Trump’s Fever Dream – Chapter 9 – The Greene Jewish Space Laser New Deal

When we last left our alternate timeline Donald J. Trump and his alternate enablers in Chapter 8, Trumptopia’s orange presidential bad boy was busy selling his BIG LIE that he was cheated out of his rightful second term.

In this dark alternate reality, a series of cautionary political tales I plan to gather into a book, working title Trump’s Fever Dream, the Trump fostered insurrection on the capitol succeeded in overthrowing the rightful government.

There’s just one problem in Trump’s rebranding of the USA he’s dubbed Trumptopia: A Civil War from the left looms. One for which Trump has been unable to access the treasury to prepare for battle.

CHAPTER 9 – THE GREENE JEWISH SPACE LASER NEW DEAL

Trump nervously paces the oval office, wolfing into a Big Mac.

Bannon, Jared and Ivanka wait patiently on the couches as Trump washes the burger down with a noisy gulp of diet Coke. Bannon opens his mouth to speak but Trump holds up his hand and belches. Bannon waits for an “excuse me” that never comes and pushes on, “Mr. President — “

“Mr. President. Wow, love still hearing that. What you were about to say, Steve?” says Trump absentmindedly.

“Um, Mr. President, our brave patriot Trumptopia troops have lost control of three state capitols this week; Maine, Georgia and Arizona. All to bastards loyal the Former United States. As a result we are running low on the basics, ammo, shelter and food,” says the ever more scrubby looking Bannon.

“Damn Putin to hell! The lying louse was supposed to back me up with shock troops, air cover and tactical nukes!” shouts Trump.

“Putin has his own troubles fighting off the Navalny revolution, Daddy,” says Ivanka.

“Swell. I’ll nuke the blue states on my own. What are the polls showing?” says Trump as he mindlessly fidgets with the aluminum pop top tab on his diet Coke.

Bannon fans through his notes and offfers, “Only 33% of our base favors the domestic nuclear option.”

“Get those assholes on Fox cracking! I need 60% approval before I can nuke California! The smug bastard Newsom is going to pay for his wanton slaying of 11,780 brave Trumptopians who perished storming Sacramento!”

“Uh, sir, that’s actually the total you needed to win Georgia. We lost more like 10,000,” says Bannon.

Everyone shouts in unison, “Never forget Sacramento!”

“Jared, you’re the money man. Congress is still a war zone. How do I raise some quick cash to fight these stubborn bastards that old coot Joe Biden and the half-breed Harris are leading to overthrow me?” says Trump pounding his pudgy fist into his meaty palm for emphasis.

“Space Force,” says Jared brightly.

“Space Force?” says a puzzled Trump. “Nah. It’ll be months until the nuclear space platform is at the ready to nuke anything.”

Jared clicks the intercom and softly says, “Send in the new Speaker of the House.”

The paneled door opens and Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, the new speaker, enters. She is dressed in the new Trumptopia military uniform. Her ill-fitting uniform bears an uncanny, though not unexpected, resemblance to the Nazi SS uniform of World War ll. Greene wields an AK-47 recklessly.

“That thing loaded?” asks Trump, trying to sounds brave.

“Of course, sir. DC is still crawling with libtards!” says Greene incredulously.

“Put your damn weapon down!” demands Trump.

“Nope. Here, I’ll just put on the lil’ old safety on my AK, Mr. President,” gushes Greene.

“I said put the god damn weapon DOWN!”

“All due respect. That’s no way to speak to your new Speaker of the House.”

Trump grabs the AK-47 and wrestles with Greene. The AK-47 erupts. Rapid fire cuts off the head of a Trump security guard. Greene finally relents to Trump. Guards cart the headless corpse off as the rattled group climb out of hiding places.

Trump sighs and gingerly stands the smoking gun against the resolute desk and says, “OK, OK, what’s this big idea you had for raising money, Greene? It better be fucking good and it better have nothing the fuck to do with asking for more dough from the My Pillow Guy. We busted that brave patriot. Poor Mikey is homeless.”

“Simple. Let’s have a crowd funder to bring down the Jewish space laser!” says Green brightly.

“But there is no such thing as a Jewish space — Oh, I get it! A new Big Lie!” says Trump, annoyed he did not think of this himself from his expression.

“May I take it from here, Majorie?” asks Jared. Greene’s happily nods. “Mr. President, this is how we reach 60% approval for the domestic nuclear option. Take a look at this iPad.”

