The crowd in the streets outside the White House was loud, raucous and proud. Their leader had finally taken his rightful place on 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. All remnants of that black family was thankfully scourged away and the right lineage was ensconced once more.
“ Hare ye, hare ye, all hale to King Donald J. Trump,” read some of the misspelled placards held high amid confederate flags flying in the breeze. “Good riddance to that Kenyan, Muslim ni**er,” and “white pride,” were a few of the other slogans brazenly on display. That float with Trump executing Hillary Clinton was also in circulation once more.
It was inauguration day January, 2017 and Trump stood puffed with pride, a wide smirk on his orange face, with his daughter Ivanka beaming at his side, his adult sons earnestly close behind while wife Melania and young son brought up the rear. Not sure I saw his other daughter but am guessing she was somewhere in the fray.
The only time the real cowardly Trump peeked through was when he had to lay his hand on the bible to be sworn in. I wonder why? The coward showed his fear only for a second before the cloudy mask of a smirk returned, accompanied by a maniacal gleam in his eyes. The divided states of America watched the ceremony on televisions nationwide—with Trump supporters reveling in his victory and the rest of the country quivering uncontrollably.
What the hell just happened? — was the sentiment echoed across millions of homes in the U.S. and beyond. In fact, the entire globe was still reeling, reverberating with disbelief, bewilderment, fear and anger.
How could the Americans elect a fascist buffoon as their president? How could the country that was the unofficial leader of the free world, that bastion of democracy, get it so grossly wrong? Those questions and more were being frantically aired in several languages, as the world tried to digest the enormity of what just happened in the land of the free and the brave.
Meanwhile, skinheads, Neo-Nazis, members of the KKK, white supremacists and the rest in the deplorable basket, were jubilantly gearing up for that nod from their leader. That nod that would tell them all was right again in their white world. They had taken their country back—just how far back depended on the decree handed down from Washington.
Whatever it was, they were ready, confident that President /King/ Herr Trump would not disappoint. This was the kind of stuff their wet dreams were made of and finally that day they longed for was here. They salivated at the prospects.
Those brown immigrants from across the border? Gone.
Those Muslims walking around freely, with big beards, Koran in hand? Well just wait and see, they texted each other. “When our reign of terror is over, not a Mosque will remain open. They will beg Herr Trump to deport them back to the sand where they belong.”
As for the blacks and those uppity women who have forgotten where their rightful places were, just wait. If they thought the back of the bus was bad, or cops’ declaring open season with impunity meant black lives didn’t matter, well they can all go back to Africa. Trump’s deportation task-force would gladly expedite their travels. As for the fairer sex, they will be back in the kitchen serving us beer before they can utter any of those big fancy words like Hillary, misogyny, equality or sexism.
Now this is how democracy is supposed to work in a dictatorship, they high-five each other under the sheets, after putting down their beers, guns and bibles. “Hail Donald Trump, thanks for making our country great again.”
After the inauguration’s pomp and ceremony died down, President/King Trump strolled into the Oval Office officially for the first time, leaving the worshipful chants of his subjects behind him. He had arrived at last. Forget about the deficit, creating jobs, the Middle East many crises, climate change, alternative energy sources, race relations, education, affordable college, terrorism, veteran affairs, choosing his cabinet or a host of other pressing matters that need his attention. First things first: who should he put in his cross-hairs, he pondered? Crooked Hillary? That Kenyan who just vacated the premises? All his detractors who poked relentless fun at him during the campaign? The biased media who treated him unfairly? That Miss America who is no longer a 10?
Or should he widen his range beyond America. Maybe fire up the nukes for bad countries like Ghina, Iran, ISIS?
But first he had to call his pal Putin, he thought; get a little advice on how to run an oligarchy efficiently. Pence better not mess this bromance up for him, for if he dared tried, he would be so fired.
Meanwhile in related news, lawmakers on both side of the aisle were wringing their hands, gripped by a combination of impotent rage and dread. But a few were happy, especially Chris Christie and former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani. The duo was giddy with excitement, waiting on their reward for all the extreme ass-kissing they did for Herr Trump.
Check back for the fallout guys, it’s going to be huge, believe me.
For unbeknownst to the Deplorable-in-Chief and his minions celebrating under their burning crosses, a group of high-ranking generals and other powerful political players from the Good Ole Party, were meeting in a secret location to discuss his fate. They knew they couldn’t leave this cretin at the helm, so close to the nuclear codes. And we know when Republicans meet in secret close to or after inaugurating a president they don’t like–to decide how to handle the situation–they get shit done. Didn’t they cock-block that half negro who just left the White House at every turn–rendering him almost legislatively impotent as they agreed?
This time the measures decided upon were much more drastic. Extreme times called for extreme measures, they all agreed.