(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Real “Fiber” Haters Club)

Donnie: So what kind of fruit do you think he likes?

Ben: Fruit sir?

Donnie: Yeah, for a basket.

Ben: For who?

Donnie: Who do you think Benfred? Who I have been fawning and frothing over lately?

Ben: Hope still?

Donnie: No Ben.

Ben: But you do stare at her pictures a lot in that little candle lit shrine in the closet just off the mock Oval Office here in the Treehouse.

Donnie: No Ben! Not Hope! Guess already!!

Ben: I really don’t know sir. I can’t read your mind.

Donnie: I know, it’s like a steel trap.

Ben: It is a trap alright sir.

Donnie: C’mon, it’s for Brett. What kind of fruit should I get in a basket for him? And jams … yeah, maybe jams … everybody loves jams right? … or is it preserves?

Ben: Jellies too sir.

Donnie: Dammit Benfred, don’t add another … shit confuses me enough with just two. Do I call Ahmad at the deli for a bagel with JAM and extra extra butter? Do I call the Ahmad at the deli for a bagel with PRESERVES and extra extra butter? Do I send ICE to pick up the order? He got lucky that last time by the way. The two is enough Ben without you throwing a fucking wild card “Jelly” in the mix!

Ben: Sorry sir, I know, three could be  a lot.

Donnie: What about muffins? Do you include muffins in something like this?

Ben: Well, some do and fiber is important.

Donnie: It is! It’s healthy I’ve heard. That’s why my McDonalds always comes in a bun…

Ben: … but that’s not really fiber….

Donnie: … and it’s especially important in a movement, you need people of questionable “fiber” and low opinions right? ’cause this IS a movement Benfred. Number one? Don’t you be fooled by what the fake news sprays around, and, number two? This has been a real movement ever since the let go …

Ben: ?

Donnie: … get go, sorry. Since the get go. Since day one.

Ben: And two sir.

Donnie: Exactly. And all the days after that.

Ben: We all the know the movement sir, a proud movement, hopped on right behind the horses pullin’ the Trump wagon wheel backwards, shovels in hand, longcoats and half gallon hats and fedoras and bowlers, and, just like you said, since day one. It’s healthy two. Nature’s broom. Gotta keep regular.

Donnie: Oh, I like that.

Ben: What’s that sir?

Donnie: Keeping regular, like a regular Joe. A regular Joe movement…

Ben: … Yes sir! Go with it …

Donnie: … don’t stop me … regular Joe’s gotta movement too right? It’s ME. I’m their movement! And we tell ’em it’s constitutional. Regular Joe’s eat that constitutional shit up, even though they don’t understand it.

Ben: You still have your constitution pamphlet from the tour?

Donnie: Damn straight I do. Know it inside and out, very inspirational, especially the pictures … I memorialized all the pictures … love that one of the tall guy with the beard and long hat. A daily constitutional reminder of a movement …

Ben: … exactly sir. Keep going … you’re on a roll …

Donnie: … I am! … see this Ben? No one sees this … or reports on it … when I get going … when I get this whip smart genius ticking … I frighten even myself with the ticking … frighten so many people and so many nations with the ticking … like a doomsday clock … on a roll indeed…

Ben: … whole wheat I hope?

Donnie: (screeching halt) What?!

Ben: Whole wheat? The roll? The one you’re on? Good fiber? I’m kidding?

Donnie: Who the hell eats whole wheat rolls Benfred? Tree huggers smelling of pitched hooley and whales? Jesus Benfred!

Ben: But?

Donnie: No! None of that mongrelizing of the bread crap! This is a whitebread muffin movement Benfred!

Ben: Fiber pills then maybe? Just in case?

Donnie: Wait … idea (flat dull bell sound) … I’m thinking at my next ego rally all 45,000 people that show up get a muffin … maybe dyed red, white and blue.

Ben: Is that safe sir? Those dyes can have a history of being harmfu…

Donnie: … I’m the FDA Ben …

Ben: Right

Donnie: … all 45,000 zealots…

Ben: … zealots? …

Donnie: … supporters … all 45,000 supporters get a Red White and Blue muffin …

Ben: … in that place that only holds 6,000 peop…

Donnie: … yes, all 45,000 get a red, white and blue whitebread muffin to symbolize the movement … it’ll say “all Joe’s can be regular whitebread Americans”…

Ben: … all Joan’s too sir?

Donnie: What?

Ben: All Joan’s? It’ll symbolize they’re regular too like Joe? Men AND women?

Donnie: Who’s Joan?

Ben: … an example of the wome…

Donnie: Women too? … Whatever. So pink cinnamon raisin? Pink poppy seed? Pink pound cake? Chocolate chip?

Ben: We all love chocolate chip right?

Donnie: I’m sure YOU do and I know I do, especially in an election year. What have chocolate chips got to lose in a whitebread muffin right?

Ben: But why the need for a fruit basket sir?

Donnie: Just a gesture Ben.

Ben: But you don’t make gestures sir.

Donnie: I know, always costs too much and can eventually be traced, plus gestures should only be made to me … ring kiss, bent knee preferably. But in this case I’ll make an exception and reach ou…

Ben: … that’s big of you …

Donnie: … I know, again … I’m giving like that…

Ben: … a thank you for a promised fealty sir?

Donnie: Not trying to buy a house here Benfred. If ya haven’t noticed I already have one. It’s big, it’s white, gets wet when it rains. But if you mean realty, well, of course (duh), that’s how this shit works Benfred. You don’t shadily go behind closed doors with a sitting Supreme Court Justice and the soundtrack from “The Godfather” to work out a plan for the timing of his retirement and the choosing of his successor without the successor’s pinky oath. Damn, you can be dim sometimes. But it’s more a gesture of gratitude for hanging in there and doing his best to lie through this onslaught of questions … I mean who the hell asks questions at a confirmation hearing? Should be just “Is your name Brett?” Yes. “Did Trump nominate you?” Yes. Bada Boom … Done! That should be it! But no, fucking Dems insist on the convention of questions like any other old hearing. Where does he stand on this, where does he stands on that, will he bring back the Make America Great Again days of backroom abortions, will he piss on gay folks and workers rights, will he help anoint me King, yadda yadda yadda? It’s not that easy to constantly sidestep the truth Ben … believe me I know … so he deserves a gesture … (chokes )… a gesture from . ..me (chokes again) … this is so hard Benfred.

Ben: I know it is sir. So magnanimous.

Donnie: (possible angry glare – then lightening) Yes, thank you … I love Tom Selleck too.

Ben: The debut episode of the re-boot wasn’t bad.

Donnie: But it’s NOT Tom Selleck…

Ben: No, it’s not. You’re right. Your gesture though … it’s also just so selfless.

Donnie: I’m like that .. right? … wait … whaty’d say … selfless?

Ben: That you are sir. The people see it every day.

Donnie: I’m sure they do! (aside in a whisper) … can you explain this “selfless” to me later?

Ben: Of course sir.

Donnie: Plus, he’s had it so hard lately with this Christine Blasey Ford thing.

Ben: I know, ya gotta feel for the victim. That has to be so difficult.

Donnie: Exactly. Why does he have to answer more questions now?

Ben: He?

Donnie: Yes, HE…

Ben: … but I thought …

Donnie: … victim Ben ? … we’re talking victim here?…

Ben: … right, my bad … poor Brett …

Donnie: … and don’t they come with little gifts too? Nicely wrapped? Ivanka is really good at that sort of thing.

Ben: What sir?

Donnie: Shit Benfred?! The fucking fruit basket. Don’t they come with little gifts?

Ben: I’m not sure. I’ve never gotten a fruit basket. Death threats from poor folks who don’t have bootstraps, but never a fruit basket. I could ask my wife though.

Donnie: I don’t want to furnish his office of “I Do Nothing” Ben, I just want to maybe include a small gift or two, if that’s what they do in fruit baskets of course.

Ben: But including gifts? Doesn’t that make this more of a gift basket, not a fruit basket?

Donnie: (hard stare) It’ll have an apple, probably some grapes Ben, maybe a pineapple centerpiece, chocolate covered strawberries. It’ll be a FRUIT basket Benfred!

Ben: Now I’ll be the first to say I love chocolate covered strawberries but are you sure?

Donnie: Well….

Ben: The message they send? Could make it a little awkward.

Donnie: Ok, point. No chocolate covered strawberries.

Ben: Nice adjustment sir.

Donnie: I’m good on the fly.

Ben: That you are, I’ve seen that fly in action. As to a small gift? Monogrammed cuff links are always nice.

Donnie: Great idea … and in gold. DT.

Ben: But aren’t his initials BK?

Donnie: Not hungry right now, trying to think.

Ben: Plus wouldn’t that be a little obvious?

Donnie: You’re right. Don’t need anyone zooming in on his wrists while he dramatically taps his hands pretending to agonize over a decision in a re-enactment on Fox and Friends.

Ben: I loves me that Ainsley.

Donnie: Me too.

Ben: Maybe a gift card for a tattoo of DT instead, in some place discreet.

Donnie: Much better idea. Something only he can see in the mirror when he gets out of the shower in the morning.

Ben: How about scented soaps?

Donnie: Seriously Benfred?

Ben: Just throwing gift idea shit at the wall sir.

Donnie: Well apparently. Maybe your scented soaps can help with the cleanup of your shit wall. No, need something else … Olive Garden?

Ben: Who doesn’t love Olive Garden?

Donnie: Ok, so we got a fruit basket with an apple, some grapes, a pineapple centerpiece, whitebread muffins with maybe, chocolate chips, a DK tattoo, Olive Garden … but we need a kicker, something to make it truly unique, but something subtle. Something only he and I would understand.

Ben: Nesting dolls dressed as court justices?

Donnie: Fuck Benfred?! I said subtle … plus I already sent those to Vlad. Justice robes that are really Russian flags. He loved ’em. Says he keeps them in the residence next to a picture of me riding a Shetland Pony shirtless.

Ben: Nice.

Donnie: I know, really cute, though the whole nesting doll concept still confuses me…

Ben: … well, they’r…

Donnie: … try to explain them to me again Ben and your body won’t ever be found.