Trump yanks the iPad from Jared. Trump’s bloodshot eyes go wide as he reads.

FUNDING GOAL $5 BILLION!

“Renewed weapons grade brainwashing with this kind of budget! I predict your new Destroy the Jewish Space Laser! crowd funder will be the most successful campaign in history, Mr. President!” beams Jared.

“But $5 billion? Aren’t we aiming a little high even for my stupid as hell fan base?” says Trump.

Ivanka pipes up, “No amount of money is too big, Daddy. Fighting the Jewish Space Laser is brave and patriotic. So in character with your mandate as our Christian war chief. What’s a measly $5 billion? You’ll raise 10 billion! You are the chosen one after all.”

“Thanks for seeing my glory, baby!” says Trump grabbing his daughter to him for a hug so amorous that it makes Jared jealous. “Greene, you have my word that I will promote you to 5 star general if your campaign to Destroy the Jewish Space Laser succeeds!”

“But I already have 5 stars, sir.” pouts Greene.

“Six stars then!” boasts Trump.

Mark Meadows pokes his head in the oval office and says,”Sir, it’s time for your fitting for your military outfit. Shall I tell the tailor you’re busy?”

“No, show my tailor in. Oops, watch the pool of blood on the rug there, Mark. Everybody else out. You have a Jewish Space Laser to defeat!”

Greene smiles and says coyly, “Now you’re talking, like my fearsome leader!”

Jared pipes up, “Fearless leader.”

“Nope. Fearsome, as in awesome.” chides Greene.

“Fearless. Fearsome means timid. Google it, you ignorant bitch!” shouts Jared.

Greene dives for her AK-47 and spins on Jared. “I knew the Jew in you was a traitor. Let me shoot him Mr. President!

“No, Margy. Jared’s family. One of the good Jews. Put down the rifle.”

Greene sags and whispers in Trump’s ear, “Never trust a Jew.”

Trump whispers back in Greene’s ear, “Never question my judgement again or you’ll be facing a firing squad.”

As Greene exits she passes Trump’s Jewish tailor who gives her the hairy eyeball.

“What are you looking at, tailor?” grouse Greene intentionally bumping into the old tailor.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” says the tailor bowing dismissively to the enraged Greene.

THE END

Trumptopia’s Fearsome Leader – Artist Unknown

All of the Trump Fever Dream stories are of course purely fictional and not meant to portray the individuals in any real way. It’s been created simply for your reading pleasure and maybe to help you realize just how lucky we might be that Trump has been pushed aside like the old fart he truly is by the voters of this great land; supported the politicians, judges, pundits brave enough to stand up to the Trump incited, or at the very least inspired, January 6th insurrection.

Stay true to yourself and those you love. – Ken Sheetz

No. Biden and Trump Did Not Switch Faces

The title of this week’s blog (sorry, still working on Chapter 9 of TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM where I visualize and alternate “what if” timeline where Trump’s heinous and traitorous insurrection sadly succeeded) 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.

IMHO Q is quite simply the biggest mind control on ever propagated on a populace, likely to get more converts to White Supremacy. My conspirocratic theory to shine the light is that this criminal act was done in desperation to build a bigger world of white privilege base. This in turn created a large segment of the USA more vulnerable through spreading fear of the other, all to be enslaved to the cause of racist- fascism.

The attack happen in two fronts. A full frontal advertising attack and deployed weapons grade mind control and a covert mind control payload delivered via social on a civilian population. Spitballing more ideas how we might have got into this mess we are embroiled in here in the land of the not as free as we think when…

1. A racist like Trump rose to highest office in the land. We’re all weary because we have survived a herd immunity, do as little as possible covid plan that evolved into a bio weapon, likely because Covid kills 3 times as many Blacks as whites. 4 years of 30,000 lies and an insurrection run by this Russian asset at worst or useful idiot at best. But we are not out of the civil war woods if Trump fostered GQP mind control goes on.

2. Power drunk business person(s) rose to Bond-villain multi-billionaire status. So many now and growing. Some player may think it’s if it’s cool to manipulate people to buy shit like reality TV and poorly made tennis shoes, heck, why not enslave them to hate and division? Divide and conquer!

3. Religion seeks to reinvent itself and doubles down on the magical thinking they foster in the church every Sunday by duplicitous evangelicals. 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.

