Originals

It’s a Wonderful Presidency

President-elect Trump is pacing inside the penthouse at Trump Tower. He stares out at the Manhattan skyline and all the Christmas decorations that have sprung up and he listens to a cable news show in the background. Trump catches only bits and pieces of what’s being said because he’s distracted while tweeting on his gold cell phone.

“Still hasn’t released his taxes”

Trump tweets, “Where r the tax returns from the dishonest and disgusting media? Sad!”

“Has yet to start acting Presidential”

Trump tweets, “I got your Presidential action right here.”

“Many of his cabinet appointments will face strong opposition to their confirmation”

Trump tweets, “Your mother wears combat … “

Trump stops and puts down his cell phone as he contemplates his dilemma. He’s seriously considering abandoning the Presidency to stick with his business empire.

He turns around to look at the TV and sees standing next to it a middle-aged stranger with curly hair.

“How did you get in here?” Trump asks. “I have a guard — believe me, the best guard — stationed right outside my front door.”

“I just waited for Governor Christie to make his hourly run to McDonald’s and then I walked right in,” the stranger says.

“Who are you?” Trump asks.

“I’m the answer to your prayer,” the visitor says.

“But I don’t pray,” Trump says.

“Well, actually I’m the answer to your problem. I fudged the truth a little because this time of year it always sounds better if you throw in some sort of prayerful angle.”

“Fudged the truth, huh?” Trump says. “You work for CNN?”

The visitor chuckles and says, “no, but I used to work in the media. Had my own conservative news website.”

“Used to work in the media,” Trump says. “You retired or something.”

“Permanently retired, you might say,” the visitor says. “I’ve come from a place far, far away. My name is Andrew and I’m a FAS.”

“Well, once I get sworn in you people ain’t gonna be able to marry anymore, bud,” Trump says.

“No, sir,” Andrew says, “it’s F-A-S: Fallen Angel, Second class.”

“Well, Andrew,” Trump says. “You said you came from a place far, far away. I generally don’t cotton to people from beyond about 59th Street. But you don’t look too Muslim-ee to me, so go ahead. You said you’re here to help with my problem, but I don’t have problems. I’m Trump.”

“Ah, but you do have one problem — a big one,” Andrew says.

Trump scowls as he grabs his phone and prepares to tweet.

“Hold on, Sundance,” Andrew says. “The problem isn’t your fault. It’s that damn mainstream media.”

Trump relaxes and straightens his suit jacket. “Go on,” he says.

“I can tell this has gotten under your skin,” Andrew says as Trump resumes his tweet stance. “Even though you have the thickest skin ever. Kevlar like.”

Trump puts his phone at ease.

“You’ve been tweeting non stop for an hour and it isn’t even midnight yet,” Andrew says. “You know what the problem is, don’t you?”

Trump lets out a deep sigh of resignation and offers Andrew a seat. He mutes the TV and starts pacing again.

He turns to Andrew and says, “They want to see my taxes. They want me to put my business in a trust. They want to let brown people into this country. Hell, I can’t even go to Vladimir’s Christmas party.

“I’m worth more as a businessman than as President.”

“Now look, you mustn’t talk like that,” Andrew says. “I won’t get my wings with that attitude.

“You just don’t know all that you’ve done. If it hadn’t been for you…”

“Yeah, if it hadn’t been for me,” Trump says, “everybody’d be a lot better off. I should just stayed here and turned the Presidency over to that guy with the white hair I run into every now and then — Mike, something or other.”

“Hmmm, this isn’t gonna be so easy,” Andrew says as he ponders what to do next. “So you still think resigning would make everyone feel happier, eh?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Trump says. “I guess you’re right. I suppose it would have been better
if I’d never run at all.”

“What’d you say?” Andrew asks.

“I said I wish I’d never run for President.”

“Oh, you mustn’t say things like that,” Andrew says. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute. That’s an idea. Yeah, that’ll do it. All right. You’ve got your wish. You’ve never been elected.”

“What did you say?” Trump asks.

