“It’s time to go, Grandpa,” Finnegan said.

“Go? Go where? I want to take a nap,” Joe said.

“The impeachment, Grandpa,” she said.

“Impeachment? That’s n-n-not right! I’ve barely been in office a year!” Joe pulled his arm away from hers and staggered back against his adjustable bed. He looked down at it in horror. “What have you done to the Oval Office?!? It looks like an old man lives here!”

“This is the residence, Joe,” Kamala said. “We are going to the impeachment trial of Donald Trump,” she said evenly

“How-how-how is he being impeached?” Joe asked, batting Finnegan away. “I’m President, dammit. How can I be impeached if he’s not even President anymore?”

“You aren’t being impeached, Joe. He is,” Kamala said calmly.

“But I’m President. I’m President! They should be impeaching me!” Joe said, his pajamas slipping down to his ankles.

“Is there anything else we can give him?” Kamala asked Finnegan.

“He’s on the max dose of the nootropics,” Finnegan said, trying to scrub oatmeal from her jumper.

“Can we give him anything?” Kamala asked. “I have to preside over the trial, I can’t sit beside him all day.”

“Maybe if Grandma wasn’t out of town,” Finnegan said ruefully.

“Where is Jill?” Kamala asked desperately.

“Preparing her lawsuit against Doctors Without Borders,” Finnegan said. “They refuse to deploy her.”

“Maisy!” Joe said. “Maisy! Where is my Grandson?”

“Shit,” Finnegan said. “Now I’ll have to give him another Miltown.” She began to rummage through the cart of pharmaceuticals.

“Is Maisy transitioning? That’s wonderful. In fact, someone in my office…”

“Maisy doesn’t exist,” Finnegan said through her teeth.

“I met him, he was a very charming fellow…” Kamala began.

“Maisy doesn’t exist,” Finnegan said again. “That’s an actor the family hired after she got into Dad’s meth. The real Maisy died years ago. The actor is transitioning and we had to back him or be exposed.

Finnegan found the tranquilizer and offered it to Joe.

“Milly, molly, moody,” Joe said delightedly and used his mouth to take it out of her hand, lapping along the palm for any crumbs.

“Are you a freshman in high school?” Joe asked his granddaughter.

“We have to go, Grandpa,” Finnegan said.

“Where to?” he asked

 


 

Meanwhile, back in Florida

“We have to go!’ the hair told the hat.

“Not without Darlene!” the hat howled, hunched protectively over his iguana.

“That is not you girlfriend!” the hair shouted. “That is a dead iguana!”

“She’s just frozen! She’ll thaw out!” the hat thrust against the iguana and both of its desiccated back legs snapped off. “Darlene! No! I LUV YEW!”

Donald came running out of Mar-a-Lago, a flailing lobster under each arm.

“Don-alled!” Melaina screeched, “You put those sea bugs down! They’ll have lobster on the plane!” The screen door slammed shut behind her as she waddled in flip-flops, desperate to keep her wet toenail polish out of the sand and cigarette butts.

“Darlene!” the hat wailed.

“McLobster!” Donald hollered.

“Hsssss!” the startled alligator hissed.

On the porch, Barron began to pick and strum “Wet Ass Pussy” on his brand new banjo.