“Kyle,” President Trump says, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder, “Your country needs your help once more.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, feeling a weight settle on you that is soon borne up by welling pride. “I will do anything for America.”

“Please have a seat,” he says, motioning you to a chair. Settling into his office chair he asks, ”Can I offer you anything? A Diet Coke? A McLean? They’ll make one for you if I ask them.”

“No, sir. Thank you, sir,” you say. You watch The President fidget in his chair and mumble. He slaps a large red button and a Diet Coke rises from the surface of the desk, tendrils of white vapor spilling out around it.

“You sure?” he asks. “Ice cold. Ice. They’ll hurt your teeth. You need strong teeth.” The President opened his mouth and clacked his teeth together alarmingly loud.

“No thank you, sir,” you say again.

“I’m talking to the boy,” you hear the President mutter.

“Chopper ride OK? Helicopter, I guess. I know how you young kids are. They love the chopper,” the President asks.

“Yes, sir,” you say. The air in the Oval Office is close and there is the faint smell of something putrid. You look down at your feet and see a large stain that has spread out from under the Oval Office desk. It is dry now and dark. You scuff if with your foot gently.

You look up at the sound of the President opening his Diet Coke. You watch him begin to drink it, choke briefly, then finish the bottle and drop it to the floor uncapped.

“Nectar of the gods, young man,” the President says hoarsely. “Am-bro-sia? You know that word? Ambrosia?”

“Yes, sir,” you say.

“I drink maybe twenty of these a day, right fellas?” the President asks.

You know you are alone in the Oval Office with the President and resist the urge to look behind you.

“Ah, you two don’t know nothin’” the President says.

“Ballots, Kyle, ballots are the issue. That’s why I had you sprung from jail. Somewhere in this swamp city is a cache of ballots they are going to use to vote me out of office. My top advisors have assured me of this.” The President runs his hand through his hair and touches the “Make America Great Again” hat sitting on his desk. “Yes, top advisors,” he mumbles. “I need you to find these ballots and destroy them before the Democrats can use them to steal the election.”

The President stares at you intently and asks, “Will you help me, Kyle?”

DO YOU accept the President’s call to adventure? TURN TO PAGE 5

DO YOU refuse and return home to an uncertain future for all humanity? TURN TO PAGE 100