Read President Trump’s Speech Declaring a National Emergency

 

FRIDAY AFTERNOON, LEAVING THE ROSE GARDEN

“That was an absolute rambling mess, Donald,” the hair told him.

“It was incoherent. Just a wreck,” the hat agreed.

He was riding on Donald’s shoulder like some deranged parrot as the man stalked through the halls of the White House. Staffers kept popping out of offices and withdrawing, slamming doors, clicking locks into place. Ringing phones were silenced. Someone could be heard being violently sick into a trashcan.

With regal dignity, Donald drew himself to his full height and began to strut. “Coherent isn’t consistent with my brand,” he said.

“Sarah wrote you such a nice speech,” the hair said. “Why couldn’t you just have read it? You did such a good job at the State of the Union.”

“Focused like a laser,” the hat said. “Like a laser.”

“I engage,” Donald sniffed. “I beguile and bedazzle. Off the cuff. Maverick, but not in the McCain way. Ford F-150 has the greatest towing capacity in its class. Classy.”

“Is he stroking out?” the hat asked the hair.

“No, but something is going on,” the hair replied. “His mind is a raging storm of fast food jingles.”

“Classy,” Donald said again. “Classy, classy, classy. I contain billions of nuclears.”

Sarah stepped out of her office and directly into Donald’s path.

“Sir?” she asked.

Donald walked past her.

“Sir? Mr. President?”

Donald stopped and turned. “Yes, young lady? Can I help you?”

“That’s Sarah,” the hair hissed. “You know her.”

“Pie, Donald,” the hat said. “That’s Pie. She’s your White House Press Secretary. Sort of.”

“Ah, yes,” Donald said. “Pie, dear squishy. How have you been? Tremendous, I hope?”

“Sir, was the speech I wrote bad?” Sarah asked. “Did you not like it or something.” She nervously shifted her considerable weight from foot to foot.

“It was a tremendous speech. Just great,” Donald said. “I really enjoyed listening to you give it. It was better than Cats.”

“No, sir. I mean the speech I wrote for the National Emergency Declaration. You didn’t read it just now at the press conference.”

“Did you see Cats? Terrible, just terrible. The whole set looked like a pile of garbage. Gay guys dressed like some sort of animal came out into the audience. Ridiculous. I hate theater. The characters never come out into the audience when you go to the movies.”

Sarah bit her lip and tried to hold back her tears. “Yes, Mr. President,” she whispered.

Donald reached out and squeezed her right breast twice. “Womp, womp!” he said, smiling, wrinkles digging into the leather of his face, cheekbones struggle to rise through the tough flesh. The tears started then, rivulets of mascara running down her face. She cradled the breast he had fondled like a wounded fawn as Donald turned and wandered away.

 

Donald Trump makes secret White Power Signal during racist press conference.