Ben: Sorry sir … wait, I got it!

Donnie: … and?!

Ben: A portrait of you for his chambers.

Donnie: Keeping with subtle … go on.

Ben: Yeah, a portrait of you, right behind his desk … you’re glaring and holding a sharpee over a blank sheet of official Supreme Court stationary.

Donnie: Oh, Benfred … you’re surprisingly an almost genius just like me!!

Ben: And you could pay for it through your foundation. Wouldn’t cost you a gold dime.

Donnie: Oh my god! That’s perfect!! Ben I could close my eyes and hug you, but the 80’s were a long time ago.

Ben: That’s Ok sir.

Donnie: Brett is going to ABSOLUTELY love this!!

Ben: I’m sure he will sir. How could he not?

Donnie: Oh, by the way, don’t mention this to Mike.

Ben: Pence sir?

Donnie: Yeah, he’ll just want to horn in on it. Seems he’s really excited about Brett. Has stock in a huge coat hanger manufacturer.

Ben: Understood.

Donnie: Plus, he gets all sweaty whenever someone mentions fruit, starts unbuttoning his shirt. It can be REALLY uncomfortable.

Ben: With ya sir.

(…”and dragged a comb across my head”)

When I first moved into my former apartment in Hyde Park, back in December of 2014, I quickly learned why my only request of the building manager that my new digs be on the top (3rd) floor was the best of all possible requests. I can’t imagine the hell I would have had to endure had my downstairs neighbor and her boyfriend been arguing and fighting and throwing shit ABOVE my head instead of below my feet. Gladly, their anger and dysfunction left soon after I moved in and was replaced, instead, with the quiet, serene, happy, loving contentment of Tara Patterson and Blake.

We bonded over cats, the mutual love of our respective fur (their Little Foot & Riley, my Bella & Shoes) but more specifically, my Shoes. When he was in his final days, and he and I would go out for our nightly walks for his last month or so, a boy and his cat in a cone plastic hat, Tara and Blake were always there to wish he and I good travels around the apartment complex. Shoes was in his glory with the attention from the two of them at the bottom of the stairs outside their door and I had new found friends who understood the immense pain but also the beautiful life that were those walks with my Big Orange.

They were also there for the slow, deliberate, determined, often bandaid inducing but loving process of bringing my beloved stray Grayson (I so miss you my friend, I can’t even say – You were So special and 2 years just wasn’t enough time) in house from the eventual cold. Tara called him Gray-Gray, a name I came to use with him quite often. Of all the people Grayson DIDN’T like at the time, including me on occasion? Tara & Blake weren’t on the list. He loved them without reservation…or bandaid.

Well, after 11 years of preparation, these two finally said “I Do” and it was a glorious day for them filled with family (Tara’s dance with Blake’s grandfather brought real tears I couldn’t hold back and brought the guests to their clapping hands), lifelong friends and a few extra new friends found at “home” in building 15 (as Tara put it in a text recently). I know I can speak for the extra friends Bobby Mulcare Brenda Mulcare and certainly myself when I say “Cheers to the continued happiness you two”. You’ve always made me smile.

I also got a chance to hang out with actual humans in the actual real world for a change and I think I cleaned up rather nicely in a borrowed shirt and tie (thank ya Sam Favata). And I didn’t spill anything on them by the way. A rare win for me.

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Alarm Haters Club)

**ALARM SOUND**

Donnie: (waking from napping to Fox and Friends clutching a Sean Hannity pillow … phone falls off the bed to the floor as he sits up) … what the Hell?! Again?!!

Ben: (rushing in) What’s the problem sir?

Donnie: What’s the problem?! I don’t know … maybe it’s these fucking alarms Benfred!

Ben: Relax sir, it’s just the new “Trump News Update” alarm system I had installed.

Donnie: My phone! Check my phone! It fell on the floor!

Ben: It’s fine sir.

Donnie: You sure? Do we need to call a phone doctor?

Ben: Phone doctor?

Donnie: Yes Benfred, phone doctor. Sheesh!! I’ve been told they have those you know?! Phone doctor trade schools even. And YOU’RE a doctor for Christ’s sake. You should know this. It’s the doctor you call if your phone might be hurt or feeling sick.

Ben: Let me check it.

Donnie: Ok, but not too close, cause then I’d have to find somebody to kill you. I know those types of people now by the way. Lot’s of national security stuff in there. Big stuff … really important big boy stuff (with emphasis and a knowing nod) INNNNNTEL Benfred … files, honestly, you’re just not intelligent enough to handle, given your innate shortcomings an all, nothing personal, and it’s all bullet pointed and graphed in color. Very complicated.

Ben: Oh, of course, nothing personal at all, I’m ONLY a neurosurgeon, but on your unsecure phone sir?

Donnie: Shut up Benfred. It’s password protected.

Ben: 1 2 3 5?

Donnie: How’d you know? But genius huh? I purposely, I think, left out the … uhhh … the … what’s the oth…

Ben: The 4?

Donnie: (shrugging off) right … is she alright?

Ben: She?

Donnie: Shut up AGAIN Ben. Just tell me … is Hope alright? … crap … wait … didn’t mean to say that … don’t even think about asking.

Ben: You call your phone Hope?

Donnie: What did I just say about not asking Ben?! Jesus! … and it’s … uhhh…”Hope” … hope for a better future, less fake news, more official Trump truth through tweets, in case you’re curious.

Ben: (wide eyed) Truth?

Donnie: (glares)

Ben: Of course, my bad … “truth” sir.

Donnie: (harder glare)

Ben: My air quote fingers were showing again weren’t they?

Donnie: Hmmmm … well, is she ok or what?

Ben: Yes “she’s” fine.

Donnie: Wheww, that’s a relief. Thank you. I’m sure taking her to a phone doctor in an emergency would have been yugely expensive.

Ben: You got that right sir. Too bad we’re not in Canada with THEIR phone doctors. Much cheaper.  It’s actually included in their citizen plan believe it or not, and with unlimited life minutes too. Have a sick phone? Boom, covered.

Donnie: I know. Gotta have a meeting about that. (Note to self: Canadian phone doctors – lie to Trudeau about why I wanna know, gloat about it later – don’t let the generics in) So what’s with these alarms Ben? They keep waking me from my beautiful Fox and Friends dreams (loves me that Ainsley), keep scaring the hell out of me when I’m tending to my flower boxes or when I’m counting the rocks in the boxes on my book shelves in the library.

Ben: You have flower boxes?

Donnie: Well, (rolling his eyes) yeaaaaah.

Ben: You mean those rickety unpainted boxes of dry dirt outside the kitchen window?

Donnie: They’re a work in progress.

Ben: Did you actually plant any seeds in them?

Donnie: Seeds?

Ben: Yes … oh … never mind. Anything you touch dies anyway.

Donnie: But these alarms? What if they go off when I’m on the golf course? Don’t want anyone thinking I might use them to kick a ball in the distraction …

Ben: … of course not.

Donnie: … ’cause I play an honest game, though with a whatever stroke handicap I decide at the end of the round.

Ben: I know you do sir. Honesty is a hallmark of yours.

Donnie: (raised eyebrow, thinking of glaring)

Ben: No, truly sir, that’s what they all say, they say “That Trump, honesty is a hallmark of his”

Donnie: My they?

Ben: Yes sir.

Donnie: Like my lots of they?

Ben: Your lots of they exactly sir.

Donnie: I love them they, especially the lots of they.

Ben: And the everyone’s too. All encompassing.

Donnie: I know huh?

Ben: Plus the them too, lots of the them … those them always say great things.

Donnie: I know, as they should … so much I’ve done …

Ben: … and the many, the many are always on your side …

Donnie: … I know, passed some of they them in the street just the other day … and they them everyone were very nice … complimented Trump on the job … no one reports this you know …

Ben: … because it’s not real and you might even say that the them, they, everyone, lot’s of and many are a majority, and all great Americans because the they, them, everyone, many support you implicitly, almost blindly. Sign things accordingly. Buy your hats. Tell you all the time.

Donnie: There was a poll you know, how they all said it.

Ben: Was there really? From who?

Donnie: A poll Benfred.

Ben: I know sir, but who conducted the pol…

Donnie: I SAID THERE WAS A POLL!

Ben: … right sir, yes, a poll. Surely proved your point of course.

Donnie: Damned fake news didn’t report on this poll.

Ben: They never do on the imaginary ones. Bastards!

Donnie: I know. Hate them. So, anyway, again, what’s with these freakin’ alarms?!!

Ben: They’re just to keep you aware of what the next news cycle might be. Like that alarm about Omarosa from a couple of weeks ago.

Donnie: A couple of weeks? Wow, that’s a long time. Did it even happen? Can I backtrack and say it didn’t?

Ben: But she has tapes sir.

Donnie: Tapes schmapes Benfred. Can I say they were doctored? Like that whole Lester Holt nonsense? Interview … caught on tape … actual words coming out of my mouth. Can I say fudged?

Ben: Best you don’t sir. Could be taken the wrong way.

Donnie: The 80’s again?

Ben: Yeah.

Donnie: Whatever. She was black though right?

Ben: Yes. Still is.

Donnie: Shit. Probably lost that one.

Ben: Probably, but you won’t miss her, plus ya still got Kanye … Tiger … that Pierson chick with the big forehead from your campaign … Zirconium & Polyester … Jim Brown …

Donnie: Forehead is kind of an idiot though.

Ben: She is, but she loves you.

Donnie: Very important.

Ben: But, again, sir, the alarms are just to keep you updated, especially when you’re nose deep in Hope.

Donnie: ?

Ben: Your phone?

Donnie: Oh, right.

Ben: Like the numerous Michael Cohen alarms.

Donnie: Those keep going off by the way. Fucking flipper … should be illegal (note to self: call my new loyalty vetted judges, especially Kavanaugh)

Ben: And there’s been quite a few Manafort alarms.

Donnie: (sigh)

Ben: And the alarm for that guy from the National Enquirer

Donnie: (double sigh)

Ben: And the alarm from Sessions taking a pot shot after YOU took another pot shot at him.

Donnie: Evil little elf. Damned ears of his. I might just close the Alice door the next time he comes knockin’ here.