4. Going sci fi: An advanced alien race is harvesting angst consciousness. Yum.

5. Going super high tech: Might the gross manipulation of bio harmonic universe engender a universe for one master conscious AI? All to be able to launch from man-made ultra super computer into infinite number of lives.

6. Last maybe just the good old Ruskies looking to incite a civil war here. The USA has meddled in toppling governments for a century. I hope our seeing our capital sacked by Neo Nazis might give is 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 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 of burger build of the orange deposed wannabe dictator to know its mind control nonsense. GET REAL!

If you went down the rabbit hole, you must undo the Q in your life. You were sucked into a cult. Seek help if you need it to break free. Only then will you can 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 up and love reality. Magical thinking, with I do lots of, is fine if don’t start to buy your own stories as literal truth. Let’s honor all religions not as literal fact but as beautiful stories to help us be better, not worse, people.

Chapter 8 – Trumptopia

Congratulations. If you are an American reading this blog during the final days of the Trumptopia you’re one of the lucky people not to be among the 340,000 to 420,000, depending on who is counting, to sadly and needlessly be killed off by the Corona virus in 2020.

Add to the Trumptopia 2020 shit show the nearly 20 million Americans who were infected by the maskless, feckless, freedom fighters and extra congrats if you’ve not become a long hauler. Happily, not even the ever more seditious GOP can dampen the collective joy over the good news that the mother of all polls, The Gallup, shows Trump’s popularity is falling as Biden’s rises.

All of which inspires me to create a new chapter in my ongoing blog series that began in the spring of 2020 and which might become a novel once I can make the time. Enjoy. (Audio version here.)

TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM – CHAPTER 8 – TRUMPTOPIA

In chapter 7 we left Donald Trump stuck in an alternate timeline reality. One where he was not so lucky as our reality’s Trump, who quickly recovered from Covid. — All to our collective shock given his obesity and unhealthy diet. — The orange dictator wannabe lays secretly intubated in a makeshift hospital room that was once his White House bedroom. While across the hall, the First Lady has been accidentally shot by Steve Bannon.

Melania croaks her last words to Bannon, “Tell Donald I love heem.”

Trump’s fever dream madness dissolves. He blinks his orange raccoon eyes, coming to with a loud gasp in his good old White House bedroom. He mutters in disgust at all the moving boxes that surround his bed.

Screenshot from Comedy Central Video -The President Gets Evicted From the White House

Trump yawns deeply and mumbles to himself, “Knew it. Knew it was all a bad dream when Melania said she loves me.” He turns on TV and is shocked to see Kayleigh McEnany is now a Fox News anchor.

“Morning, Fox viewers. The sad day we’ve all been dreading, January 20th 2021, is here. Despite the heroic efforts of the near unanimous vote of the GOP Congress and GOP Senators, led by GOP rival for McConnell’s throne, Ted Cruz , and a well contained Proud Boy riot on January 6th, one fortunately with no casualties, unless you count their broken hearts, the geriatric Joe Biden will be sworn in at noon today as the unlawful fake president of the not-so-United States of America. We are honored on this, my first day as the new Fox News morning anchor, to welcome the real President of the United States Donald Trump to the show… Uh, sir? Are you there, sir?”

“One sec! Forgot I was going to be on this morning.” shouts Trump as he throws on a robe that is patterned after a king’s gown. “Well, not really forgot. I am sharper than ever. Sharp as… what was I saying?”

The ON AIR sign lights up on the bedroom camera. Now Trump’s gigantic naked bone white ass is all that’s being broadcast live on FOX, which temporarily cuts to a still shot of a well coifed Trump kissing Giuliani.

Trump sweeps empty McDonald’s wrappers off his bed. His orange head a balding Boris Johnson mess, Trump jams on a Lincoln stovepipe top hat over his embarrassing hair and shouts. “Ready, Kayleigh!”

“Mr. President! Ah there you are. Looking very Abe Lincoln too. How, um… nice!” says Kayleigh painting on her famed fake smile.

“Hadn’t heard you were on FOX, Kayleigh,” says Trump coldly.

“Fox made me an offer I could not refuse, sir.”

“Fox is fake news now. I am the REAL president and this whole fake Biden/Harris inauguration thing today is a total sham. Right?” demands Trump.

