When Hillary Met Donald

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November 18th 2016  |  0  |  Category: Satire  |  Author: Kambro  |  186 views

Sometimes I think back to that inglorious moment when he introduced himself. He was the presumptive Republican candidate, but he kept making idle threats to run as an Independent.

He was nothing more than a reluctant Republican to me. I don’t know why he was trying to talk to me. Maybe he thought I could be persuaded somehow to quit, but let’s be real here-I mean, he didn’t really didn’t stand a snow ball’s chance in hell in trying to persuade me, but he was persistent.

The guy never gave up. I didn’t think he was all that attractive either, but he did, and his choice of transportation was as loud as he was. I remember seeing this over sized, monster of a truck with side pipes belching out black smoke as it came to a stop. A window slowly rolled down and he called out to me in a very, macho, Brooklyn accented voice.

Donald: “Hey! Yeah, you! The girl with four eyes!”

He wasn’t shy about making what he obviously thought were truthful observations, but none the less, this man began his introduction with that line. It was bad enough he referred to me as a girl and the unfortunate fact that he happened to catch me with my reading glasses on, but I replied back to him with the candor that he deserved, and my own form of brutal honesty:

“Hey! Yeah you! The guy with the Alpaca hat on his head!”

You’d think he’d roll his window up and drive away, but not this guy. He grinned, and then stepped out of his carbon factory on wheels. He straightened his tie and started walking toward me. I frantically began fumbling with my keys to get inside my husband Bill’s Prius, but the damn thing started beeping and I heard the locks go “Clunk” as I helplessly watch them sink down and lock me out from my safe refuge.

I looked behind me to see if Bill was going to walk over and protect me from this man with bad hair, but nice clothes. Bill was pre-occupied with some little tramp,( as usual) and I here I was caught between two men with egos that eclipsed the sun.

My world suddenly became very dark. I turned around and there he was, Mr. Alpaca hair himself. I’ll have to admit, he looked much more attractive up close than he did far away. I turned to look back at Bill, but he was now wandering off with that hussy he was talking with.

Donald: “He doesn’t respect you.”

I was thinking, how can this guy just pull up in his ozone killing, gas guzzling truck, yell out his window and then insult me (and my husband) and think I’m turned on by it? I stared at him with those thoughts blaring through my head.

Donald: “Listen to me. Listen. To. Me.”

I rolled my eyes and told myself I will have nightmares from those words.

He kept going. I wanted to cut him off, but he talked so much, I couldn’t get a word in, so I waited for him to catch his breath, and then take control, but it had to wait until he stopped answering his own questions.

Donald: “You know, you know what? I don’t think you’re all that attractive, but you got spunk. I can see that. You really, really do, and I wanted to tell you that. I mean it. And the fact of the matter is, I mean, let’s be real here. Real honest, I can see why Bill does what he does. It’s sad, very, very sad. I think if we worked together though, and I mean this, I really, really do. I mean, inspite of your below average looks, I think you’re a pretty smart gal. I think we can-”

I cut him off. I couldn’t take his rhetoric any longer. I let him have it. I summoned up some the anger and resentment I had in reserve for Bill and let loose on this oxygen starved New Yorker.

“Well, Donald, I can tell you have a way with words, it’s not a good way, but you do have a way. I will tell you this as I stand here before you that I don’t think you realize that women are the largest untapped reservoir of talent in the world, and that when I become President of these here United States, I will make good on my belief that the rights of women and girls is the unfinished business of the 21st century.”

He looked at me with a slight grin and responded, as I knew he would, with the insight that has not come very far since his ancestor’s cave man days.

Donald: “Mm-hm. Mm-hm. Yup. I see your point of view. I really do, but let’s be honest shall we?  Yes. I knew you’d see it my way. Now, I can’t say you’re wrong, but I know you’re not right. So, let me break this down for you okay? Alright. You know something? You really, really wanna know something? I love women. I really do. I really, really do. I mean, look at my wife. Melania? Come on out here, would ya?”

