Once he got his hands on something, he remade it in his own image.
Jimmie wondered if he was getting a Trump makeover. He was already wearing a suit and tie to work. In college, he’d told his roommate that if he ever got a job that required a tie, to strangle him with it and drag his body to the curb to be taken out with the trash.
Now Jimmie was going to be living in a Trump building. How long before he started tanning and turned the color of Cheetos dust? How long before he grew his thinning hair long enough to comb it over his receding hairline in the Trumpster’s signature style?
He looked at himself in a passing mirror and tried to smile, but all he could do was smirk.
It was already happening.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Boomtown
T rump swaggered into the Tyson Room and headed straight to his seat. Jimmie headed for the corner, where he tried to look invisible by sucking his gut in.
“All right, guys, what is it?” Trump said. “This better be important. I was midbronzing all the way down in the subbasement.”
The cabinet members looked around anxiously. Finally, it was Secretary of State Omarosa who spoke.
“The United Kingdom seems to be preparing for an escalation.”
Trump snorted. “What are we talking about? Another insult? These guys are terrible at insults.”
“No—this time they’ve taken actual action.”
“What, like recalling their ambassador or something?”
Omarosa shook her head. “They’ve recalled Patrick Stewart. Also Emily Blunt and Andrew Lincoln.”
“Aw, crap,” interjected the secretary of transportation, Clint Eastwood. “That means no more Walking Dead . I gotta find out what happens to Daryl!”
“Just read the comic books,” grumbled Corey Lewandowski.
“Why don’t you read the comic books?” snarled Eastwood with such a menacing tone that Lewandowski paled and becamevery interested in his glass of water. Jimmie made a mental note to bring that moment up the next time Lewandowski got in his face (not that Jimmie would do any better if he got a full blast of Eastwood).
“So what?” Trump shrugged. “Let the Brits go crawling back to their fog and their bars that close at eleven.”
“Bringing their citizens home means they expect things to turn violent,” said Omarosa.
“They’re damn right it’s about to get violent!” said Secretary of Defense Nugent. “Just give the word, boss, and it’s boomtown at Buckingham Place.”
“This is not an emergency, folks,” said Trump. “What have any of those people actually done lately? Nada, except for that Walking Dead guy, and nobody knows he’s British. I didn’t find out until my first security briefing. These guys think this gives them leverage on us? They got nothing. They’re running scared.”
Now Chris Christie piped in. “You let me know what airports these guys are flying out of. I can make sure it’s a looong time before they actually make it across the pond.”
“LAX, most likely. Hartsfield for Andrew Lincoln,” said Eastwood.
Christie was already speed-dialing a number on his cell. “LAX and ATL. The full Fort Lee,” he said, then hung up. He looked at Trump. “It’s done.”
For no reason that Jimmie could figure, Christie then stared right at him with a look that said, You’re next .
“Let’s get the word out that these guys think they’re too good for us,” Trump said to Lewandowski. “Get into the next news cycle before the queen gets a chance to give her own reason.Let me know if it looks like they’re actually getting their message out, and I’ll call Michelle Obama an ugg-o or something, drown them out.”
“Done,” said Lewandowski.
“Hey, can we do something really nice for the French?” asked Trump. “That’ll really get under their pale English skin.”
“I’ll get my staff on it,” said Omarosa.
“All right, enough of those guys. Is that it?”
“The governor of Kansas has finally called, looking for disaster funding to clean up after last
Jimmie wondered if he was getting a Trump makeover. He was already wearing a suit and tie to work. In college, he’d told his roommate that if he ever got a job that required a tie, to strangle him with it and drag his body to the curb to be taken out with the trash.
Now Jimmie was going to be living in a Trump building. How long before he started tanning and turned the color of Cheetos dust? How long before he grew his thinning hair long enough to comb it over his receding hairline in the Trumpster’s signature style?
He looked at himself in a passing mirror and tried to smile, but all he could do was smirk.
It was already happening.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Boomtown
T rump swaggered into the Tyson Room and headed straight to his seat. Jimmie headed for the corner, where he tried to look invisible by sucking his gut in.
“All right, guys, what is it?” Trump said. “This better be important. I was midbronzing all the way down in the subbasement.”
The cabinet members looked around anxiously. Finally, it was Secretary of State Omarosa who spoke.
“The United Kingdom seems to be preparing for an escalation.”
Trump snorted. “What are we talking about? Another insult? These guys are terrible at insults.”
“No—this time they’ve taken actual action.”
“What, like recalling their ambassador or something?”
Omarosa shook her head. “They’ve recalled Patrick Stewart. Also Emily Blunt and Andrew Lincoln.”
“Aw, crap,” interjected the secretary of transportation, Clint Eastwood. “That means no more Walking Dead . I gotta find out what happens to Daryl!”
“Just read the comic books,” grumbled Corey Lewandowski.
“Why don’t you read the comic books?” snarled Eastwood with such a menacing tone that Lewandowski paled and becamevery interested in his glass of water. Jimmie made a mental note to bring that moment up the next time Lewandowski got in his face (not that Jimmie would do any better if he got a full blast of Eastwood).
“So what?” Trump shrugged. “Let the Brits go crawling back to their fog and their bars that close at eleven.”
“Bringing their citizens home means they expect things to turn violent,” said Omarosa.
“They’re damn right it’s about to get violent!” said Secretary of Defense Nugent. “Just give the word, boss, and it’s boomtown at Buckingham Place.”
“This is not an emergency, folks,” said Trump. “What have any of those people actually done lately? Nada, except for that Walking Dead guy, and nobody knows he’s British. I didn’t find out until my first security briefing. These guys think this gives them leverage on us? They got nothing. They’re running scared.”
Now Chris Christie piped in. “You let me know what airports these guys are flying out of. I can make sure it’s a looong time before they actually make it across the pond.”
“LAX, most likely. Hartsfield for Andrew Lincoln,” said Eastwood.
Christie was already speed-dialing a number on his cell. “LAX and ATL. The full Fort Lee,” he said, then hung up. He looked at Trump. “It’s done.”
For no reason that Jimmie could figure, Christie then stared right at him with a look that said, You’re next .
“Let’s get the word out that these guys think they’re too good for us,” Trump said to Lewandowski. “Get into the next news cycle before the queen gets a chance to give her own reason.Let me know if it looks like they’re actually getting their message out, and I’ll call Michelle Obama an ugg-o or something, drown them out.”
“Done,” said Lewandowski.
“Hey, can we do something really nice for the French?” asked Trump. “That’ll really get under their pale English skin.”
“I’ll get my staff on it,” said Omarosa.
“All right, enough of those guys. Is that it?”
“The governor of Kansas has finally called, looking for disaster funding to clean up after last
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