"Sir, no," Codename Manafort groaned, long since given up trying to talk sense into this man. Putin had told him this would work, goddammit. That Americans are stupid and think TV is real. It hadn't occurred to him that just because they think TV is real, it doesn't mean they're watching someone because they like or trust him, or even think he's that funny; Americans also liked to watch Family Guy. Donald Trump was naked, and Manafort tried to avoid sight of as many details as Trump would let him. "Paulie, whadaya think?"
"It's not a good look."
Indeed the destroyed apple pie slowly sliding off of Donald's groin was not a good look, not for anyone. "This is what I'm gonna do. This will show them I mean business. I'll go out there, and fuck an apple pie." "How will that show them...anything?" "IT'S SYMBOLIC OF MY LOVE FOR AMERICA! It was in a movie. I saw it. Huge, YUUUGE film, blockbuster. People loved it. If I do it I too will be a blockbuster. I am a blockbuster. Paul." "Please, Mr. Trump..." "Please, get me another pie. I have to practice. Make sure it's still warm, but not TOO warm." Manafort sullenly went back to the kitchen to get the third of the twenty pies Donald had his chefs make. It was because of this they still hadn't eaten lunch. No one wanted to deliver to them anymore. Except the ones who'd pissed in Donald's shake. And Manafort could not eat from KFC one more time. "In fact, you know what? I have a fabulous idea. The best. Before I do it, find some homeless guy, right? And tell him I'm gonna present him with, I don't know, a pie for his service. Whatever. Who knows what those guys do. And then I'll fuck it." "No, please. This is the speech where you detail your plan to get rid of internet porn. We worked so hard on that speech and--" "Right in fronna that loser! The crowd will explode in laughter! Everyone will love me! And then I guess I'll have Melania come out, also naked, and lick it off. That'll get the guys to vote. RIGHT?" "Da." "Huh?" "Right."
"Eternity with Beelzebub, and all his hellish instruments of death, will be a picnic compared to five minutes with me and this pencil." - E. Blackadder, 1791 Questionable
words & pictures from John Linton Roberson SUPPORT MY SINFUL WORK AT PATREON!