Takes Advice from a Sentient Bird
Donald Trump stands alone on his desk, naked, with a new Secret Service agent, Trevett with The Blue Hair, in the Mar-a-Lago Oval Office. Staring out the window at some palm trees and man-made mounds of sand along man-made bodies of water, he starts flipping through his little black book of truth and questioning his existence.
“Why am I here?” he says to himself and Trevett, book-in-hand. “What is my purpose?”
“Maybe to be happy, to make others happy?” Trevett replies. Trump grunts in response.
A crude sketch of dancing Rick Perry, Rex Tillerson, and Scott Pruitt in a fountain of toxic oil sludge stands next to a drawing of Ben Carson performing a lobotomy on an alien while designing an apartment complex covered in barbed wire. Mottos to live by, such as ‘Question everything’, ‘Be yourself’, ‘Cry sometimes’ are scattered across similar masterpieces.
Trump, the President of the United States, looked at the third tenant and did so. Huge heaves and soft sobs escape from his delicate lips, his crackled, tiny hands rubbing his exposed midriff.
“What do I do?” he cackled, “Why does no one like me? Do I try to hard? What’s the best way to make friends? Will I always be alone?”
A flamingo crashes through the window and flings itself right into his gut.
“Question yourself, question everything!” the flamingo screams, “You know who you are and you know you are the best. Your sons are the best, one of your daughters is pretty okay, your current and past wives are the best, your left nipple is the best, and the last time you golfed here you made a hole-in-one on every hole.”
Trevett, gun drawn and quartered, aims at the Bird. The Donald, waves Trevett away as he realizes the bird is right.
“Bird, I know you’re right. I don’t think you can be in here though. I doubt you’ve paid the $100 thousand membership fee for access to this esteemed cereal mansion.”
The Bird replies, “I’m allowed in as I was your current wife’s lover back in ’98 so she said yesterday it was fine to come see you whenever I wanted to.”
“Acceptable Bird, you can stay. Trevett, you go sit in that corner.” As Trevett sulks over, Trump continues, “Bird, you made me realize I am the best, I will always be the best and the data will prove it.”
Pulling a smartphone out of the flamingo’s pocket, Trump googles those questions he had before. Looking at the first page of each search for about 30 seconds, he knows he has the answers.
“I know what I must do bird, I must relax for a little bit.”
Standing up, still naked, Trump walks over to his Xbox 360 and boots up Blackwater, the Kinect-based first-person shooter modeled after Betsy Devos’ brother’s mercenary corporation’s operations in North Africa.
“Bird, this is how I get in shape. I shoot some African rebels and duck and dodge from them and get to actually be a member of an elite task force.”
“Looks like fun, could I give it a go?” Trevett asks from the corner.
“I didn’t ask you Trevett, but it’s evident you need a touch-up on your recon work,” Trump replies, throwing the Xbox in the corner, “I have to do something anyway.”
As Trevett takes over, plugging the system back into the TV, Trump, still naked, walks to his desk and pulls out four American flags from the bottom drawer. He and Bird proceed to release each of their four humors onto each flag before pulling out the phone, snapping a photo, logging into Tweeter, and sending a tweet with the caption, ‘I AM THE BEST’ to the world.
Kirby Wilhelm is a third-year sociology major. A flamingo told them to write this story. You can reach them at firstname.lastname@example.org.