The Trump is President (Light 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!”


The Trump chuckled and clapped and spun like a dreidel.

Cha-cha-cha’d across his vast marble table.

His laughter rung through every floor of his tower.

“I’m the President!” he said, “And now I’ve got POWER!!!”


Down on the streets, the people looked up with a start.

(For the Trump’s laughter could tear a whole city apart.)


He swung from crystal and gold chandeliers

And wondered what he should do for four years.

Four years – four orbits of Earth around sun -

Four short years to have some Trumpian fun.


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

His six foot high portrait and golden brass knuckles.

Then departed his castle, his golden mane flowing

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


The capital city sparkled like silver.

And unto its people, a Trump was delivered.

As Presidents go, he was unorthodox. 

His motorcade alone stretched thirty-two blocks!


But that’s why they loved him, he was just like them.

A regular Joe! (Plus a few billion to spend.)


They threw a parade, the best ever thrown.

They carried his speech to parts known and unknown.

And when the time came, he raised one tiny right hand

And swore to uphold all the laws of the land.


(NOTE: his fingers should be crossed behind his back)


An Inaugural Ball was thrown in his name.

His dancing was stiff but nobody complained.

They gave toasts in his honor, at his feet threw bouquets.

He was still up at dawn, drinking the milk of their praise.


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

While one fed him burgers on the whitest of breads.


That was how the Trump concluded Day One.

Oh, the Presidency was going to be fun!


A few hours later, he was shaken awake.

“Mr. President, you must attend matters of state.”

“Oh bother,” he said, “Can’t it wait until noon?

The world will keep spinning if I stay in my room.”


The Trump put his pillow back over his noggin,

But they dragged him downstairs on a toboggan.

“There’s work to be done! There’s no time to waste!”

“Yes, but this office,” he said, “Is not quite to my taste.”


The Oval Office he found just a touch too sedate.

“Is there any way we could make it a bit more ornate?

Perhaps a gold throne or a chocolate fountain? 

A scale model Rushmore with my face on the mountain?”


 (He resolved to hire his own decorator. 

The dump didn’t have even its own escalator.)


“Yes, sir!” they responded, “Whatever is needed.

But the work on your desk must not be superseded.

There’s bills to sign! There are wars to be won!

A stack of briefing books to be read by the ton.


Congress is waiting for a jiff of your time!

There’s Presidents and Kings and Premiers on the line!

And when all that is dealt with, there’s still more to do.

The Girls Scouts are waiting for a photo or two.”


“Ugh,” moaned the Trump, letting his head hit the desk.

“What have I done? How can I get out of this mess?”

“One more thing, sir. After work, if there’s time,

We’d like you to solve world peace - and to do it by nine.”


That night, the Trump tucked himself into bed.

He felt so exhausted, so low energy, so dead.


When morning came ‘round, he’d decided to quit.

He’d call a press conference and that would be it.

He’d go back to his tower and his club on the beach.

And if anyone called, he’d be just out of reach.


Then he flipped on the telly, hopping from channel to channel

His finely tuned ears acting like two solar panels.

“They’re talking about ME,” he whispered delighted.

Their denunciation and praise left him equally excited.


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

Not from any great love for duty or nation,

But because everyone now spoke his name.

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


It had all been worth it! All the work! All the guile!

And The Trump promised himself, “I’ll be here for a while.”