Ben: And the alarm from the CPO of your “foundation”

Donnie: Did you just say that in air quotes again Benfred?

Ben: No

Donnie: Yes you did.

Ben: Damn these fingers … mind of their own.

Donnie: Yeah, you’re not good at that.

Ben: My apologies sir, it’s just like any of those times you mention Kellyanne or Laura and I suddenly end up with a carrot on my nose …

Donnie: … and that foundation does a lot of positive things ya know. Does a lot of good. Some communities praise me for the good it does.

Ben: Great good. All the dollars it hasn’t pledged. And your likeness in that one portrait it paid for is uncanny. Inspiring for the communities I’m sure.

Donnie: It really is isn’t it? Catches the orange in that halo.

Ben: If Christ had an orange halo he’d be you sir.

Donnie: Thank you Benfred, I’ll mention that at the next National Prayer Breakfast, Evangelicals eat that shit up …

Ben: … and ignore all they claim to stand for …

Donnie: … precisely. But you really have to do something about all of these al…

**ALARM** **ALARM**

Donnie: Oh … what the fuck now Benfred?

Ben: Hold on … you’re Ok sir. Seems this one was a just a reminder alarm.

Donnie: Of?!

Ben: Senator John McCain.

Donnie: What about him?

Ben: He died sir.

Donnie: Oh, he did that just to spite me ya know? Ask Kelli Ward, poor girl. Has my full support. She’s a doctor. She knows how people can plan their deaths to be spiteful.

Ben: ?

Donnie: Grabbing all the glory. Even in death. War hero yadda yadda, captured yadda yadda. Ya know, if I had been there …

Ben: … but for your dad and your feet and your cowardice …

Donnie: … exactly, if I had been there I …

**ALARM** **ALARM**

Ben: They’re kneeling again on the football field

Donnie: Motherfuckers … I’ll plantation teach ’em. Grab my prop!

Ben: Prop?

Donnie: Yeah, we’ll whip ’em with it!! It’s right over there in the corner Benfred, on a stand!!!

Ben: Ummm, grab your prop … the flag?

Donnie: Yeah, that flag thing … something about Diana Ross…

Ben: … you mean BETSY Ross?

Donnie: Yeah, but she couldn’t sing. I was there. Awful voice.

Ben: The one with the stripes and stars?

Donnie: Yeah that one … start waving it and sing along with m…

Ben: … you really don’t want to do that sir …

Donnie:  … why not? …

Ben: … the words …

Donnie:  … good point, but let’s just wave …

Ben: … just you and me ?…

Donnie: … what?

Ben: The wave? It’s a little anti climatic with just two…

Donnie: … no numbnuts … the Flag … start waving it …

Ben: … oh right sir … (waving) … this is kind of fun actually … it’ll surely make the white kids proud to be American again …

Donnie: … it’s what I do. I’m an inspiration. You know I could have been an owner right? But they were scared about how good an owner I could have been … wouldn’t let me in …

Ben: Yeah, your USFL prowess surely scared them off. The way you took a successful few years and burned it to the ground

Donnie: Hey, they won a dollar.

Ben: Hugely symbolic sir.

Donnie: And they got that because of me! Sure, it wasn’t much of a split league wide but nobody has ever given me credit for that.

Ben: It seems to be a theme.

Donnie: Theme?

Ben: The subject of talk, a piece of writing, a person’s writing, a person’s thoughts or an exhibition, a topic.

Donnie: Benfred?!

Ben: Sorry sir. I googled the definition for you … got it from Dictionary.com … thought it might help. But as I look at it now, not so muc…

Donnie: … and THOSE fucking guys …

Ben: Sir?

Donnie: … Google! … not being pro-Trump propaganda … suppressing conservative voic …

**ALARM** **ALARM**

Ben: Duck sir!!

Donnie: (ducking) … what?!

Ben: Google. They’re all knowing! … I think they’ve pinned our locatio…

(Donnie and Ben in a corner, eyes roaming, vigilant)

Donnie: … (suddenly singing the jingle) … I think I feel like McDonalds…

Ben: … me too … (bastards) … fish filet or a quarter pounder?

Donnie: … who the hell eats the fish filets Benfred? … quarter pounder for me … no, make that a double quarter pounder … extra cheese … and nuggets, gotta have nuggets … and fries … oh, and make sure the fries are on top of the bag

Ben: … of course sir.

(Ok, Cricket the Blind wrote this last part. Just proving that all cats, even those that can’t see, know how to find a keyboard for a bit of exposition …  not quite sure what she means here though sounds kinda fancy)

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiij*SUAZZZZZZZXXXXYY

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & REM Haters Club)

So the other night, when I was sleeping (kind of – sleeping, actual sleeping, is not really a skill of mine) the chorus hit me. Then last night I sat down to write out some new lyrics and thought of my old friend Rick and one of our local bands at the time, The Issue. I’m sure you all have had that band, college or otherwise, that just meant a party any night they played, at whatever dive or backyard they were gigging at. THAT band that you just HAD to see at this dive or backyard for fear of being the only person who wasn’t there come Monday morning’s stories. Ya didn’t want to be the one lonely outcast over that day’s start of coffee and still lingering headache did ya?

Rick was the editor of the WVU school newspaper, a must read for every student on campus because he made it so. I approached him at the office of the paper, not long after I arrived at WVU and also after I started working for the college radio station, an award winning place that still earns the cred, about writing for him. I had written a column for my college paper, undergraduate at Waynesburg College, just north of WVU, just south of Pittsburgh and I brought some of those columns with me. I don’t recall him being overly impressed. But he was a fan of the radio station, would eventually gain his own place there, and he gave me a chance, allowed me to continue my adventures of Earl & Jamm in a new spot, two idiot suspect genius roomates, believe it or not titled “My Name Is Earl” way pre-TV show (yes, Wayne & Garth “way”). The column ended up being pretty popular on campus for my short time there and Rick became a friend who did more for me then than you could possibly imagine. He became the friend who took that extra step when it comes to what you hope could come from a friendship and impressing him with whatever my latest column was, was huge to me. He was also a pretty humble guy, not quite reserved, he had very vocal opinions, often about movies, but still not a guy you would ever have expected to stand up in front of THAT band at the dive or a backyard and sing “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (and I feel fine)”. Nobody knew all the words, other than the arena chorus, let alone had the ability to sing them at the frenetic pace they are sung. Hell, I’d be surprised if Michael Stipe himself has ever gotten them all really right live. But Rick? He never missed a hectic word or beat.

I’ve listened to the song now, in pieces, as I tried to get the timing down, more times than I thought humanly possible, even moreso than that tune, as a kid you thought was the greatest tune in the history of tunes (until the next one) and repeated ad nauseum until mom was actually ad nauseum outside your bedroom with a gun…or knife or vodka. Whatever was on hand.

I’ve sent him this “draft” of my new imagining of the song, a current screwed up world take on it, to check my lyrical/musical math as he was the expert. I’m still hoping, almost 30 years later, that he is impressed.

I’m going to try and sing or talk this one out in my little studio soon, it just depends on whether I have the breath for it. The hubris of youth’s imagined immortality, and thus stupidity, has taken some of that breath away but I’ll try. It’ll surely be exhausting, as the song is. Apologies ahead of time.

(Note to Michael Stipe in this revisiting, all these years later? Absolute and prescient fucking brilliance)

“It’s A Trump World We’re Fucked And We Know It (And I Feel Stein)” 

Not great it starts with a Trumpquake
Snakes breed Snakes, a new filled swamp, Kanye West should be afraid.
Lies form a hurricane, listen to his bluster churn
Trump serves his own needs, asks you of your loyal deeds
Speed them up a notch, ring, blind, bow, kiss, no
Safety net you splatter with the lies of the right, downright
Dumpster fire only help that you can hire must be true, true to sire’s white combat house
Democracy is burning in a hurry but there’s truthies
Breathing out real news
Trumpy team believers baffled, truth, sends their world stop
Must send blame…anger…hate
Uh oh, info flow, population, cannot know
What Trump’ll do to save himself save himself
Trump serves his own needs listen to a country bleed
Tells you he’s been God sent a chorus of the right, leans right
You hypocritic Patriotic 5 time dodge but
We’re feelin’ pretty white

It’s a Trump world we’re fucked and we know it
It’s a Trump world we’re dumb and we show it
It’s a Trump world he won and we blew it
And I feel Stein

5 am, Fox and Friends, a Trumpy Street day begins
Lefty burns, return, always loves himself in turn
Throw him in a big parade, bombs bursting, flags wilting
Every truth a danger now, lies must escalate
Build a fire, blame the fire, ride horse, ride horse
Trample on a flag’s trust use it as a prop must
Wrap himself in fake’s lust
Call the news the bad trust
Repeated calls, chilling calls, calling of  their “lies”
He offers no solutions, only state news fake productions and I decline

It’s a Trump world we’re fucked and we know it
It’s a Trump world we’re dumb and we show it
It’s a Trump world he won and we blew it
And I feel Stein

In daylight we de-cide whether we should fight or hide
Try to turn the tide, GIVE THE TRUTH A RIDE, Martin King, George Carlin, real news,
Protest party, bubblegum, apple pie, Grandma, Ellis Island
We symbiotic, realistic slam dunk humans?
We’re right…Right?

It’s a Trump world we’re fucked and we know it
It’s a Trump world we’re dumb and we show it
It’s a Trump world he won and we blew it
And I feel Stein

……

It’s a Trump world we’re fucked and we know it
It’s a Trump world we’re dumb and we show it
It’s a Trump world he won and we blew it
And I feel Stein

It’s a Trump world we’re plucked and we’re naked
It’s a Trump world we somehow let him take it
It’s a Trump world we’re blind and we hate it
And I’m not mine

……(fading)

(Note to Universe on behalf of my Grayson: Screw You – He had his dot in this place)

Grayson: (A slow, alert, deliberate peering about the living room) …Mmmmwwrowrp … Mmmmwwrowrp … Mmmmwrowwww … Mmmmwrowwwrra …

Me: (sitting on the bed from around the corner) Who you talking to now dude?