I looked at my watch and pressed the button to unlock Bill’s stupid Prius. Thankfully it worked and I was finally able to get inside and at least sit down, but I don’t know how to drive so I had to wait for Bill to get back here and drive us back to D.C. I kept sending Bill texts.

 I must’ve sent thousands to him in the time I’ve been out here, but all I kept getting was his auto responder texts that said: “I feel your pain.”

That red-neck husband of mine will be feeling my wrath and then some pain if he doesn’t get his hillbilly self out here pretty damn quick.

I sat back in the seat and listened to Donald as he began, no, continued talking to me. I kind of realized that he’ll talk to anyone that he thinks will, or might be listening to him so I began to act like I cared what he had to say in hopes of giving him just enough attention for him to leave.

Donald: “You know, I had this dream, no. It was more like a vision. I don’t dream, because I mean, really, what a waste of time, right? Yes. I know it is. I mean, if I spent my time dreaming, would I have become the successful person that I am? Of course not!”

Hillary: “Geez Donald, You’re right. You really, really are.”

He started to buy into my acknowledgement. I knew I’d be a great President because of my superb skill in defeating the truth, or at least proving that allowing people to believe what they want to believe isn’t such a bad thing.

 Donald: “People told me, Donald-you’ll never be President. Why are you even trying? You’re not even a Republican! You know what I told them? Do ya? I tell you what I told them.  I’ll tell ya what I say. My whole life is about winning. I don’t lose often. In fact I almost never lose.”

I sat there and shook my head. I was in complete disbelief that someone thought they could beat me, Hillary Rodham Clinton. The Donald thought he could, obviously, but everyone in my circle knows how demanding I am. You don’t doubt the Queen.

It was at that very moment Bill must’ve finally got his pants back on because he told me he was on his way back to the car, so I decided to inform Mr. Trump of his completely  inaccurate assumption, or implication that I could lose the election.

Hillary: “I’ll let you know something. The polls, the pundits, the media are all predicting that I will be the next President. I’m sure you can’t deny those elements, unless of course you’re dreaming. I don’t think you realize that it’s most certainly likely that you will lose. This is one of those almost never times that you’ve had. Sorry, but you’ve lost.”

He smiled at me as he held up his index finger.

Donald: “Listen to me. Listen. To. Me. I will not fail. I will not lose. I’m not like you. I win. You’ll see. I know the election is rigged, but I don’t care. No, I don’t. I really don’t. It’s time to drain the swamp.”

And with those simple, (and I do mean simple) words, he turned around and walked back to his truck to where Melania was. I could see her sitting in the driver’seat, she was wearing one of those ‘Make America Great Again’ hats. She looked at me and cheerfully waved at me and I heard her say something in broken English about how she admired me for staying with Bill. After Donald was safely strapped inside, she pressed on the gas and that truck spewed out so much black smoke it nearly drowned out the Sun.

I noticed a rebel flag in the back window and could see some kind  of animal’s tail dangling from the antenna as the truck did continuous circles  and was spitting out large chunks of sod. Some pieces landed on the front of our battery powered, earth friendly, but over priced mode of transportation, but in all honesty I thought it was kind of cool in a way. I actually liked how the truck looked and sounded, and for that moment I wanted to be there. I sat and watched the truck as it swung around one last time and then made its way onto the street and disappeared from my view, except for the lingering thin cloud of smog that trailed behind it.

Bill finally made it back to the car and asked if I was alright. I told him what I always say: “I suppose I could have stayed home and baked cookies and had teas.”

Bill leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and said in his soft, southern accent:

Bill: “Now Hil, don’t doubt yourself.”

I looked at him and tried to smile, but I’m not that way.

We only had short drive back to D.C., but I couldn’t stop thinking about Donald. No, I wasn’t in love with him. He was annoying, but there was still an odd attraction I had to him.

As Bill and I pulled up the gate of the House I knew I’d be re-occupying in January, It’s like Bill was reading my mind and predicting the future.

Bill : “Welcome home , Mrs. President!”

I liked the sound of it, and couldn’t wait to hear from that boisterous Donald when he calls and congratulates me on winning.

“Almost never?” Yeah we’ll see about that, Donald.


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