A Wasteland President, Part 3

Trump was escorted from the ruins of Mar-a-Lago by a rough-handed orc. The beast reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t quite place it. All he knew was that he wanted to ask it questions, to ask it advice. It was far more attuned to this world than he was, seeing as how the world seemed so different from the one he had known less than three hours ago.

“You’ll take me to your leader?” he asked the orc. “Wait, what am I saying? I am your leader.”

The orc merely grunted, pulling Trump’s arm so that what was attached to it would follow. The group of orcs stopped at a circular steel door several blocks away.

“I hope this was made with American steel,” Trump said, glancing at the green beast. It didn’t respond. Trump was hauled before a short man wearing a tattered vampire’s cloak. The man had his back turned to the President.

“All is well, I presume?” Bannon’s voice seemed to rotate his body to face Trump.

“Steve! Thank god! I haven’t seen you in hours! How’s the country holding up?”

“Oh you know, we’re that thin dividing line between civilization and floating in space.”

“I took a chance with you, Bannon. Glad it’s paid off. You served the country well in the few hours I’ve been gone.”

“It’s been a hundred years, you cuck.”

“One hundred years?! You shittin’ me?!”

A Wasteland President, Part 2

A Wasteland President, Part 4


A Wasteland President, Part 2

With the heat from the dead Secret Service agent nearly spent, Trump wondered what would come next. He was all alone finally. No one to distract him from what was really important.

“I’ll just wait for someone to come along. Yep. That’s the plan.”
“But nothing came along”
” Wait, did I say that out loud? Maybe if I talk loudly enough, someone will come. They always do. They have to.”

Something that sounded like a car engine came closer.  One wall came crashing down, chunks of debris being unceremoniously flung to forgotten corners.

“Are you Trump?” an orcish voice asked from the gloom.

“I couldn’t be anyone else,” he responded.

As the smoke cleared, Trump glimpsed a large spiked vehicle. Green muscular beings poured out of it, brandishing chains and the like.

“What do you want?” Trump asked the orcs. “Have you come to save me?”

“No one we’ve ever encountered has put it quite like that,” the one orc who looked like the leader said.

A Wasteland President, Part 1

A Wasteland President, Part 3

The Dark Slight

The bat
Trods on that yellow plane
Marveling at current enemies
Wondering why they seem so distracted

They look positively enthralled
At some scene taking place within their circle
A scene that excludes any hero
Especially the winged one

Much to the winged one’s dismay
The circle tightens
But the bat perseveres
Elbowing into the center of the circle
A bat is stretched tight and beautiful across a steel contraption

All the villains are laughing
Not cackling
Just laughing for the fun of it
Bets are placed
For when the bat will finally break across the steel sword

The winged one waves both dark gloved hands in a flurry
But no one noticed
Was he irrelevant?
Or simply not in the right body at the right time?