- James Preston Allen
Trump’s nightmare before the shutdown
By James Preston Allen, Publisher
It’s winter in Washington, D.C., snow has dusted the White House lawn, the West Wing staff have gone home for the evening and Donald is in the residence watching Fox News. It is getting late and the White House butler, Raymond, checks in on the president, “Is there anything I can get you before I retire for the night sir?”
“Just fill up my glass of Diet Coke and that’ll be it. Has Melania gone to bed yet?”
“Yes, sir,” Raymond responds, “Goodnight.”
Donald looks past the large flat screen TV out the window next to the painting of George Washington. The snow falling gently as he places his hand on a large commemorative White House snowglobe next to his Diet Coke. He begins to doze off.
In a half-woke fog, Donald stares into the snowglobe shaking it again and again until it falls onto his lap. He’s asleep. The TV remote in one hand the globe in the other.
Suddenly he hears a voice, “Don, wake up,” it says.
He looks around and there’s no one there. “Over here,” the voice says.
Donald looks down to the snowglobe on his lap and peers into it, “Damn, if that doesn’t look like George Washington. I wonder how they did that?”
“Don, this is George. Yes, that one — Washington — and I’ve got some advice for you.”
Startled, he asks, “And what would that be?”
“Just tell the truth. Just once, like I did when I chopped down the cherry tree. Maybe then they’ll leave you alone.”
“I can’t do that. The Democrats would come after me with the axe. You have to act strong if you’re going to be in control.” Donald pauses for a moment then asks, “Are you the only one in there, I’d like to get a second opinion on this”
“Don, we are all in here except for the ones who are still living. George H.W. just arrived and he says, ‘Don’t eat the broccoli.’”
Trump rolls his eyes and gives the globe a good shake.
“Let me talk to Lincoln! Abe, are you there? Talk to me Abe. The Democrats are trying to assassinate me.”
The image of Lincoln appears in the globe, “Calm down, Don. You haven’t gone to the Ford Theater yet on this Russia thing. But tell us, how was Stormy Daniels, she looks, as you say, HOT!”
“They can’t prove any of that. It’s a witch hunt and they’re all lying about everything.”
Abe scratches his beard, “Yes, yes, you know this place hasn’t changed in over 150 years. The press likes to print rumors and there’s plenty of that still … but do tell all of us dead presidents, how was it with Stormy? You know it’s been a while…”
“But Abe, tell me how I get past all this adversity,” Donald pleads.
Lincoln thought for a moment then replied, “All men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character you give him power.”
Trump looked annoyed by this answer. He then shook the globe once more thinking that it was going to give him the wisdom of 40 past presidents. Suddenly, the image of Richard Nixon appears in the snowy orb, peering back at Trump.
“Damn it, Don. Just tell them that you’re not a crook and that the press has been out to get you from the very beginning. You know, I’ve been dead for years and the press still won’t leave me alone. They keep bringing up Watergate and comparing it to the Russians meddling in the elections. They even support the special prosecutor like they did with me! They are a bunch of bastards,” Nixon shouts.
“I guess that didn’t turn out so well for you did it, Dick?” Trump asks.
“Yeah, it was those damn tapes that I kept to record everyone. Without those, they’d have never got me. You aren’t recording your conversations are you?”
The president pulls out his cell phone and shows it to Nixon, “I don’t need a recorder. Everything is on this device. Twitter is my revenge on the news media. They can’t stop me from getting back at them, distracting them and exciting my followers. The media just keep falling for my tweets.”
A Fox News announcement of more indictments coming from Robert Mueller’s investigation wakes Trump from this dream suddenly. He turns off the sound and quickly falls back into the dream. He shakes the snowglobe once more only to find that the presidents have all gone and there, on the small lawn in front of the tiny White House, is a group of scary gnomes.
He shakes it again and again but the gnomes remain. “Who are you people anyway?” he asks. Then he looks closer. It’s Special Counsel Robert Mueller, Rod Rosenstein, former FBI director James Comey, Nancy Pelosi, Hillary Clinton and Chuck Schumer.
Astounded, he screams, “You can’t be in there! This is my snowglobe and you weren’t invited!”
At this point the lights come on and John Kelly the president’s chief of staff rushes in to check the president.
“What the hell is going on, Mr. President? It’s 5 a.m. and you’re still watching Fox and you’re sitting here looking into a snowglobe like it’s some kind of damn crystal ball … are you alright?”
“Damn it, Kelly, get this thing out of my hands. I think it has been infected with a virus. Have the IT people inspect it! In the meantime make sure things are set for our trip to Mar-a-Lago for Christmas Eve. This place is too cold in the winter and the ghosts of the past are hovering around me.”
A worried Kelly replies, “Huh, ummm, OK, I’ll get right on it.” He leaves immediately to call the White House physician to have him check on the president. Kelly shakes his head and thinks to himself, “Man, was that weird! I’m glad I’m out of here by the end of the year.”
Trump grabs the remote and turns up the sound on Fox News and immediately falls back to sleep.