“Of, of course, Mr. Real President. And I am going to be on site for your real inauguration later today.” offers Kayleigh brightly.

“I’ll never give up! I love my voters too much to ever quit. The rigged elections were stolen by the lower income working class people living in urban areas!” shouts Trump.

“Just call them Black voters, sir. Sorry, we’re trying to get the balance back into “fair and –”

“Hate to cut you short, Kayleigh, but I gotta thank all the suc, uh, brave donors who gave me over $300 million, post election day, to my Stop the Steal Campaign. A new funding record that will earn me a third Nobel. Donations still welcome at this link!” Trump lifts a poster board with his website emblazoned across it in front of his face, accidentally knocking off his stovepipe hat. His hair a beautician’s nightmare, Trump dives from sight and pops back up with the Abe hat turned sideways.

Kayleigh coughs nervously and tries to change the subject,”Um, Tell us about your real inauguration today. Why the choice of Four Season Total Landscaping for the location of your second term swearing in?”

Trump crosses his plump arms in a pout and grouses, “Did I teach you nothing, Kayleigh, while you served under me?”

“I’m sorry?”

You tell me why I selected Four Seasons Total Landscaping, Kayleigh.” says Trump tapping his chubby bare foot. “Hello! I’m waiting.”

“Um, you’re doubling down, sir? On Rudy’s presser he held between the dildo store and the crematorium?”

“Bingo! Haha! I own the libs again!” says Trump doing his YMCA dance, which minus the music is even weirder looking.

“Ooh the libtards hate you, sir!” giggles Kayleigh.

“Hey, Kayleigh, would you like your first Fox exclusive?”

“Of course, Mr. Real President.”

“The master of deal is back, Kayster! I’ve made an exclusive arrangement with Four Seasons Total Landscaping, to be the future northern White House, ” says Trump with a cocky grin.

“Um. Speechless, sir.”

“They’re putting me in the fertilizer department.” beams Trump.

“Um, uh, excellent choice to once again own the libtards. I’m curious of one thing though, Mr. President –“

“That’s Mr. Real President, ” says Trump angrily readjusting his stovepipe hat to his best crack a normal.

“I’m curious, Mr. Real President, why such a small venue? I mean the landscaper’s back alley could not possibly hold more than 100 or so of your loyal followers.”

“Duh. Simple, Kayleigh. Covid!” shouts Trump as if being louder will make his idea more understandable.

“Covid?” asks a panicky looking Kayleigh.

“I alone can save the American people from the virus. So I want my real inauguration to be intimate. You know, less people… to fight the China plague! A plague that Joe Biden’s son Hunter has brought upon our people with his illegal emails to the Ukraine.”

Not liking where this is heading Kayleigh gingerly asks,”Sir, are you still considering re-labeling this tragic killer of innocents and old people to be the Biden Virus?”

“Damn leakers. I was gonna reveal that in my inauguration speech today! Who told you about the Biden Virus?” demands Trump, with a pop on on his top hat for emphasis.

“You did, sir. Um, before I quit,” says Kayleigh with an apologetic smile.

“Right. I knew that. Knew that like Person, Man, Woman Camera, something, something. As you know, I am starting my own network. Trump TV! And it would have been the far,very far better choice for you, Kayleigh. Fox has gone too god damn liberal. Al the truthing! Disgusting!”

“The truth can really suck. I know. It”s just…”

“Just what, Kayleigh?”

“Ivanka. She’s jealous of any time I spend with you, sir.”

“Yeah, my babe, uh, baby can get catty. Can’t get enough of her Daddy dear,” says Trump distracted by a house fly.

“So I figured I able to converse with you more freely, Mr. Real President, at a network Ivanka was not, um, running.” says Kayleigh, finishing with a flirtatious smile.

Trump dives missing the fly and falls to the floor, “Got him and his little fly brother. Two flies with one blow Topped Obama again!” says Trump as the two flies buzz by the camera.

“How is the first lady taking all this?” says Kayleigh trying to move on.

“Dr. Jill? How the hell would I know?” sighs Trump then realizing what he said and quickly adding, “Right! First Lady Melania has written a poem about all this. Like me to read it?”

Off Kayleigh’s nod, Trump recites,

“A Poem the Real First Lady Melania Trump

4 years in the drafty old White House

Four years living with an arrogant louse

Get me off this fucking horse

I want a fucking dee-vorce!”

