The Trump is President (Dark Version)

The Trump is President!

 

The votes were in, the election was done.

An incredible surprise - the Trump had won!

“I’m the new Prez!” he said with a shout.

“Though, of course,” he demurred, “It was never in doubt.”

 

The Trump smoothed out his fur and puffed out his chest.

“Now the whole world knows that I am the best.

The thinkingest thinker, the financialest wizard.

I buried more folks than the snowiest blizzard!”

 

What had it taken to reach these new heights?

Not much: some speeches, a few personal slights.

But, above all, he’d made an arrangement:

“Just give me your love, I’ll provide entertainment!”

 

And entertain them he had like a true master showman.

(But few of them read the long bill of goods that he’d sold them.)

 

The Trump chuckled and clapped and spun like a dreidel.

“I’m gonna drain the whole swamp if I’m able.

For each rat bureaucrat, an unfond farewell.

For each stuffy old building, a Trump brand hotel.”

 

“My ideas are huge, my plans are tremendous.

The wall I will build will be double stupendous.

Each thing that I do will be better than lastest.

And if any object, I’ll take a long look at their taxes.”

 

So he packed up his stuff: his gold baubles and buckles,

His six foot high portrait and golden brass knuckles.

Then he departed his tower, his golden mane flowing

And flew due south to D.C. where a cold wind was blowing.

 

“I’ve arrived!” he announced, dropping his bags with the clerk.

“Now fetch me my pen and let’s get to work.”

 

Most Presidents sign into law things that they favor.

The Trump, instead, shaved away laws like a razor.

Goodbye to the rules governing airborne pollution.

Au revoir to school standards that teach evolution.

 

As for all of the members of a certain religion

Henceforth, they’re considered a pre-existing condition.

He signed tariffs and tax breaks and immigrant bans.

(It all took some time due to the small size of his hands.)

 

Then he yawned the great yawn of a beast needing sleep.

And asked to be carried to the President’s suite.

Five valets tucked the Trump into his bed

And one fed him burgers on the whitest of breads.

 

In the morning, he awoke to noise from outside.

He peeked out the window and saw a vast swelling tide.

 

Thousands had gathered to express their dismay

At what the Trump had done on the previous day.

A slow smile spread from cheek A to cheek B.

“All of those protestors protesting little old me?”

 

He flipped on the telly, hopping from channel to channel

His finely tuned ears acting like two solar panels.

“They’re saying my name,” he whispered time after time.

He listened, enraptured, to those pundits opine.

 

Those same stuffed shirts who’d laughed at him once.

Who’d called him a clown, a buffoon, and a dunce.

Yet now they hung on the Trump’s every word.

He’d exposed those frauds for what they were – absurd.

 

And just then, he felt his heart swell with inflation.

Not from any great love for duty or nation,

But because they all - ALL of them - now knew his name.

He’d achieved the Trump’s dream of international fame.

 

“I’m famous!” he breathed, “And nothing else matters.”

Then one stony tear fell from his eye to the floor, and shattered.

 

The moment divine, he enjoyed its enthrall.

He enjoyed it for twenty-nine seconds in all.  

After that, in a blink, he was seized with a fear.

He realized, aghast, he’d be out in four years.

 

“Oh no!” he wailed, “Could this end so soon?”

Just four more years in that big oval room?

Just four scant orbits of Earth around sun,

Then he’d be right back to where he’d begun:

 

A nothing. A nobody. A footnote. A loser.

Well not him! Not the Trump! Not this battle cruiser!

No, he’d stick around for another full term.

He’d make all of his doubters wriggle and squirm.

 

He rushed down the hall past all of the paintings.

The past Prezzies upon them had a single mass fainting.

For they knew him, that orange interloper

That liar, con artist, and serial groper.

 

But they were all gone, just ghosts from the past.

The Trump was in charge and he’d make it last.

He lassoed his best tie and affixed his best smile

Then announced to the press, “I’ll be here a while.”

 

The Trump made it this far through unnatural selection.

Only you and your friends can stop Trump’s re-election.