Trump Art Imitates Life

“But I told them I wanted it!” President Trump muttered as he prowled the late Friday-night quiet of the White House, tiny hands tucked warmly in his bathrobe. “I wanted it! I wanted it!”

It hadn’t been a good day. Those fools in the House had failed him. Obamacare yet lived. Of course, as he had explained, failure to repeal was really a Trump victory because those lazy Democrats didn’t make up for missing Republican votes.

But still. . .

“‘Forget about the little shit!’ is what I told them,” he said as he moved into the dimly lit Treaty Room. “You’re kind of hard to forget, Donnie!” said a voice.

“You again!” the president bellowed. “You were in the microwave at Mar-A-Lago! Now you're back!  I’ll have you arrested! Bigly!”

“Absolutely, Mr. Donnie! It’ll be yuuuge! You just tell the Secret Service that the microwave you talked to last week is now a  chatty mirror in the Treaty Room --oh, and don’t forget to tell Mike Pence.”

“Pence? Pence?. . .” the president paused in thought until it came to him.”Ohh! You mean Mikey?  Why would I tell Mikey anything?”

“Because he’s been looking every day at that copy of the 25th he keeps in his pocket.”

“But today’s the 24th!”

“No, Mr. Donnie, the 25th Amendment! You know, the one in the Constitution that says they can yank you when you go whacko.”

“It says that?” Trump wondered. “In the Constitution?”

“It does.  Uh,  you have read the Constitution, right?”

“Let's focus on the big picture here!” the president snapped. “I’ve got people to handle small details!”

“Ahh,  yes! Of course! Small details, small-minded people --perfect! Who’d you speak to for that advice?”

““I’m speaking with myself, number one, because I have a very good brain and I’ve said a lot of things. … I know what I’m doing and I listen to a lot of people, I talk to a lot of people and at the appropriate time I’ll tell you who the people are. But I speak to a lot of people. My primary consultant is myself, and I have, you know, I have a good instinct for this stuff.”

“Clearly! Such a penetrated intellect, Mr. Donnie! Brilliant, if you do say so yourself!”

Trump allowed himself a smile. “Now you’re talking! Starting to make some sense!”

“You should share that brilliance, Mr. Donnie. Perhaps an appearance on

Fox. . .or maybe another book?”

“Another book? But I had so many written -- best sellers of course. I hire nothing but the best!  Still, one more couldn’t hurt . . .and  the royalties!” Trumped smiled in satisfaction.

Precisely, Sir! Brilliant! Stupendous! Colossal!  And Sir If I may make so bold, perhaps you’ll allow  me to suggest a title?”

Trump felt indulgent. Why not? “So what do  you think I should call my next smashing success of a book? Remember, it has to reflect me!”

“Of course! Exactly! I can see it in the bookstores now: Donald Trump -- The Art of The Schlemiel!”

###