A Wasteland President, Part 6

“What’s this all about?” Trump asked, looking a little concerned.

“Donald, you have to understand that things are more complex than what’s on the surface.”

“I understand jobs. I understand healthcare.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“For god sake’s Barack, just tell him!”

“Bannon was just playing you, Donald. He’s not your friend. He’s the hand twisting you the wrench, turning the nut of the American people.”

“You’re the wrench, Donald.”

“Yeah. I think I got it.” Trump’s face drooped like he was just stabbed by a dagger. “No, no, I don’t believe it! Why would he do it? Why would he betray me?”

“Not sure. But Steve doesn’t care about ancient files from the FBI headquarters,” Barack said.

“Maybe, maybe not. A little road trip never killed anyone though.”

Trump’s faced brightened. Even if he didn’t agree with them, a road trip sounded fucking terrific.

“I’m not trekking across the U.S.A just to fall into trap!” Barack said. The sky was turning dark and thunder was brewing in the background. The night’s version of coffee. Trump inhaled the fresh air.

“I think Michelle has a good idea. And besides, you two are used to travelling a lot,” Trump replied.

Michelle rolled her eyes. “You’re going to get us killed, I know it.”

“Donald. There’s been a power shift. You’re going to have to…adapt,” Barack added.

“What he’s trying to say is that you’re not in charge anymore.”

“I could go live with Bannon. Live with him in his vault. Re-build the wall and everything will be just fine. We could ride out the apocalypse together!”

“You’re going back into the trunk,” Michelle said. Trump never knew what hit him. He regained consciousness twenty minutes later, seething in the darkness.

A Wasteland President, Part 5

A Wasteland President, Part 7

 

 

 

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