Grayson: …Mmmmwwrow…

Me: Alright my friend

This was an oft repeated conversation (in various kind) Gray and I would have as he made his way around the apartment talking to himself, or maybe to imaginary cat friends, or maybe even to the cat ghosts only cats can see/sense as their ears fall flat, their eyes widen, their tails fatten and they take off in a mad sprint to any place other than the one they were just in, usually to a window looking like one of their cat ghosts just slapped them in the ass.

(Facebook: Tuesday morning, August 7th)

It was around one this morning when I heard what I thought was just Grayson hissing at Cricket, the blind cat I brought upstairs who just has this innate ability to end up wherever Grayson is, a comedy of sorts and moreso than Bella who knows to grab her spot on the table in the living room, above the Cricket circles fray (Cricket walks a lot of circles to find her place). Grayson has never warmed to Cricket, Bella less so, I’m sure the blind being a weirdness that they just don’t understand, but he at least minded her. Usually his hissing was followed by a running away and a being mad at me for such. No confrontation, or maybe a temporary one, quickly quelled. But this hissing wasn’t that, it was different. He was in distress and a few hours later he was gone. Just fucking gone. 

(After my 7a alarm – Gray waits patiently, as I navigate newly opened eyes, in his usual spot on the rug at the end of the bed)

Me: Good morning Gray. (to around the corner) Good morning Bella…and (getting closer as her hearing is also suspect) you too Cricket. You hungry dude?

(getting up and groggily grabbing, after a rub under Gray’s chin, the three empty bowls from last night’s dinner then walking into the kitchen and putting them into the sink to soak while, in turn, grabbing the three clean bowls from the strainer)

Me: (Gray slapping at my feet) …whoa, dude! Can ya not make my feet bleed already? I’m not even awake yet… (Gray changes to rubbing around my legs) …you’re a good boy.

This was the routine in the old apartment with Bella and Gray and now the same one in the new apartment I moved into last December with the only change being the additional “good morning” to Cricket who I brought upstairs here a few months ago. I will thank whatever providence is for landing me in this place, here in this apartment, that couldn’t possibly be any more perfect. It’s two huge, beautiful hardwood floor rooms above the garage of the house of my landlady, Celie, who has an animal shelter just down the hill. She, along with her daughter, Sam, run the shelter with a selflessness that absolutely astounds me and the house itself, here, is filled with a wonderful myriad of happy, individual fur and a lone feather, another Bella actually, just louder, more insistent. I came across Cricket when I took to feeding the cats downstairs some nights during the week shortly after I moved in. It feels good to help out and the reward of knowing every cat, every dog too, not just by name but by every singular quirk of personality is immeasurable and my general welcome home from too frustrating days lately, from all of this fur, cat and dog alike (thank you Cujo, Spuds, Blue, Eve, Pea, Chubs, Florida, Senta, Dutch, Sharky, Nick, Lumpy, Harry, Ghost, Honey Bob Tail “Boo”, Tom, Polly, Spanky, Stick, the nameless black & whites et al), is a calm and often a chaos that I cherish. But it was in the feedings that I came to know Cricket, blind Cricket in her spot in the sun room, who was usually much more interested in trying to climb my leg to my shoulder to stick her head behind my ear than she was in any night’s meal. So I eventually brought her upstairs so she could have a human. Bella and Gray have let it be known that they are not fans of this decision but, well, we’ll see.

(Facebook: Tuesday morning, August 7th…continued)

So I write here as it is all I have right now. At my blog later. Now I understand that posting here or other places is a form of comfort, It’s what I’m doing right now, it’s a place of community with friends who, hopefully, understand your pain. But I do know that there are some out there who don’t understand this pain, “he/she was just a pet so why does it hurt so much?” (Hell, I don’t even like the word pet as it implies some sort of ownership and we all know that that is just not the case – they have names and are our partners for their short time where they own US) but he was my friend, same as any other. That’s why this hurts as much as it does. He was my confidant, my foot slapper, my laughter at home, my window greeter, my welcome in the door. 

Me: (peering under) …Bella, c’mon now, you can come out from under the couch. We’re all in.

Bella: (wide eyed stare)

Me: Ok girlfriend. What about you Gray? (as I watch him nose out every corner and every window of the place, happily murmuring to himself along the way)

The move to my two big rooms above this garage had gone as expected. It was long, Bella was hiding, hating being taken from her comfort zone and Grayson was nosing, checking the lay of the land. The first thing I did, after getting somewhat settled, was to lay out some crunchy paper on an ugly green rug I had bought at Odd Lot. Apparently cheap comes in ugly green, but cheap is cheap and it was a rug, a reminder of the carpeting we left in the old apartment (the first and only in house feel he had ever known) and the crunchy paper was an equal reminder. Gray had never before dealt with hardwood floors, the new slip slide that is hardwood floors at playtime, even the occasional slip slide head first into furniture. Oh, for the the video of some of those moments. So, ugly green rugs were a must. He ignored the crunchy paper at first for his early reconnaisance but later, that first night, with the assistance of a couple of stuffed mice, Grayson was back to building himself little crunchy paper forts and rolling around on his back to fight with me. Bella eventually too, made her way out from under the couch to start her own nosing. An ever on alert slow nosing mind you, but still nosing. We were in. The best part was to watch both of them discover all of their new windows, so many more windows here with so much more to see compared to the old view. A house cat’s paradise.

(Facebook: Tuesday morning, August 7th…continued)

The Doc at the hospital said he had a heart murmur, which I didn’t know of, maybe a blood clot did what blood clots do, but my Grayson is gone. The heartbreak (I’m a bit of a mess and incredibly angry) as with all your similars, is immense. This may sound self serving, but he was MY save. And I was/am proud of it. From a little stray gray left behind cat, to my robust playfully combative Grayson, unique in so many ways. I hope he knew, at the end, what a friend he was. It was only two years Gray which, of course, is just too short and not fucking fair. But, well, we know ‘fair” isn’t really in life’s vocabulary. 

Grayson? After beating the shit out of me on a regular basis when I first came upon you and until I convinced you that I was your guy and until you eventually nudged me to sleep under the covers on my arm? That’s my thought.

A belly rub for Bella, a chin rub or a slap at my hand with Gray, a shoulder pick up and close words into whichever ear may hear something for Cricket all followed with an “I’ll see ya when I get home”. I always have to say “I’ll see ya when I get home”. It’s a part of the regular that I can’t change. You know, that superstitious nature I think we all share. I got mine playing baseball as a kid. Reading of such of my ballplayer heroes. They all had them and they all worked right? Same t-shirt underneath my jersey from last week’s win, usually unwashed (don’t tell mom). Maybe the same socks, though usually washed as they were always very well game worn and stinky (mom knew). Same underwear…(no, Mom was patient but…). We are all loathe to change our routines as, well, whatever that routine is, it’s routine right? It gets repeated, which means it works right? We came home alive again today to the comfort of our usual is courtesy of this routine right? Well it is until it isn’t.

(Facebook: Wednesday evening, August 8th)

So I must tell you all that the support, the condolences, the sharing of similar heartbreak (and preceding joy), the reminder of the good that Gray had with Bella and I over the last two years that he wouldn’t have had otherwise has been beyond overwhelming and brought, at least, a lighter tear to my eyes, a thankful tear in this moment. I spent the day yesterday, after first posting of the loss of my Grayson, just sitting in silence starting at 3am, crying, and then doing some more sitting, more crying and repeating. I read what I wrote about him a year and a half ago “Grayson” to remember the beginning (not that I really need the reminding of course but it’s nice to have words in front of me…I’m pretty fond of them). I watched Bella check his spots for her missing friend and it broke my heart again. In my sitting I angered at fate, the whatever Gods, the simple painful/beautiful circumstance that is life and wondered why the need to take him? He was only 4. So full of life and so happy with what those three entities had brought him in the first place. 

Me: (to Gray on top of the fridge) So that’s a new spot huh?

Grayson: (laying splayed out staring intently at me…a playful paw at ready)

Me: …and it’s eye to eye. Well, cross eye to eye. I like it.

If you know cats you know they like high spots, I guess, maybe, to lord over us measley merely humans. I noted in the piece I wrote of Grayson a year or so ago “Grayson” when he was still an outside stray but was slowly coming to be accustomed to me, that he had a tree stump just behind the spot I would feed him in the mornings and then the evenings. It overlooked, down a short wooded hill, a lay of lawn next to a pond that sits in the middle of the apartment complex I, he and I, lived at. It was almost as if he were surveying his holdings as he sat there. It always seemed that there was a certain introspection on his part, as he sat, of perusing what was his, that he was taking stock, daily, on his tree stump, of HIS world, the one HE owned. He would eventually take an even taller spot on a cat tower in front of the screened sliding door of my third floor apartment that had the same view. For a land baron cat? What could be grander?

(Facebook: Wednesday evening, August 8th…continued)

I’ve had quite a few cats over the years but none of them were as joyous at living, at play, or even as joyous at anger. Almost human there with Gray. What I was so proud of with him was that he took that necessary fierceness he had when he was outside alone, fending for himself, took that anger defense and let it morph into a profound cat joy once he finally found a safe place to let it change – but to still hold onto the fierce. He took it and played tag, hiding around corners to swipe at my leg and run away, waiting for me to follow, I’m sure giggling the whole time in his big ol’ cross eyed noggin’. He forcibly convinced Bella that him chasing her and that them two eventually wrestling was a good thing and just a lotta goddamn fun. I’ve never had a cat stand on his hind legs with his fronts ready to play or fight like Gray. He attacked a thrown shoelace with the zealousness of somecat who was fighting a family battle after the shoelace said something about his momma. 

Me: (laughing an all out wholehearted laugh at the sight of the first time I tossed one end of a shoelace at him) …Dude?! You’re not supposed to run AWAY from it!!

He had gotten wide eyed, reared back like a little bucking bronco cat, and took off right out the room! And he was back two seconds later, eyes still wide. He would continue to do this with any cat play. Throw a mouse at him? He ran like I tossed a grenade but he would return with a fervor that just screamed, like a kid, do it again!! …and again…please again!

