Presidential Solitary Vice

PALM BEACH -- The Sunday morning gloom still dimmed the private kitchen when the bathrobe-clad president began playing with his twitter.

Staff had pleaded with him to stop that, but, well,  there were certain needs . . .

He smiled at the first familiar keystrokes, his attention focusing on the task in hand.  He could feel this would be a good one. . .

“Donnie Baby!”

The president froze, eyes darting wildly.

“Donnie Baby! You gotta stop doing that to yourself,  Pal --don’t you know it’ll make you crazy?”

Head swiveling in the gloom, the president could see no one. But that voice. . .Just like last month’s Treaty Room hallucination. Damned Franklin mirror!

“Who are you? Where are you?” he demanded in an unpresidented quiver.

“Mr. Donnie, Mr. Donnie! Don’t you remember?  Your ‘Mirror Image’?” smirked the voice.

“There’s no mirror here! Bannon says all the experts agree!”

“Yep!” the voice chuckled, “which is why I borrowed the microwave -- though I gotta admit, it was Kellyanne Conway's Idea.”

The president stared at the microwave, watching open-mouthed as all the lights flashed once.

“OK, now that you’re paying attention, listen up --you gotta stop this constant twittering-off. I mean, twitter-bating  morning, noon and night, it’s unhealthy!”

“But,” the president started…

“No but-grabbing either!”

“How dare you!”

“Hey, just locker-room stuff, you know? But I gotta tell ya, Mr. Donnie, you grabbing your twitter every chance you get is just making a constant cleanup problem.”

“I’ve got staff for that!”

“Yeah, but even Sean Spicer can only mop  up so much. Look, your habit has disgusted Republicans in Congress, the federal judiciary, Mexico, Canada, Sweden, the United Kingdom, Germany, China -- Hell, even your base is tired of these twitter spurts. Give it  a rest!”

The president paused in thought, quit when it started to hurt. “Well, I…”

“OK, OK, you’re the Great Negotiator, so here’s my offer:  Lay off tweeting your

twitter for a week and I’ll give you bigger hands.”

“And if I don’t?” the president countered.

“You’ll still have little ones, but with @hairy palms!”

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