Rudy Giuliani says Trump is ‘honest’ because facts are ‘in the eye of the beholder’

“Sign the pardons, Donald,” the hat whispered, sitting sideways so he could bend his bill toward the elderly man’s ear.

“But what if they testify anyway?” the hair said into his other, a speaking tendril dangling down.

The Oval Office was filled with tense faces: Kellyanne, her lips pursed like an angry asshole. Ivanka, trying to knit her paralyzed brow. Bill, wondering who everyone was while everyone wondered who he was. John Bolton’s mustache, dreaming of an ocean of furriner blood while he let his host coast on auto-pilot on Setting 5 (Concerned Interest, Semi-Sincere.) DJ, on alert, knowing someone in this very room knew he was sleeping with his brother’s wife. Eric, staring intensely at the Lego blocks he was trying to fit together. Jared, worried he would never get his Legos back from Eric. Pie, wondering about lunch, even though she had just had third-breakfast.

“Sign them, Donald,” the hat said. “Look at how nicely they are all printed out.”

“Why is there an M&M in here?” the hair asked, flicking the earwax-coated candy away.

“I HAVE BEEN BETRAYED!” Donald roared. Almost everyone in the room flinched. Two seconds later, John Bolton’s body did as well.

“When I PAY one of you sons-a-bitches off, you are supposed to STAY PAID OFF!” he raged. “Where’s my lawyer, goddammit? Where is he?”

Through a doggy-door crudely glued into one of the Oval Office entrances, Rudy scuttled in, the sharp tips of his feet digging into the carpet. The crowd of cronies, courtiers, and pupae drew back in revulsion.

“Mr. President?” he asked in stroke victim slur.

“You said this wouldn’t happen!” Donald yelled.

“Now, now, Mr. President,” the bloated head said.

“You said this COULDN’T happen,” Donald spat.

“Now, now, Mr. President,” Rudy said, a little blood running out of the corner of his mouth.

“You ASSURED me! I was ASSURED! I had ASSURANCES!” Donald threw an empty Diet Coke can at the lawyer-thing and it scurried away.

“Out! All of you out! OUT!” Donald screamed, waving his arms. They stampeded for the door, pushing and shoving each other in their terror. Kellyanne was pushed down, lightly trampled and was crying out orgasmically before DJ helped drag her away.

“Sign them, Donald, sign the pardons,” the hat said again, giving the old man’s head a slow massage. “Trust in me, Donald, just in me.”

The hair made a snide choking sound.

“I’m part of you Donald,” the hat said.

“The best part of you,” the hat said, who wasn’t really part of Donald at all.