On Vlad’s Agent Orange (Moscow’s Asset Governing America, MAGA)
A suggestion for Family Guy episode in which the dog, Brian, assumes the name Donald, then runs for and is elected to the office of President of the United States.
PRESIDENT: The Democrats, they have been after me over the Doggie Don hoax since before the election. The whole investigation, a hoax. Disgraceful.
REPORTER: But Mr. President, during the campaign, didn’t you say, “Petsmart, if you’re listening, send me a pallet of nice chewy Milkbone biscuits?”
PRESIDENT: I was obviously joking, OK?
REPORTER: And didn’t you sniff all the butts at the G7 meeting in Biarritz? If you are, in fact, a dog, you clearly cannot continue to be President of the United States.
PRESIDENT: What can I say? I’m friendly. In fact, I’m the friendliest. The friendliest President ever. But, you see, I’m also very, very smart. My uncle was a supergenius at MIT. The things I could tell you about those people. Not like Obama, who was clueless.
REPORTER: And you bury what’s left over from your meals in holes you dig on the White House lawn?
PRESIDENT: Economy. The waste before I came into office! Best economy ever.
REPORTER: Uh, Mr. President, you walk around the White House on all fours. You howl out the windows. You scratch at the door to be let out to pee. You lift your leg to do so. You stick your tongue out and pant. You are covered with fur. You have a wet nose. Your ears hang to your shoulders. You have paws and a tail. All this seems distinctively doglike.
PRESIDENT: You people. All you do is pick and pick and pick. Trying to turn up something against me. Fake news. Once, just once, I would like to hear one of you people say, would you like me to scratch your tummy?
REPORTER: OK. Let’s get one thing settled. Did you chew up the sofas in the Lincoln bedroom?
PRESIDENT: Fake news.
REPORTER: But there was fur like yours all over the floor.
PRESIDENT: OK. Go ahead, make personal attacks. Yes, I’m a bit more hirsute that most. Satisfied? But who says this was mine? Ask Kayleigh, she’ll tell you. Or Fido, my new Director of National Intelligence. Absolutely no evidence this was my fur. They made it all up.
REPORTER: But Mr. President, people don’t have fur. Never mind. OK. Would you be willing to submit a sample of your fur for DNA analysis?
PRESIDENT: Sorry, I’m under contract for grooming, uh, hair cutting. Toss the stick.
REPORTER: The stick?
PRESIDENT: That stick, over there. You throw it. I run and grab it and bring it back to you.
REPORTER: Uh, OK. Hey, this is fun.
PRESIDENT: You know, I’m looking for a new Press Secretary.
Copyright 2020. Robert D. Shepherd. All rights reserved.
For more pieces about the Trump maladministration, go here: https://bobshepherdonline.wordpress.com/category/trump-don-the-con/
For more humor by Bob Shepherd, go here: https://bobshepherdonline.wordpress.com/category/humor/
For short stories by Bob Shepherd (and some pieces about fictions and fiction writing), go here: https://bobshepherdonline.wordpress.com/category/short-stories/