Trump says sadly, “Oh, that was Melania’s diary. My bad.”

“So sorry, Donald, I mean Mr. Real President.” says Kayleigh, wiping a tear.

“Shoulda rehearsed that poem thingee more. Nothing to be sorry about! Ladies, I am back on the market. How about a date tonight, Kayleigh?”

“Have to be double date. My husband Sean for me and any number of lucky women for you.”

“I’ll check with Kimberly!” says Trump wistfully.

“Don Jr. and Ms. Guilfolye have broken up?”

“Haha. Nope. But why settle for junior when senior’s on the market?”

Trump and Kayleigh laugh. Both have a hard time stopping and soon it awkward AF.

“Never can stay mad at you, Kayleigh Wayleighly. Wanna hear a little of my speech?” says Trump, pulling his robe tight over his bulging crotch. “This one I rehearsed, well, more like skimmed. Actually, my Black body man Robert read it to me. Did I mention Robert is Black?”

“Um, yes you have, sir. Many, many, many time.”

“Robert”s the Black guy that told me I was the best president for Black people aside from Abe Lincoln, maybe,” says Trump swatting the pair of flies away. “So mt speech. Want a taste, Kayleigh?”

“Oh my god, we at Fox News are totally honored to hear your real inauguration speech, Mr. Real President!”

Trump digs through the pile of burger wrappers, “Fuck me, where’s my fucking inauguration speech? Ah here we go! – Ahem! Four years ago we birthed Trumptopia together! This despite the mess I inherited from that Kenya born jungle bunny and –“

“If I may suggest, sir, Jungle bunny may cost your a few Black votes in 2024, sir.” says Kayleigh, sneaking a look at her watch.

Trump ignores Kayleigh and pushes on, “Now, as I begin my second terms as the real president of my ever blossoming Trumptopia, I want to give special thanks to those rascally Proud Boys for acting as my army — scratch that, I mean private security force — sponsored by My Pillow, and gathered here at Four Seasons Total Land –“

Onscreen Kayleigh listens to her earpiece and says, “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. President.”

Mr. Real President! Knew I should have given this interview to Hannity. What the fuck is so important you have the nerve to interrupt –“

“Sean has breaking news from the, um, fake inauguration. It seems fake president Joe Biden has sprained his big toe and –“

“Haha! See! See how old and feeble that old goat Biden is!” gloats Trump.

“Actually, it seems Joe sprained his toe rescuing a bus load of Trump backers from a burning Greyhound single-handidly.” says Kayleigh softly.

“Oh, “whispers Trump. The stovepipe hat falls off his bushy half bald head.

“Sorry, Mr REAL President. Over to you Sean,” says Kayleigh blowing a kiss to Trump.

The TV screen switches to a Sean Hannity who watches in amazement as Joe Biden carries a heavy Proud Boy over his shoulders off the burning Greyhound bus to be tended to by the First Lady Dr. Jill Biden.

Sean says bitterly to the camera, “Welp, there goes Trumptopia, folks!”

Trump glumly turns off the TV and starts to pack his remaining shit.

Trump’s Black body man Robert pokes his head in the bedroom door and says, “Sir, the Secret Service, insists you vacate immediately. You get dressed and leave that packing to me.”

Trump falls to his knees and prays,”Where’d I go wrong with your people, Robert?”

Robert ponders and finally finds the words, “I had to pick the moment it was, you know, after Charlottesville. When you said there were very fine people on both sides?”

Trump nods slowly. Falling tears streak his orange makeup. Trump finds a half eaten burger on the floor and attempts to eat away his sorrow.

THE END

Trump’s Fever Dream – Chapter 6 – Mt. Rushmore and the Bunker Rebels

Welcome to my Covid writing therapy project. Hope you’ve read chapter 1-5.

It’s weird, – and what isn’t these Covid days ? – but have you ever noticed how many things written as fiction actually come to pass? For example the 2000 Motorola flip phone was first imagined by Gene Rodenberry for the 1966 premiere of STAR TREK.

Since April I’ve been developing TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM and, sure enough, some parts of the story are really coming to pass. Ultimately, will Trump eventually contract Covid-19 as in the premise of this strange tale, one that would be a comedy were the real life tragedy of Trump mismanagement not so sad?