(Facebook: Wednesday evening, August 8th…continued)

But Gray, and this has been gnawing at me, I have to apologize for being lax in my play duties of late, there is no excuse so I won’t offer one. There just is no excuse. The occasional thrown mouse or catnip toy, the occasional hind leg stand patty-cake, the occasional attempt to grab your belly while you fought me off wasn’t enough. All you ever asked was for play and a warm arm at night in the cold winter months. I dropped the ball on the former lately. I didn’t break out your nemesis shoelace enough, give you more chances to really teach it a lesson about keeping a civil tongue. And I even reminded myself of this just last week. I started to take you for granted. For this I am truly sorry Gray.

Me: (to Grayson under the futon in my “office” of the old apartment) …Dude, you alright?

Grayson: (just a look, but a heavy, difficult look, with labored breath…a hard look at me right in the eye)

Me: …no you’re not alright.

I had finally gotten a couple of bucks together to take him to the shelter for a blood test and a checkup, to make sure that he had no cat issues that he could pass to my Bella. When I found out he had been given a clean bill of health I danced a little happy cat guy dance. Don’t ask. He was now free to the apartment and I could finally get rid of that cage at the top of the stairs that I had had bought to get him in from the cold, to help ease him into our home pre-blood test but that I had come to loathe in his defense. After the bringing him back from the shelter though, he soon started to sound chesty, had that labored breathing. Seems he had brought something back from the shelter with him. So much for just needing a couple of dollars for just the blood test huh? And I had to take Bella in soon thereafter for the same. But he had given me that hard “I’m depending on you now” look in the eye.

(Facebook: Wednesday evening, August 8th…continued)

A good friend and neighbor who knew and loved Gray well from the apartment where he and I came about each other, Tara Patterson noted, looking at some recent pictures I just sent her of him, that when he was outside, alone and angry his eyes seemed to only display pain. But these pictures, from his life here, his eyes? Nothing but comfort. Joy.

Me: Goodnight Bella (with a belly rub cat stretch and an attempt, on my part, of a kiss on the forehead. Seven years and it’s still like a game to try and sneak one in) … goodnight Cricket (a pickup so she can put her head behind my ear) … goodnight Gray (on the fridge with a welcome kiss on HIS forehead…at least this night without a Grayson swipe) … love ya dude.

This was pretty much the nightly ritual here, (depending on the swipe or not to swipe) just like the morning daily ritual, that almost, again, was/is a superstitious need to keep things the same. So you can wake to that morning ritual right? So you can somehow keep everyone and everything on track right?  Like I said earlier though, that can change, no superstition or faith in such can stop that change. No non-swipe kisses on the forehead on top of the fridge this night will stop the universe from proving you wrong.

It just is.

But can you tell the Universe you’re good? It was two amazing years with an amazing furbound being who did more for me than anyone, let alone me at the start, could imagine. And I thought I was just trying to do that for HIM.

(Facebook: Wednesday evening, August 8th…continued)

I’m going to post again the picture of he and his friend Bella. Bella on the table, he on the floor. Though it is obviously just a perfectly timed picture of him mid-yawn I want you to zoom in on him and imagine, instead, that he has just been the told the greatest, funniest fucking joke in the history of Cat. That was my boy. 

Me: (at another time) …Oh, you think that’s funny huh? (as he runs away, surely Grayson giggling) …Great, now I need another bandaid … (to self) …He He He…

(Facebook: Wednesday evening, August 8th…finish)

Thank you all, you crazy cat people, you crazy dog people, you crazy feather people and all you crazy whatever peoples in between, you crazy fucking human humans and Cheers to the joy of our beloved fur. We are no more than how we treat them, respect them, love them, call them friend. We all know the inevitable, profound sadness but revel, instead, in all the life and sharing that leads up to it. Miss you Gray. So miss you.

Oh, by the way Universe? That whole “can you tell the Universe you’re good” thing I was talking of earlier? Fuck it. Taking Grayson wasn’t necessary.

Love ya Gray, my dearest of friends.

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Expensive Chinese Haters Club)

Donnie: Did you get the sandwiches?

Ben: Sandwiches?

Donnie: Yeah, the sandwiches I asked you to pick up for today’s meeting.

Ben: I thought you wanted Chinese?

Donnie: Why would I want Chinese? It’s so expensive now. No, I wanted sandwiches … from the Deli around the corner.

Ben: You sure sir?

Donnie: Well, yeah, why not?

Ben: But you don’t like that Deli.

Donnie: I don’t? Why?

Ben: ‘Cause you claim Ahmed shorted you on the fries on your last order.

Donnie: Well he did!

Ben: No he didn’t. They were just under the burgers.

Donnie: Hey! They should have been on top! Who doesn’t pack a to-go order with the fries on the top of the bag? That’s Un-American. It’s the first go-to for God’s sake, especially on the ride home.

Ben: I know, but you called ICE on him

Donnie: Fries are important Benfred!

Ben: Well, I’ll check and see if Ahmed has been released and…

Donnie: … probably not … no, most probably not … hey did I call ICE on that Mexican place yet?

Ben: I don’t think so sir

Donnie: Good, then make it quick, the meeting is in, like, an hour. Tacos, Fajeeders, Burritos, enchiseeyaladers, Mexican burgers…

Ben: Mexican burgers?

Donnie: Yes Benfred, burgers made by Mexicans, sheeeshh (to self: fucking dumb smart guys) … and quesaphylissdillers … with extra cheese … that peso cheese …

Ben: You mean Queso?

Donnie: Yeah, and that one too, and chips with Spicoli dip … a lot of chips with Spicoli dip.

Ben: Sessions won’t like the Spicoli dip.

Donnie: Oh, he’s just a fucking wet rag. And not the wet rag that will really get you some info, doesn’t have have the stomach for it. No, he’s just always looking to fill his private prisons … just order plenty of Spicoli dip alright Benfred?

Ben: Will do sir.

*Knock Knock

Donnie: Who’s there?

Jeff: It’s me, Sessions.

Donnie: Are you trying to use the big boy door again Jeff?

Jeff: Sorry sir. (moving to the small Alice door)

*Knock Knock

Donnie: What’s the password?

Jeff: Ummmm … “recusal”?

Donnie: Still not funny Jeff.

Jeff: “Crusades”?

Donnie: Better. (lets Sessions in through the Alice door). What the hell is that?

Jeff: It’s my sword sir.

Donnie: It’s a butter knife with a makeshift hilt.

Jeff: It’s my sword now though.

Donnie: Ok, to scale. And what are you wearing?

Jeff: You like it? It’s vintage. A genuine medieval tunic. Got it off some dark web grave robbers site.

Donnie: Nice red cross. Gaudy huge. I like it. It smells a bit funny though.

Jeff: I know. Authentic.

Donnie: It’s a little big for you too.

Jeff: Everything is sir.

Donnie: Is the shield and armor really necessary?

Jeff: Just trying to complete the look sir. This armor and my butter kni … my sword … and …

Donnie: You’re early by the way.

Jeff: Sorry, just a little excited. Plus I heard you were ordering Mexican sandwiches and other stuff made by Mexicans. First dibs on the chicken Fajeedaderrickjeeders!

Donnie: Well, go find a seat

Jeff: Gotcha (slow moving and grunting)

Donnie: You Ok?

Jeff: It’s this gear … it’s a little heavy

Ben: If you don’t mind my sayin’, you wouldn’t really have to have been wearin’ all that stuff then. You wouldn’t have been on the front lines.

Jeff: Who are you?

Ben: Ben? Ben Carson? Benfred?

Jeff: (aside to Donnie) … who’s the black guy? And why is he calling himself Benfred?

Donnie: It’s a superhero thing … relax Jeff, he’s in the cabinet with some tea cups … He’s with us.

Jeff: Watch the silverware.

Donnie: Already there.

Jeff: You sure?

Donnie: Yeah, but he completely organizes me, and he also does something about urban housing and development. Not really sure what that is but I appointed him to it and I expect it has projects that get developmented. Makes poor folk poorer to try and lift them up. Something about bootstraps.

Jeff: Urban housing? Sounds dangerous.

Donnie: It does, but he’s so good at doing nothing about it that no one notices and then we get to keep playing the “you need us” card

Jeff: Admirable

Jeff: (turns to Ben) So, why, Ben

Ben: Benfred … what? … just trying to make it stick.

Jeff: So why … Benfred … wouldn’t I have been on the front lines with my butter knife in all this cool armor and tunics and tabards emblazoned with big red crosses and eventual blood of the un-holy?

Ben: Because you would have been one of the guys directing them to do your will …

Donnie: … like me Jeff …

Ben: … and in God’s name …

Jeff: … oh I like that …

Donnie: … great huh? …

Jeff: … so my Religious Liberty Task Force would be right in line with this …

Ben: … oh Jeff, you def…

Jeff: … did you just call me Jeff? …

Ben: … sorry sir. Mr Sessions …

Jeff: … better …

Ben: … you definitely would have fit right in … Mr Sessions … kindred hearts sir …

Jeff: … always the right track if it’s God’s track!…

Ben: … with ya there Mr Sessions …

Jeff: … and no cake …

Ben: Cake? …  that’s random

Jeff: … I wouldn’t have to make a cake if I didn’t want to?

Ben: … No … definitely no cake.

Jeff: Good. They’re not allowed cake. Only God fearing Christians are allowed cake.

Ben: And only the finest of cake. Can they eat it too?

Jeff: ?… Wait … are you mocki…

Ben: … just talking about cake sir

Donnie: So, after the sandwiches get here we shou…

Ben: … it’s Mexican, not sandwiches

Donnie: Whatever Benfred. They’re all sandwiches on both sides in the end right?

Ben: Profound sir

*Knock Knock

Donnie: Who’s there?

Bolton: “Explosive Mustache”

Donnie: See Benfred? WWIII Bolton gets the passwords.

*Knock Knock

Donnie: Who’s there?

DeVoss: “Public Schools”

Donnie: HaHaHaHa! C’mon in Betsy. Now that shit’s funny.

*Knock Knock

Donnie: Who’s there?

Hucksterbee: “Pants on Fire”

Donnie: C’mon in Sarah. See Ben, we’ve got this down. Hey, where’s ….

