James Gordon, the Secret Service agent on duty outside the Oval Office, heard a thud and rushed inside.
“Are you all right, Mr. President?” he said, swiveling around with his gun drawn. He rushed over to Trump who was staring down at the floor, murmuring to no one in particular, “I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.”
“What the—,” Mr. Gordon cried as he knelt down to inspect the figure lying on the carpet. He looked up and said, “What happened here, Mr. President? Is this who I think it is?”
Trump stumbled over to the couch, slumped down and whispered, “Rudy Rudy.”
“What happened to his head, Sir? Why is it lying next to his body?”
“I don’t know,” said Mr. Trump. “I was showing him the beautiful scimitar that MBS (Mohammad Bin Salman, leader of Saudi Arabia) just sent me. The best scimitar, see those diamonds and rubies and emeralds in the handle? Only the best for me from him. It’s very sharp that blade, apparently, I wouldn’t know, though, but it looks sharp, the best tempered steel I was told, American steel, not Chinese.”
“Sir! Please focus. I need to know what happened here. I want to help you but I need to know how it is that Rudy’s head has been sliced off and is lying next to his bloody body with the scimitar a few feet away. Was there anyone else in the room?”
Trump shook his head. “It’s all a blur, really. Rudy came over to talk about his Ukraine mess and when I showed him my new gift from MBS, he grabbed it and started tossing it in the air and catching it. I think he was kinda drunk, if you want to know the truth.” Trump cradled his head in his hands.
“And then what happened?” Mr. Gordon said and holstered his gun.
“Then … then … the next thing I know, the sword came down fast and sliced off his head, it was terrible just terrible, I can’t believe he did that to himself, the fool.”
“You’re telling me Mr. Giuliani did this deliberately?”
“Uh, yes, I think you’re right about that. I told you it seemed sharp. I think it was just too much for him finally, the Ukraine thing, his divorce … whaddawe do now?” Trump looked at Mr. Gordon, eyes red and furtive behind his pale face.
“I need to call this in,” Mr. Gordon said and whipped out his cell phone.
“Who are you going to call?” Trump said, agitated, standing up, pacing. “The press can’t get hold of this, they just can’t, more fodder for the Dems, witch hunt, witch hunt they can’t know about this.”
“Sir. We have to bring in the Director. We have to follow the law.”
“The law, the law, what has it ever done for me, the law?”
“We have to do it this way, Sir. Please sit back down. Should we call your doctor?”
“Um,” Trump said looking from side to side. “Uh, no. Don’t call the doctor, I’ll be fine. I just need to lie down and watch TV.”
“All right. But don’t talk to anyone, not even Melania. And most important, don’t Tweet!”
* * *
The following morning, Jim Acosta of CNN attempted to get a statement from Lindsay Graham outside his office.
Graham, holding up his hand, said, “As even you must know, this is a grave situation.” Buttoning his jacket, he added, “I’m on my way to comfort his family.”
“But, sir, can you tell us how Mr. Giuliani came to have his head separated from his body in the Oval Office, with President Trump present?”
“No, Jim, I can’t. But if you’re implying that the President had anything do to with this, you’re insane.”
“Are you aware that no fingerprints were found on the scimitar?”
Graham squinted. “I don’t know anything about that, Jim, and if you put out that fake news, you will be sued! Now excuse me.” Graham turned to rush off.
“Were the local police called in?”
“This was an in-house matter, Jim,” Graham said over his shoulder. “We take care of our own.”
“That you do, Sen. Graham, you certainly do.”
Rosie Sorenson is a humor writer in the San Francisco Bay Area. You can contact her at: RosieSorenson29@yahoo.com.
From The Progressive Populist, December 15, 2019
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