“You’ve never been elected,” Andrew says. “You’re not President-elect. You haven’t a care in the world. No cabinet to fill. No move into the White House. No conflicts of interest.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m famished,” Trump says. “Why don’t we go get something to eat?”

Trump looks around the penthouse and out in the hallway, but doesn’t see anyone.

“What are you looking for,” Andrew asks.

“Ernie, and all the other Secret Service guys. They’re always around me. That’s strange.”

“You know what else is strange?” Bart asks. “You’re losing millions in rent because the Secret Service isn’t here.”

“Of course they’re here and paying rent,” Trump says. “You think the Secret Service is going to let the President-elect, especially Trump, go unprotected?”

“You’re not the President-elect. The Secret Service isn’t here because you didn’t get elected. You didn’t get elected because you didn’t get the nomination. And you didn’t get the nomination because you never ran for President.”

They take an elevator down to the lobby of Trump Tower and as they get off and exit the building there’s no sign of the cameras that have been staked out since the election.

“That’s strange,” Trump says. “There’s usually cameras all over the place.”

“You’re going to see a lot of strange things from now on,” Andrew says.

“Say, it’s kind of cold out,” Trump says to Andrew. “You look like you could use a hat. Let’s stop in my souvenir store and get you a “Make America Great Again hat.”

They stop in front of a Starbucks as Trump wonders, “Starbucks? The only overpriced junk sold here is supposed to be Trump memorabilia. Where’s the Trump Memorabilia Store? This is where everybody gets their hats.”

“There are no make America Great Again hats because you never ran for President,” Andrew said. “So you never promised to Make America Great Again — or profited from that promise.”

Trump and Andrew take Trump’s limousine to the airport and board the Trump plane for a quick trip to Washington.

“Weird things started happening when you showed up at Trump Tower,” Trump says to Andrew. “Before that I was in Washington and everything was OK.”

Trump sticks his head into the cockpit and says, OK, Bert, take us to Washington.””

Trump and Andrew arrive at Trump International Hotel in Washington and Trump looks around for the marquees advertising numerous upcoming events with foreign dignitaries coming to the hotel.

“Hey, what’s going on around here?” Trump asks.

“Don’t you understand, Mr. Trump?” Andrew says. “It’s because you were not elected.”

“Then if I wasn’t elected, who am I?”

“You’re just another billionaire.”

“Oh, what do you mean, just another billionaire? I’m President-elect Donald J. Trump.”

“There is no President-elect Trump. You have no popular votes, no Electoral votes, no cabinet appointees.
You’ve been given a great gift, Mr. Trump… a chance to see what the world would be like if you’d never run for President.”

“Andrew …”

“Yes, Mr. Trump?”

“What’s my bottom line?”

“Oh, well, I … I … I can’t do … ”

“I don’t know how you know these things, but tell me, what’s my bottom line?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“If you know what my bottom line is, tell me what my bottom line is.”

“I’m not supposed to tell.”

“Andrew!

“It’s millions — many millions — less than it would have been if you were President.”

“Don’t you see, Mr. Trump? You really had a wonderful Presidency. Don’t you see what a shame it would be to throw it all away?”

“Andrew?”

“Yes, Mr. Trump.”

“Please get me back. Just get me back to all those new money-making opportunities.”

Trump turns around and sees that Bart is gone. He notices a sea of former Trump adversaries pour into the hotel ballroom — Lyin’ Ted, Little Marco, even Crooked Hillary. They’re all wearing “Make America Great Again” hats.

He follows them into the room and everyone cheers Trump as he enters.

Rudy Giuliani walks next to him and grabs a drink from Ernie, the Secret Service agent.

“Good, idea, Ernie,” Giuliani says. “A toast to Trump — the richest man in two towns!”

Written by Les East

Les East

Les East is a nationally renown freelance journalist. He was recently named top sports columnist in the United States by the Society of Professional Journalists and Louisiana Sportswriter of the Year by the National Sportscasters and Sportswriters Association. When he’s not writing about sports — and sometimes when he is — he likes to provide snarky commentary on current events. You can follow him on Facebook and Twitter — @Les_East

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