*Knock Knock

Donnie: Aaaaannnddd who’s there? This is so much fun!

Kellyanne: “Witch”

Donnie: Ben?!!

Ben: (taking carrot off nose)

Kellyanne: “Witch”

Donnie: Ok … my apologies on your password.

Kellyane: It’s alright sir. It’s obvious.

Donnie: So … as we wait for the others I want to get this meeting started. (throwing some gravel on his podium) Here Here. This meeting of the He-Man …

*Knock Knock

Donnie: Get that will ya Benfred?

Ben: Of course … who’s there?

Laura: “Brown shirt”

Ben: C’mon in (to self: man she could subjugate me any day)

Donnie: Ok, this meeting of the He-Man Truth Haters club will now be ordered. Now, It’s come to my atten…

*Knock Knock

Donnie: Jesus Christ!

Ben: Who’s there?

Mick: “Awkward smile”

Donnie: Mulvaney! Where the hell have you been?

Mick: Sorry sir, been busy fucking consumers.

Donnie: Well, good. Now grab a seat.

Mick: (excited) Chinese today?

Donnie: No, too expensive … Mexican sandwiches.

Mick: (deflated) oh … Ok

Donnie: So this meeting of the He-Man truth haters clu…

*Knock Knock

Donnie: … son of a bitch…

Ben: I got it sir … who’s there?

Mitch (with Paul Ryan): “Turtle”

Donnie: Whoa Mitch! You can’t use ONE password for TWO people

Mitch: Sorry sir. Paul’s had a bit of problem lately. Just passwording for both of us.

Donnie: What problem?

Mitch: He’s got a mouthful of money. Can’t speak.

Donnie: Ok, I’ll allow it for now … So this meeting of the He-Man Truth Haters Club will now be orde…

*Knock Knock

Donnie: Motherfucker!

Ben: I got it sir … who’s there?

Delivery Guy: Uhhhh … I’ve got your order?

Donnie: Hey! That’s not a password!

Ben: It is now … we’re all just really hungry.

Donnie: Well … shit … whatever. Let me see that bag (grabbing bag out of his hands)

Delivery Guy: ?

Donnie: (opening bag – peering in) Fries on top. Perfect!

Ben: I specifically asked for that.

Donnie: I’m sure you did Benfred …. now we’re getting somewhere (to Delivery Guy) … you’re one of my “many people” right?…

Delivery Guy: ?

Donnie: … and you voted for me right?

Delivery Guy: That’ll be $66.67

Donnie: Holy shit! Really?!

Betsy: I got it sir … just let me grab my Cayman’s card from my boat.

Donnie: (puts arm around shoulder of Delivery Guy and walks away with him) … So tell me, when you went to the polls … you knew right …

Delivery Guy: What’s “the polls”?

Donnie: So when you went to the polls … hey, sorry, do you speak Russian?

Delivery Guy: ?

Donnie: Never mind … so when you went to the polls before my historic win … my landslide … it’s all about winning right? … when you went to the polls …(trailing off)

Delivery Guy: You’re hurting my arm…

Donnie: … Oh, stop being a wuss…

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Swede Haters Club)

(Donnie cursing – laying stuff out on the Treehouse floor)

Ben: Sir? What exactly are you doing?

Donnie: These directions are shit.

Ben: ?

Donnie: These directions … they’re shit.

Ben: You know you just need to turn the page over for the English vers…

Donnie: Look I’ve got everything laid out and organized … nuts, bolts, lug wrench, duct tape, a small paper clip, glitter, glue, pretty pictures of pretty Swedish chicks, My Little Pony game pieces…

Ben: My Little pony?

Donnie: Yeah … Spicer said I look like a unicorn, riding a unicorn over a rainbow and there’s a real player game now too and even a board game and everything so … did you know there’s a whole universe of guys who do this?

Ben: I’ve heard. Very manly. And I’m sure you’re they’re hero now. But organized? That’s not like you sir.

Donnie: Yeah, exactly, but I’m doing it anyway.

Ben: Don’t they have a simpler way? Directions are so constricting for you. Bullet points. Maybe they have bullet points on the directions that you could then delegate to someone else to figure out? Or maybe a graph, with color. You like color right sir?

Donnie: Color? Of course. Lots of color … a rainbow of color, like that Spicer unicorn thing.

Ben: A rainbow?

Donnie: Yeah, but don’t tell Pence. He’s such a tight ass. Always going on about this God guy and rainbows and shirtless dudes being a strange sensation distraction … I mean, who doesn’t like rainbows …?

Ben: … maybe a multi-colored graph to show how these directions are trending up?

Donnie: That would be nice wouldn’t it? But too easy I’m guessing. Apparently directions are specific. Who knew?

Ben: Yeah, specific isn’t really your thing.

Donnie: I know tell me about it. But I’m trying to do it anyway.

Ben: Do what?

Donnie: Build these bunk beds

Ben: Why, if you don’t mind my asking, are you trying to build bunk beds?

Donnie: Don’t mind at … unless you’re questioning me … (glare) …

Ben:

Donnie: … I’ve got a sleep over planned.

Ben: A sleepover?

Donnie: Yeah, an important sleepover. A playdate then a sleepover.

Ben: With who?

Donnie: With who? Jesus Benfred, don’t you read the news?

Ben: Awww … Benfred?

Donnie: What? Yes, alright, I called you Benfred, the whole Batman butler thing you were going on and on and on about, Benfred. But you’re Ben, he’s Alfred. And I just might be a superhero, the generals love that, gonna have a parade, so I combined the two.

Ben: I like it sir. You combined them on your own?

Donnie: Of course.

Ben: (quizzical look)

Donnie: Ok … I got some help. Kim told me how to combine the names, she’s an expert on this kind of stuff, prisons too, have I told you how good she is with prisons? … then we took a picture in the Oval Office. You know she’s a celebrity right?

Ben: I’ve heard.

Donnie: Big time celebrity. And whip smart. Says she supports me now. What could be more whip smart than that?

Ben: Nothing sir. Support = Whip smart. A given. I’m sure the folks at MENSA have her on speed dial for just that reason.

Donnie: Damn straight. And her guy, that Kanye…

Ben: Yes?

Donnie: He’s whip smart too. I took a picture with him too. Tells everybody how whip smart he is. It’s important to do that by the way. Remind people how whip smart you are … just in case they don’t notice. And he’s black.

Ben: I’ve gathered that from the pictures.

Donnie: Hey, you’re black too!

Ben: Yes, I still am sir.

Donnie: Did you vote for me because you’re black?

Ben: Uh … (big hesitation) …well of course I did. Everybody that voted for you did so because they’re black sir.

Donnie: You got that right, the blacks lov… wait, something’s off there.

Ben: Black power sir! (fist raised)

Donnie: Ummm … right! (fist raised) Black power Benfred!! And you and Kanye are BOTH black. I assume you’re related then?

Ben: ?

Donnie: Never mind, I don’t wanna pry, family business is family business. But with you two both being black and having a cool combo nickname … that’s just some sort of … ummm … a uhhhh … coming up short here Benfred.

Ben: Coincidence?

Donnie: Yes, coinc … shit … that’s a lot of syllables.

Ben: I know. It gets tough after two.

Donnie: Tell me. Anyway, he’s black, like you, and supports me like you, is whip smart and reminds people of it all the time, just like me … so they don’t forget …

Ben: You already said that.

Donnie: What?

Ben: Never mind, No, the whip smart is obvious sir.

Donnie: It is isn’t it?

Ben: You know you could get someone else to do this right?

Donnie: Do what?

Ben: Build these bunk beds.

Donnie: Oh right … yes I could, but there wouldn’t be as much … ummmmm …

Ben: Satisfaction?

Donnie: Exactly. (to self – fucking syllables)

Ben: You sure? I could run down to Home Depot in the White House pickup truck again. Look for some day guys.

Donnie: I thought about that, but it would be too easy … and the off the books would be nice … but Swedish translates so poorly in Spanish … NO! I need to show the American people that I’m a hands on kinda guy, that I’ll get in the trenches with them…

Ben: That you can build some bunk beds on your own?

Donnie: Yes! And directions be damned. I know how it’s supposed to look when it’s done, I’ve seen the catalogue. What could go wrong?

Ben: Well … (imagined images to self: beds falling on top of each other – beds exploding – beds falling from space – beds igniting California wild fires as some sort of divine retribution – beds carrying tiki torches – beds sleeping with beds)

Ben: But sir you haven’t told me who you’re building these for?

Donnie: Hell, Benfred, didn’t I just ask you if you read the news?

Ben: You did sir. But it’s kind of depressing.

Donnie: Why?

Ben: ‘Cause it’s all about you.

Donnie: Vlad! He’s coming here Benfred, and I want to make sure everything is just right. And I want to build these bunk beds myself … show him I don’t need any help.

Ben: But didn’t he help you with the elec …

Donnie: BENNNNNNNFREDDDDD?!

Ben: Sorry sir.

Donnie: You know we don’t talk about that.

Ben: My fault.

Donnie: Hey wait! I just noticed. Have you been wearing a carrot on your nose this whole time? *

Ben: Carrot?

Donnie: Yeah, on your nose. Tied with string?

Ben: On my nose? No.

Donnie: Yes you have.

Ben: (pulling the carrot nose off his face) No I haven’t.

Donnie: Whewww, thank God. I thought for sure you were a witch.

Ben: They’re sneaky sir.

Donnie: Devious.

Ben: That they are.

Donnie: So, you gonna help me or not?

Ben: ?

Donnie: Put these bunk beds together?

Ben: You know they/you canceled that meeting?

Donnie: We/I did?

Ben: Yes.

Donnie: Why the fuck would we/I do that?

Ben: It’s all about the witch hunt sir. A rigged witch hunt. They just don’t understand your relationship with Vlad.

Donnie: Are you wearing that carrot again?

Ben: No sir. (after putting it back on then pulling carrot off nose again)

Donnie: … I know, they miss the positive influence that a good relationship with Vlad could have.

Ben: For the American people right?

Donnie: The who?

Ben: The American people sir.