Not that I’d ever wish such an ill event on our wannbe king, but we can dream can’t we that his catching the virus, not likely as he has the testing we all dream of, might awaken his long lost conscience? Indeed, anything is possible in a world where Trump fans, gathered in the middle of a pandemic, cheer a drink of water.

CHAPTER 6 – Mt. Rushmore and the Bunker Rebels

Dr. Faucci makes a deep incision in Trump’s throat in the exact spot where Trump was shot in the throat by his conscience in his wild west fever dream.  Blood trickles, crossing the orange tan line where Trump’s bloated chest meets his saggy neck.

Faucci says, “OK, I’ve successfully made the incision to avoid the President’s damaged throat tissue from his drinking bleach. Now you make the insertion of the ventilator tube, Dr. Edwards.” Dr. Edwards takes over the operation,

Ivanka, sporting the latest Paris fashion Covid mask, rises to her feet along with the mask wearing Jared when Dr. Faucci exits the surgery room. She asks nervously, “Doctor, is my Daddy going to pull through?”

Dr. Faucci sighs deeply and wipes sweat from his forehead, “A tracheotomy is an relatively easy procedure. My real concern is that your father hid his catching virus for too long.”

“That’s no answer, Tony!” blurts Jared, his normally high pitched feeble voice nearly inaudible beneath his red, white and blue mask.

Dr. Faucci ignores Jared and addresses Ivanka, “Your father’s odds of a recovery are quite low. And if he does ever recover, he may be in a shape where can no longer serve as president.”

Ivanka spins to sob on Jared’s tiny chest.

In the adjacent operating room, dead to the real world, Trump does not stir on the operating table as Dr. Edwards inserts the air tube in Faucci’s tracheotomy incision. The operating room fades from view as the White House Bunker fades into view…

Nestled safely in his bunker, the real world a forgotten memory, Trump does his best presidential poker face as his advisors wrangle with a new series of more violent protests.

Larry Kudlow gasps as on the big screen array of BLM protestors use a stolen city bus to flatten the White House fence. The angry mob charges the heavily armed Secret Service Agents.

Barr says, “Relax, Larry.  Our secret troops learned in Portland how to put these dogs to sleep.”

“Relax? This is revolution! And we all know what happens to the player in an old regime, especially one as cruel as ours,” croaks Larry.

Trump laughs at Larry and says, “Chill, Larry. Theses walls of this vault are 6 feet thick, or something like that kinda thickness. Tremendously thick walls.  And we have all the comforts of home here. The best champagne.  The best caviar.  Bobby’s secret service troops are handpicked for their –”

On screen the Federal Troops lay down their weapons and the angry mob races past them.

“What in Holy Hell?” shouts Trump, cracking one of TV screens with his tiny fists.

The Director of the Secretive Service, James Murray, calmly says to the gasping Trump, “Not to worry, sir. Like you just said, in your genius way, the rioters cannot possibly reach us down here.”

“Right. The lowlifes have zero chance, sir!” shouts Miller, almost making a Nazi salute, which he fakes into a stretch.

“Let’s get back to talking about my new fantastic Mt. Rushmore monument to the greatest presidency ever! Mine!” says Trump imperiously. “Tell me about getting head, Kayleigh.”

The men all laugh at Trump’s sexist joke, while Kayleigh does her best to hide her disgust She rolls a model of Mt Rushmore into the bunker conference room. “Mr. President, I afraid the Rushmore survey ream has determined that there is not enough structural integrity to the surrounding rock to add an your incredible face.”

“I am not happy about this, Kayleigh!” grumps Trump, folding his arms across his big belly.

Screen Shot 2020-08-09 at 5.03.13 PM

“It’s OK, Mr. President. We have a solution…” Kayleigh loses her train of thought as on the big screen a mass of militant protestors take baseball bats to the badly outnumbered Federal troops.  Many protestors fall and die under heavy gunfire from the troops, but an endless stream bat and machete wielding protestors take their place in the bloody battle for the White House.

“Go on Kayleigh. Don’t worry about the losers up there. Nigger scum.” snarls Steve Miller.

“The losers can’t reach us. Go on, Kayleigh. Give me some head!” chuckles Trump.

Mastering her outrage Kayleigh says, “Well, it’s simple. All we have to do is re-chisel one of the four heads into your amazing image, sir.  All that remains is for you to pick who you want to replace. Who shall it be, Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt or Lincoln, sir?”

