Donald Trump & His Hitler Rallies!
[AdSense-A]
By Donald “Braveheart” Stewart
Mr. Trump is in a quandary. He doesn’t really understand what that means but he knows it is not pleasant so he is looking round the room to find out who it is that might be responsible for it…
Picture the scene…
Mr. Trump is not alone in the Not So White House as he sits in the Not So Oval Office. In the corner, trying to hide is a new Agent Orange. Also new is his Aide de camp.
Mr. Trump has no idea what an aide de camp is but he heard that other Presidents had them and if he is the President he needs to have the best aide ever. In fact, no one does or knows about aide de camps better than he does. He could write a book about aides de camps. He might have time soon to write that book and that is what he is worrying about…
His new aide he calls Orange Aid; they wouldn’t let him call him Cool for some reason and said it felt too close to reality – what’s that about? He thinks to himself, they are so mean, so mean to me.; and they know it, he knows it…
He wants to go to Florida.
Mr. Trump stands up and starts to talk to the Orange Aid…
“I need to do something about these figures we need to get to Florida.”
He points to a wall where there seems to be a lot of crayon. The Orange Aid knows that the crayon is the upside-down figures from the latest polls. They are upside down because the right way up, they look the right way forward, and there has not been much right in his experience so far.
Mr. Trump starts to take his soda from the side of the desk, takes some and then he starts to talk again as he thinks that Orange Aid does not understand what he means.
“Fire up Air Force One – we are going to Chicago!”
Agent Orange and Orange Aid look at him inquisitively. Agent Orange is the doer, Orange Aid is the talker, so he talks.
“Mr. President, can I check? Are you suggesting we go to Chicago or Florida?”
Mr. Trump looks at him as if he is stupid.
“Yes I am,” he replies.
“I see,” says Orange Aid as he doesn’t. Then he realizes he may have a solution, “Mr. President, can I just check, sir. Which shall we go to first?”
That throws Mr. Trump as he has no idea that they are two different places.
He turns and looks out the Not So Oval Office window and starts, talking, “Listen, I need to go and kiss some beautiful women out there. I need to give these people a big fat kiss! You,” he points at Orange Aid, “need to sort it for me.”
Orange Aid looks to one side to give himself time to think. “Mr. President, perhaps we should use your, not inconsiderable, intelligence to map out a strategy?”
Mr. Trump thinks to himself, this is good, he knew he needed an Aide de Camp who was bright, really bright, nut not as bright as he is. Mind you, given the amount of time on the sunbed when he was in that hospital, few people are as bright as he is at the moment.
Mr. Trump turns round and faces the Orange Aid, “and no masks,” he says.
Agent Orange and Orange Aid immediately sign over orders for the rest of the Presidential detail to accompany the President. They are body swerving the travel to safeguard their families and themselves.
“No masks, Mr. President.” Says agent Orange.
“And Ohio!”
“Sir?”
“We need to add in Ohio.”
Agent Orange and Orange Aid look up at the same time.
“Ohio, sir? Is that not too soon after what happened?” Agent Orange is now speaking though from outside of the Not So Oval office it looks like a chair is speaking – he has moved from behind a pot plant to mimicking the contours of an easy chair.
Mr. Trump hears voices from somewhere. He always has so if they are now coming from an easy chair in the room it makes little difference to him.
“You know,” he begins. “They say I’m immune. I feel so powerful, I’ll walk in there and kiss everyone. I’ll kiss the guys and the beautiful women, I’ll give everyone a big, fat kiss.”
At that point, the reports from the Not So White House security detail and the CCTV showed that a couple of people ran from the Not So Oval Room whilst screaming and the President’s Helicopter was revved up to go to the airport and take Air Force One out to his preferred Trump Rally. What it did not pick up was the President smiling at the effect he had on his staff – they seriously moved when his not inconsiderable intelligence had mapped out his strategy. He likes the effect.
In the corner of the room a quiet assassin is lurking. As he swivels his pinkie ring, there are few in the Not So White House who have noticed him. He was not there to kiss any asses, any rings or beautiful women. That night, there were therefore no big fat kisses on offer in the building… For that, the offer travelled rather badly elsewhere.
Whilst the author asserts his right to this as an almost original tale, any similarities to persons real or imagined are deliberate. However as there is little or no evidence that Mr. Trump has ever drunk orange aid from his desk, as far as he is aware, this is clearly fictional and never actually happened, though some of Mr Trump’s words have been used.
Over the last week, Donald J Trump has been back on the election trail, especially at swing states and offered top go out and kiss people after being immune from COVID-19. To date no conspiracy theorists or QAnon supporters have come forward to throw themselves on the President’s lips…
Unless someone knows different…
[si-contact-form form=’2′]