Donnie: Who are they?

Ben: ummmm … they’re the ones you stand up for sir?

Donnie: Do I really?

Ben: Yes. The ones that wear your $40 hats. The ones you rile up into a mob frenzy with lies and incendiary short word language. The ones who would scream “jump” at a guy on a roof and then shoot him on the way down. The ones taking Russian as a second language now.

Donnie: Well I’m better at this than I thought.

Ben: You are sir. Much better.

Donnie: But a positive relationship with Vlad would be Yuge!

Ben: It would be sir. Yuge, just like you say.

Donnie: I mean he’s such a cool dude. How could anyone not like him?

Ben: … well …

Donnie: … Ok, the foot on the neck approach could be considered a little harsh by some, poisoning folks is a little much too, and so many tall windows, slipping happens, but I like the imprisoning of journalists and opposition leaders and the guy rides horses shirtless for Christ’s sake … and looks good doing it … I really gotta start working out … and his fake elections seem so legitimate to me … so does this piece go here?

Ben: What sir?

Donnie: This piece here. Does it go with this one?

Ben: Are we back on the bunk beds sir?

Donnie: Yes Benfred! Of course we fucking are! This has to be perfect!

Ben: What do the directions say?

Donnie: Dammit Benfred! We’ve talked about this!

Ben: I know sir. Sorry. Directions – bad. And in Swedish. Does Melania know about this?

Donnie: What? Who? And why should she? She’s in the residence with some kid and I got impor…

Ben: Your son?

Donnie: … yeah right … but I got important stuff to do here. Look, if you’re not really going to help at least grab some pillows.

Ben: ?

Donnie: For the fort. Duh.

Ben: Oh, right … the fort.

Donnie: … and grab a bedsheet to cover it. You got any flashlights?

Ben: I’m sure I could find some.

Donnie: … and some Playboys. Not a real fort without some Playboys right? Hugh, that guy really knew what he was doing. Oh, and make sure you put those nesting dolls under it too.

Ben: The nesting dolls?

Donnie: Yeah, the ones with Vlad’s picture on them over there (pointing the the night stand) They were a gift from him. They confuse me but he seems to like them so make sure they’re under the bedsheet.

Ben: But they shouldn’t confuse you sir.

Donnie: Why the hell not?

Ben: They’re right up your alley sir.

Donnie: (sigh) You’re going to explain why now aren’t you? (to self trailing off – fucking smart guys).

Ben: They’re a metaphor sir. Vlad is the big doll and you and Mitch and Lindsey and the rest are the little ones inside.

Donnie: A whatafor?

Ben: A metaphor. A figure of speech…

Donnie: … a nice figure?

Ben: Of course, always. Curvy. But like I said it’s one large doll with a number of smaller dolls inside, inside, inside and inside this one big doll.

Donnie: Hey! The 80’s were a weird time Benfred and I’m a hero for surviving them … and sometimes it hurt …

Ben: Sorry sir, didn’t mean to bring up ol…

Donnie: … it’s Ok … I didn’t say it was bad …

Ben: … alright anyway … when is he coming now sir?

Donnie: I’m not sure and that makes me SOOOOOO mad! … fucking witch hunt … HEY! … are you wearing that carrot again?!

Ben: (after putting on and then taking off the carrot) No sir.

after a long pause  – working on the bunk beds

Donnie: Shit! … have I tariffed Sweden?

Ben: What sir?

Donnie: Have I tariffed Sweden? I wanna make them pay! I can’t get dick from these directions.

Ben: You know, again, if you just turn them ove…

Donnie: … fuck them.

Ben: I’ll grab the pickup truck sir.

Donnie: Good idea. And have them make me a taco salad when they’re done … I’m famished.

Ben: Will do sir.

Donnie: (trailing off) …Ok, this part goes…(bang bang) … shit! my finger … (bang bang) … son of a bitch … it’s supposed to …

* – always indebted to the Monty Python boys

A couple of posts ago, I took a short break from episodes from the Trump Treehouse for a little Georgia Sattelites inspired music interlude as, well, there’s always a little music inerlude (though not always one inspired by the Georgia Sattelites). It’s a tune about Donnie and the Supreme Court and how he gets to put his stamp on it, which is one of the saddest statements of our times that I can imagine.

This and the Treehouse posts are an attempt to keep myself sane in a #TrumpDumbDown World, especially as the IQ drops to that of broccoli – lower for Trump supporters, single cell type stuff.

So Friday night, knowing I had nowhere to be, being a single cat dude an all, I decided to stay late in my little studio, take my lyrics and try to actually sing out this little interlude (but Father…all I want to do is sing).

I’ll apologize in advance if it makes your or your neighbor’s dogs cry. I won’t apologize if makes just you or your neighbors cry as I don’t care and you’ve obviously got issues.

As to my Bella? She gives a paws up…but with an attitude.

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Tan Haters Club)

Last we saw our dynamically inept duo?  (in ep #6)

(trying to pull a body up the tree)

Paul (Ryan): Hold your end turtle!

(rope slips)

Mitch (McConnel): Stop calling me turtle!

(rope slips further)

Mitch: And why do you call me turtle anyway?

Paul: ’cause you look like one out of its’ shell.

Mitch: Oh, well that’s just mean Risky … shit!

(rope slips a bit more)

Paul: And stop calling me Risky!

Mitch: But that one’s so obvious! Check the deficit!

(rope lets go)

Paul: Son of  a bitch!!

Mitch: Shit!!

(plop sound. moans)

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Paul: Dammit!! (sheepishly) He’s not dead is he?

Mitch: I don’t know Paul. I’m not a doctor.

Paul: You’re not?

Mitch: No.

Paul: I thought all congressman were automatically doctors, at least the Republican ones.

Mitch: No Paul, we just think that way.

Paul: Gotcha. “We’re not really doctors” Noted. We are all scientists though right?

Mitch: No, not that either.

Paul: Dammit!

Guy: (from under a hood) I’m not dead.

Paul: Put your finger on his throat.

Mitch: What?

Paul: Do that finger on the throat thing, like they do on TV.

Mitch: I don’t know how that works.

Guy: I’m all good. You don’t need to.

Paul: Me neither. I just know they do it on television and then maybe shake their heads with sadness.

Mitch: Ok, and?

Paul: Just do it!!

Mitch: Fine!! (puts finger on Guy’s throat)

Guy: Hey (he he) that tickles.

Mitch: I got nothin’

Paul: What’s nothin’?

Mitch: I don’t know numbnuts. Nothing. I just felt his neck.

Guy: I’m fine by the way

Paul: Is it still warm?

Mitch: Sure Paul, his neck is still warm. But if he JUST died he’d still be warm anyway.

Paul: I just wanna feel better about this. Warm is good for right now.

Guy: I didn’t JUST die you guys.

Paul and Mitch: Shut up!!!

Guy: Sorry.

Paul: Try the throat ag …

Mitch: Enough with the throat Paul. I’ve tried. He’s still warm. That’s all I got.

Guy: You’re looking for a pulse.

Mitch: What?

Guy: You’re looking for a pulse. That’s the finger on the throat thing.

Mitch: Really?

Guy: Yeah, a pulse, feel the blood moving. Mine is moving by the way and I’ve got one.

Mitch: One what?

Guy: A pulse.

Paul: Don’t believe him turtle. That’s what they all want. For us to believe they’re alive.

Mitch: But he IS alive

Guy: He’s right, breathing here.

Paul: Bullshit. I think he’s definitely dead.

Guy: I’m not dead.

Paul: So you say. No, Mitch we need to bury him in the backyard. I’m sure Donnie has another shoebox on his bookshelf he can use (aside … after he empties out more of those fucking rocks). And even if he’s not REALLY dead I’d just be so much more comfortable with knowing he’s somebody else’s problem.

Guy: Whoa!! Who else’s problem am I if I’m buried alive in the backyard in a shoebox?

Paul: … ummmm … I don’t kn…. Gods’ …yeah, your God’s problem then. I talk to him you know.

Mitch: Yes, we know and it’s really annoying. But we brought him here for a reason.

Paul: We did?

Mitch: Yeah, the boss will want to see him.

Paul: He will?

Mitch: Jesus, you’re dim … yes, that’s why we were pulling him up the tree in the first place.

Paul: Oh, right. Hey! Not dead guy! Time to meet your maker!

Mitch: Paul (sigh) … you only say that if you’re gonna kill someone.

Paul: He’s not already dead?

Mitch: (twice sigh) No Paul, we established that, you just talked to him.

Paul: Right. Ok, again … Hey! Not dead guy, are you ready to meet…

Mitch: Paul?…

Paul: … my bad. I get stuck in a loop sometimes, like trying to justify the Tax Cut Scam. Alright then … the boss wants to see you not dead guy!

Guy: Ummmm …

Mitch: Can you at least pull this time? (grabbing the rope again)

////////////////////////

Donnie: (looking down the tree) Hey, what the fuck are you two doing?

Ben: It’s hard to find Sir.

Donnie: What’s that?

Ben: Good help.

Donnie: I know. Tell me about it. That’s why I’ll bet a good taco salad is completely out of the question right now. But they do have my back.

Ben: There is that sir, it’s just that …

Donnie: Spit it out Alfred … I mean Ben.

Ben: Awww, you’re warming to the idea aren’t you?

Donnie: ?

Ben: Never mind.

Donnie: No, they’ve got my back. Literally, check out their blood autographs right her…

Ben: … please don’t take off your shirt Sir.

Donnie: Why?

Ben: I just ate.

Donnie: Ok, point. But they’ve been right here …

Ben: … I know, the whole time, compromising whatever amounts to self respect these days, selling out Country for party and greed, enabling your delusions, turning a blind eye to you destroying our Democracy, siding with Putin, blah blah blah … (changing subject) How about we just see what this is all about?

Donnie: Right. Yes. (shouting down the tree)  Hey you two!! So what is this … sorry, getting a little lost here …

Ben: … what is this all about?

Donnie: Exactly! So what is this all about?

////////////////////////////////////////////

Paul: (looking up the tree) We’ve got one sir.

Donnie: One what?

Paul: A sympathizer sir.