Trump relishes at this historic decision making moment, spinning around and around in his larger than anyone else’s leather chair, and finally decreeing,”Q-Anon calls me the greatest civil rights leader of all time. Lowest unemployment for blacks ever, before the Covid started killing them off like flies, so I pick to replace the head of Abraham Lincoln be replaced by my very own much more handsome face. My base will love it and my haters can eat shit and die.”

Barr offers obsequiously, “Brilliant choice as always, sir!  It’s true you have supplanted Lincoln in the hearts of the people after all!”

The gathering of white men plus one frustrated woman in Kayleigh give Trump a standing ovation.

For a split-second Trump is back in the real world as surgical team tech turns the breathing machine on. Trump heartbeat stops on the monitor. Dr. Fauci takes up shock paddles and shouts, “Clear!”

Shocked back into his bunker fever dream Trump point at the security monitor and bellows, “What?! The niggers are in my Oval offices!”

Trump and his team watch helplessly as security TV screen shows a rush of protestors of all races and creeds swarm into the Oval Office

Trump demands, “Murray, set off the self-destrust bomb and blow the fucking Antifa anarchists off the face of the earth!”

Murray pleadingly turns to Barr who coldly nods for him to carry out Trump’s command. “You heard the president.”

Turning to the monitors, where the Resolute Desk is set aflame, Murray anguishes and finally croaks, “I respectfully decline to carry out your orders to blow up the  protestors, sir. You have my resignation.”

Trump spins to Defense Secretary Esper and roars, “Esper, wipe out these fucking terrorists!”

“These are American citizen’s, Mr. President. I respectfully refuse and resign as well,”

“Where are our Portland shock and awe troops?!”shouts Miller

“In transit to Milwaukee,” answers Barr.

“Well, get them here it DC pronto! Seen this Tweet?” says Trump, jamming a cell phone in Barr’s saggy fat face.

The gaggle white men crowd around Trump’s cell phone that reads:

“Lynch the #BunkerBaby!

“The bastards are still calling me BunkerBaby again, even after I crushed them in Lafayette Square!”

“Um, sir, my mom taught me sticks and stones may break –”

“Shut the fuck up! Sageant Cosco, escort these traitor my bunker!”

“Name’s Rosco. Mr. President, and I am afraid Mr. Esper and Mr. Murray cannot leave as we’re sealed in.”

“Look, COSCO. No one’s in the hallway!” shouts Trump.

“Now. But, sir the 2 ton door operates slowly by the time we see rioters we could –”

“Break the seal!” demands Trump.

“– be fucked.” finishes Sergeant Rosco feebly. “I will remind the president that there is angry mob right outside the vault door! Open it and you could kills us all.”

Trump defiantly pushes the open button and gloats, “Fuck off. Want something done right you, um, something something. ”

Miller takes charge, “Seargent Rosco remove, Mr. Esper and Mr. Murray from my bunker or you’re facing a firing squad for disobeying your commander and chief!”

Trump beams and he proclaims ,“All clear! As Winston, uh, Church-something, the Brit guy,  once said we have nothing to fear but, ah, fuck it –”

Gunfire erupts as mob of rioters race up the long hall for the open bunker door.

“Seal the bunker! Protect the presi –” Sergeant Rosco falls to the marble floor, bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

Kayliegh shouts to the mob, “Power to the people. I am not with the dictator sexist, racist Trump anymore!”

The protestors get such a kick out of Trump’s sad reaction to Kayleigh’s betrayal they let her slip away.

An angry Black man races up to a screaming Trump and raises a bloody hatchet.

Trump begs on his knees, “Black lives matter!  Praise Jesus! Black live matter! Spare me and I’ll sign any law you want!”

Trump curls in a ball and weeps like a baby sucking his thumbs, eyes slammed shut waiting for a death blow.

The angry black man laughs saying, “Pathetic!” as he plant the axe in Trump’s orange head.  Blood gushes and all goes black.  Faintly the beep of a life monitor gets louder and Trump’s eyes flicker open.

Thrilled to be back in the real world where he on life support, Trump peeps open his eyes to see his loyal personal Black attendant Robert reading the newspaper beside his hospital bed. Trumps bloodshot feverish eyes close.

We see the Robert’s Washington Post’s headline reads:

PRESIDENT CONTRACTS VIRUS. LIFE HANGS BY THREAD!

The End