by the skin of our teeth, but we are also fighting the remnants of Trump’s deadly herd immunity scheme. A scheme that, to my painful observation, rapidly evolved into a bio weapon when Jared learned Covid kills 3 times as many Blacks as whites.

2. Power drunk business person(s) rose to Bond-villain multi-billionaire status and used Trump as their front man. There have never been so many white oddball billionaires as now and the list is growing. Some racist player may have thought, ‘Hey, it’s cool to manipulate people to buy my rotten shit like reality TV and slave labor made tennis shoes. So why not demo the hell out of my less intelligent brother and sister whites and enslave those suckers and losers to hate and division? Divide and conquer!

3. Fact: Religion’s influence has been diminishing for decades. So might it make some sense that religious leaders might desperate enough to reverse decline by seeking to reinvent itself? It then doubles down on the magical thinking they foster in the church every Sunday. All to recruit more believers and remain in power. See THE FAMILY on Netflix to understand the huge role religion played in putting Trump in power and Pence as his obsequious as hell VP.

4. Going sci fi: An advanced alien race is harvesting angst consciousness. We sure got a lot of that today. That’d be yummy to a nasty alien consciousness getting it’s rocks off on endlessly fucking with us.

5. Going super high tech: Might the gross manipulation engender a simulated universe for one master conscious AI? All to be able to launch AI super computer realities in the form of an infinite number of lives, patterned after our own on social media?

6. Last, just the good old Ruskies looking to incite a civil war. What a comeuppance. The USA has meddled in toppling governments for a century. Perhaps seeing our Capitol sacked by Nazis might give America pause for future meddling.

You get the idea. Who the hell knows? But without question, someone or some group is fucking with human consciousness in ways we cannot grasp, only theorize about. Our collective angst on this topic has left almost half our country in a self-destructive state of mental illness; still enraged about the BIG LIE that the election was stolen from Trump by the rightfully elected Joe Biden. And watching the assholes in Congress (House) and the Senate fuel this lies in goddamn infuriating.

And no. Biden did not switch faces with Trump. The idiocy of this latest Q drop is that one only need look at the slender build of Biden to compared to the fat stack burger build of the orange deposed wannabe dictator to know its mind control nonsense. GET REAL! This is engineered cognitive dissonance, designed to insert things of the enemy’s choosing into your mind.

If you went down the rabbit hole, you must undo the Q in your life. You were sucked into a Trump cult. Seek help if you need it to break free. Only then might you see there is only one one reality here on the blue planet, one universe which we all enjoy in divergent and creative ways. Time to grow the fuck up and love reality. You’re not a kid anymore.

Consider this an invitation to be a reality proponent. Magical thinking, which I do lots of, is fine if you don’t start to buy your own stories as literal truth. Speaking of which, let’s honor all religions and all faith not as literal fact but as beautiful stories created to help us be better, not worse, people.

Songs of the Soul

The song is the soul and the soul is the song.

The voice is as unique as a fingerprint and no two soul voices are alike. The voice is a frequency of our soul we carry birth to life to death, death to rebirth to life to death and on and on forever.

And when we join our voice as one… we are one.

These are the kind of insights you discover when you fall in love with a Kirtan singer like my beautiful wife Elizabeth, pictured center between me on the left and the great Jai Uttal, who Elizabeth studied under in 2016.

As the elections essentially drag on without the proper concession from Trump, Elizabeth are doing our best to return to our normal lives as meditative philosophers, filmmakers and curators of the cool at CoolestTechEver.com.

For 60 days we devoted ourselves 12 hours a day to the resistance to defeat Trump on Twitter. Elizabeth brought her 17 years of military experience, part of that dealing with psychological operations and mind control to bear in her warnings to the people they were under heavy mind-control attack. Whereas, I focused on my 24 years of political film commentary to make punchy, sometimes comedic anti-Trump videos. Here’s a compilation of the over 100 videos that had over a million impression that I made for the cause of defeating a president more concerned with his own ego than caring for the people..

The work does not end here for us in doing our small part in helping America get back on track as the world’s greatest democracy. Winning Georgia and taking control of the Senate are vital, but we are taking it a lot easier on politics and getting more meditation and kirtan back into the song of our lives.

The song is the soul and the soul is the song.

Donald Trump, Tear Down This Wall!

Trump built a wall all right. A wall of lies and conspiracy theories built by a Russian army of trolls, an enabling GOP and a racist fan base. All decidedly UN-American. So if Regan — who I am proud to say I voted for despite not being happy with many things Reagan did in office — were here today he would say, “Donald Trump, tear down this wall!”

WHAT MIGHT REAGAN SAY?

Stay positive and stay strong. The amount of mind control that will be thrown at us in the 6 weeks left until the elections will be unprecedented.

Don’t let the RBG seat fight distract you. We saw what the GOP is made of during the impeachment. Remain focused on getting people registered and getting out the vote.

Mail-in is messed up thanks to messy Trump it’s best to wear a mask and vote in person.

Our only recourse is to remain alive despite our super-spreader in chief’s best efforts and vote Biden to save America on November 3rd.

Basics: Time is running out to register. Be sure to make a voting plan as Trump is going to make voting hellish for you otherwise.