Donnie: Is that bad?

Paul: Well of course sir. A sympathizer to the resistance sir? Can’t have sympathizers. Gotta keep ’em line.

Donnie: Isn’t Dan Donovan working on that?

Paul: He is. And kudos to him. He’s trying to unmask them.

Donnie: That doesn’t include pointy hoods does it?

Paul: Not sure.

Donnie: Cause I’m fan of the pointy hoods. And body armor. I like body armor. It looks so freakin’ cool! And Tiki Torches.

Paul: We’ll make sure it doesn’t. (jotting a note: pointy hoods are OK – plus body armor – Tiki Torches)

Donnie: Great.

Guy: Still here you guys

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

(after finally being pulled up the tree)

Donnie: Right in front of me boys! So what do you have to say for yourself Guy?!

Guy: (still under hood) My name’s not Guy.

Donnie: It’s not?

Guy: No.

Donnie: Really? But it says so right here.

Guy: That’s just to denote a “guy” in the script. My name is actually Steve.

Donnie: (fingers on chin) … hmmmmm.

Paul: It’s a trick sir!! He doesn’t have real name. None of them do!

Donnie: Shut up Paul.

Guy: The hood is nice.

Donnie: What?

Guy: The kidnap hood. Fur lined is a nice touch.

Donnie: What? … right. I know huh? That’s all Ivanka.

Guy: She’s got a certain flair.

Donnie: She does, she’s so much better at this than me. She told me Trump branding dead cows wouldn’t really sell. Did I listen? No. She warned against the Vodka too, though she might have been a little short sighted on that one

Guy: I know, from the mouths of babes huh?

Donnie: You fucking with me?!!

Guy: Ummmm, no sir

Donnie: Good. So why are you here?

Guy: Well … your guys kidnapped me. Can I take off the hood?

Donnie: Kidnapped? You two kidnapped him? And no … you’re our floor model, plus we’re still waiting on the Chinese trademark. And it’ll be huge in Mexico.

Paul: Well, not quite kidnapped … more … umm … acquired. We thought you might like to know what the resist….

Guy: Acquired?! You had your goons grab me outside a coffee shop at gun point!

Paul: No we didn’t!

Guy: Yes you did! And one of them was small, looked like an evil little elf wearing tiny jackboots. Big ears.

Donnie: Shit … fucking Sessions! I told him not to go out in the field. Guys, I have no room left in the backyard.

Mich: We know that si…

Donnie: No, I actually have have no room left in the backyard. There’s like 30 plus shoeboxes buried out there and now almost all of my treasured bookshelf rocks are boxless. Flynn, Manafort, Page, White Bomb Bannon, T-Rex, McMaster, some chick who made a joke about McCain which I didn’t find in poor taste at all, Prissy Price, Popadopalot or something like that, Gates, Spicer, Hagin, selfish bastard never invited me to one of his parties, Pinky Pruitt, my girl Hope (chokes up a bit “just like a daughter I never got to date”), that sleazy Italian Mooch guy who worked for me for like 5 minutes, the wife beater, a bunch of lawyers sticking me with Rudy, LewanDickski, Precious Priebus and now a dozen or so Russians including that really hot gun toting one … shit that’s lot of shoeboxes Mitch! …plus my back hurts from all the shoveling. I’ll have to start burying them on top of each other at this rate.

Mitch: You won’t have to bury this one sir. I’ve got a better idea.

Donnie: Oh, you do do you turtle?

Mitch: Oh, you too?

Donnie: It’s got a ring to it.

Mitch: (sigh) You won’t have to bury this one. I’m thinking we just drop him right in the Potomac.

Donnie: Concrete shoes?

Mitch: Sure.

Donnie: And weighted? With heavy chains? Just like in the movies?

Mitch: Of course.

Donnie: Now that’s fucking cool!! So Mob like. And I’ll have a nickname too, like Donnie “The Diaper” or Donnie “The Disaster”

Mitch: Those aren’t very flattering sir.

Donnie: No? You don’t think?

Mitch: No

Donnie: Wait! How ’bout Donnie “The Disastrous Diaper” That could be like a signature. I stuff a disastrous diaper in their mouths.

Mitch: No sir.

Donnie: Can we at least video it? On my phone?

Mitch: Probably best not to.

Donnie: Yeah, you’re right. Just do it and have lunch. Is that taco salad done?

Ben: I’ll check sir.

Guy: (under hood) And have lunch?! Hey!! I’m right here ya know!

Donnie: What? Shut up Steve! So what do you know?

Guy: .. .Uhhhhhhh …

Donnie: What?

Guy: I said … uhhhhhhh.

Donnie: Oh, take that fucking hood of him already.

Guy: (Paul takes off the hood) … whew, that’s better. The fur lined is nice but a bit warm and it get’s stuck in your throat.

Paul: I know what will get him to talk sir.

Guy: … you all got a coke or something here? A Fresca? Maybe a glass of water?

Paul: Mitch. Bring it in.

Mitch: You sure? It’s a little extreme.

Paul: Gotta do what ya gotta do right?

Mitch: (hangs head – walks into the next room) You’re right.

Guy: (as Mitch exits the room) … So no water I guess?

Paul: Oh, YOU’LL get water my friend …

(Mitch comes back rolling in a chalkboard)

Paul: Oh, you’re definitely gonna talk now!

Guy: Is that a chalkboard?

(Mitch banging erasers together) Menacing huh?

Guy: ?

Mitch: It’s menacing right?

Guy: What? You clapping erasers together?

Mitch: Just wait (banging into bigger clouds) … how about now Steeeeeevvve? Trouble breathing maybe?!

Paul: (pulls out some chalk and starts drawing)

Guy: What the hell is that?

Paul: Does this SCAAAAAARE you Steve?

Guy: Is that? … are you drawing drops of water?

Paul: Yes I am Steve … on this chalkboard. Are you ready to talk NOW?

Guy: Wait … seriously?

Paul: What?

Guy: Water drawn on a board? Really? You know that’s not how that works right?

Paul: It’s not?

Guy: No. You’re supposed to have me upside down with a towel or something over my head while you pour…

Donnie: (frantically stands up) Towelhead?! Where!!??

Mitch: Relax sir!

Donnie: Sorry. A knee-jerk thing.

Mitch: We understand.

Guy: …while you pour water on me till I can’t breathe.

Paul: Well, shit. That’s how that really works? Kind of inhumane.

Guy: I know huh?

Donnie: (Grabbing a light bulb and getting right in Steve’s face) You’re probably wondering why we grabbed you outside that coffee shop aren’t you Steve?

Guy: Well, yeah, that thought did occur to me. And what’s with the light bulb?

Donnie: For your interrogation Steve. Duh.

Guy: But it’s not lit. It’s not screwed into anything.

Donnie: Shut up Steve! We grabbed you because … ummmm. (whispering aside to Paul – “why did we grab him?”)

Paul: (still in aside, whispering “because we think he’s Antifa sir … and possibly an organizer”)

Donnie: (“really? That’s bad right? What’s Antifa?”)

Paul: (“Anti fascist left wing radicals sir”)

Donnie: (“ANTI fascist? But wait, isn’t that good? Being ANTI fascist?”)

Paul: (“Not in your case sir”)

Donnie: (“ok … I’ll take your word for it”) … we grabbed you because you’re an Antifa radical!!!

Guy: What? No! I was just grabbing a cup of coffee. And even if I was, wouldn’t being ANTI fascist be a good thing.

Donnie: Yes, of course, I just thunked that … wait … no … dammit I’m so confused.

Paul: Sir?!

Guy: I was just grabbing a cup of coffee …

Paul: “Just grabbing a cup of coffee?” You make me laugh antifa pig.

Guy: (sigh)

Paul: Weren’t you thinking of organizing a protest?!

Guy: By grabbing a cup of coffee?

Mitch: C’mon now Steve. Look at the board!! WITH WATER DROPS DRAWN ON IT!!
Tell the truth Steve!

Guy: (to self “Jesus Christ”) … Ok, whatever. I stepped out of line.

Mitch: AAAAAAANNNNND?

Guy: My wife called …

Paul: … now we’re getting somewhere …

Guy: … and I stepped out of the line to take the call. I didn’t want to be rude.

Paul: … “didn’t want to be rude” … that’s rich, like YOU’RE concerned with civility.

Mitch: … isn’t it true that you stepped out of the line to allow two immigrants ahead of you?

Guy: Two immigrants?

Mitch: Yes!

Guy: You mean Bob and Tammy?

Paul: Oh there you go, giving them names. That’s how it starts.

Mitch: Shut up Paul! Yeah sure, Bob and Tammy, whatever you say Steve…

Guy: … no, really, that was Bob and Tammy. They’re friends of mine. Live next door. My wife called and …

Mitch: … but they’re brown. Stephen Miller warns us about them all the time …

Donnie: … Browns?! Where?! Somebody get Steve King on the line. Browns!!!

Mitch: … relax sir …

Donnie: … sorry, can’t help it …

Mitch: … it’s Ok sir …

Guy: … they’re not brown. They just got back from vacation in the Keys. They have tans.

Mitch: (stops) … tans?

Guy: … yeah, tans.

Paul: … uhhh, just tans?

Guy: … yeah, that’s it … tans

Paul: … well I uh … just tans …really? … they still shouldn’t have names though …

Mitch: Cut him loose Paul.

Paul: Why? Cutting him loose is a mistake!! There’s more here I know it.

Mitch: Shut up Paul.

(on the phone)

Steve King: Hello? Iowa White National Hotline. If you ain’t white you ain’t right. He He. That shit just makes me laugh … who’s this?

Donnie: KING!!! WE GOT BROWNS!!

Mitch: Sir, please calm down.

Guy: Can I get a soda? That Fresca?

Paul: Shut up Steve!! This isn’t your mom’s kidnapping!

Guy: Sorry.

Steve King: Is that you Mr President?

Donnie: YEAH! BROWNS KINGY!!

Steve King: ALERT!!! MOBILIZE!!! PREZ SAYS WE GOT BROWNS!!

Donnie: Mitch, call Miller – I need an incendiary racist white nationally sounding speech! We’re going to IOWA!!