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The Wizard of Mar-a-Lago

By Mark Kodama, Jim Bates and Kim Hood

The Wizard of Mar-a-Lago

Donald, a rich kid from Kansas and his friends Breitbart,and  Michael the Fixer meet at Donald’s tree house for their monthly meeting for the local chapter for the Trump Youth Club for a Greater America Club. The three boys as officers of the group sit at the table in the front of the room. The two new members Stephen Miller and Huckabee sit in the audience.

They report the evil dog catcher Bob Mueller has been rounding up all the dogs of the rich kids in Little Donald’s hometown of Amber City because of a Russian Rabies outbreak. The dog catcher has seized Manafort, Gates, Flynn and even Papadopaulus and now has a court order to take Pence.

An approaching twister breaks up the meeting and all have to head for shelter.

Donald and Pence run away from home. He encounters the enigmatic snake oil salesman and former rock star Townshend who speaks in Who lyrics and urges young Donald to return home to Auntie Em and Uncle Henry fearful that his father Fred in New York may disinherit him if he continues to misbehave.

Donald gets caught in a hurricane and is knocked cold. He dreams he is taken in his farmhouse by a twister to the Wonderful World of Trump. His house lands upon and kills the evil witch of the East Hillary and thus freeing the Mnuchins from her evil reign of terror.

The Mnuchin Mayor Farquar leads in his band of deplorables in a celebration of their new found freedom. Vladimir, the good warlock from the East, appears and bestows the dead Hillary’s red ruby sneakers upon Donald, warning him never to remove them.

They also meet the evil special sorcerer Mueller who threatens to throw Donald and Pence into the dungeon for colluding with the Russians, which is of  course a witch hunt and a hoax. He urges Donald and Pence to follow the Gold Brick Road to the City of Orange where they will find the stable genius Wizard of Mar-a-Lago who can bring Donald and Pence home.  

In their journey through the forest, they meet and are joined by the scarecrow Breitbart (who has no brain), the tin man Stephen Miller (who has no heart) and the cowardly giant rat Michael (who has no courage).

When they arrive at the City of Orange they seek audience with the good and all powerful Wizard of Mar-a-Lago who agrees to help but only if they prove worthy of his assistance.

He sends them on a quest to Washington, D.C. to steal the gavel of the Speaker of the House  Pelosi. They hitch a ride with a  farmer named Gomer who is on his own quest to break up a pedophile ring headed by the Clintons being run out of a pizza joint in Washington.

The flying monkeys of the FBI seize the giant cowardly rat Michael who betrays Donald to the special sorcerer Mueller and reveals that Donald has not been faithful to his high school sweetheart Melani.

Donald is captured by the evil special sorcerer Mueller who turns him over to Nervous Nancy and the Democrats for impeachment.

Breitbart and Stephen Miller rescue Donald from the evil clutches of Nervous Nancy and the Democrats by pouring a bucket of magic water provided by the good warlocks Vladimir and Moscow Mitch on the special sorcerer Mueller.

Donald and his friends still triumph and steal Nervous Nancy’s gavel and returns to Orange city “winning, winning, winning.”

Breitbart asks the Wizard for a brain, Stephen Miller asks the Wizard for a heart and Donald asks to be returned home. But the Wizard is non committal. Pence reveals that the Wizard is a fraud.

The Wizard confers a diploma on Breitbart but tells Miller there is nothing he can do for him. He promises to take Donald and Pence home in a hot air balloon but at the last moments leaves them.

The good Warlock Vladimir intercedes again and tells Donald he and Pence can return home and always could have. All he had to do was click the heels of his red slippers three times and repeat “There is nothing like Gold!”

When he awakes Donald finds himself in bed back home in Kansas, surrounded by his family and friends and his girl friend Melania.

His father Fred flies in from New York City to tell Donald that he is proud of him and that he did not remove him from his will.

Chapter 1.

[Mark Kodama]

            Young Donald and his teenage friends Breitbart, Michael the Fixer, Huckabee and new kid on the block Stephen Miller meet in Donald’s tree house in his backyard.  They are part of the local chapter for the Trump Youth Club for a Greater America Club.

            Donald is president, Breitbart is vice president and Michael the Fixer is secretary. Stephen Miller and Huckabee are new members. Donald, Breitbart and Michael the Fixer sit in high back leather chairs on a raised dais behind an expensive mahogany table. Donald dressed in a dark suit and red tie sits in the highest chair in the center. Breitbart wears a frumpy gray sports jacket and a stained green tie. He is studying the stock market in his Wall Street Journal. Michael the Fixer is dressed in a gray flannel suit with a conservative blue tie.

            Stephen Miller and Huckabee sit on two metal folding chairs in the audience on the royal red carpeting. Stephen Miller nervously sweats. Huckabee sneers, not intentionally but as a matter of course. A large framed photograph of President Trump hangs on the wall behind Donald and between two large American flags hanging limply on brass poles. 

            “Does everyone have an agenda?” Michael the Fixer asked. “Who here does not have an agenda?”

            Donald and Breitbart each with an agenda in hand looked at each other and shrugged. Huckabee and Stephen Miller each with their own agenda looked straight ahead, eyes transfixed on Donald.

            Donald covered the microphone and whispers to Breitbart: “Who’s the girl?”

            Breitbart whispered back: “The governor’s daughter.”

            “Okay, she stays. Did you hide the Playboy Magazines?

            Michael the Fixer sitting at Donald’s right, turns and whispers, “Already taken care of, Boss.”

            “Okay, I’m turning on the recording device,” Michael the Fixer said.

            “Do we have to record this?” Donald asked. “I hate tape recorders.”

            “Boss, we record all of our meetings,” Michael said. “It is in our bylaws.”

            “I know that,” Donald said.

            “Okay, hear ye, hear ye,” Michael announced. “ The local chapter for the Trump Youth Club for a Greater America Club is ready to begin. Roll call. Breitbart?

            “Wait a minute,” Donald said. “I’m the president. I’m first.”

            “Donald?” Michael bent forward and looked to his left.



            “Present.” Breitbart smirked.

            “Michael the Fixer,” Michael said. “I’m present.”

            “Okay, let’s begin,” Donald stood up, followed immediately by all the others. “Pledge of Allegiance!”

            The five turned to the flag on the right and recited the Pledge of the Allegiance in unison and then sat down.

            “Item Number One on the agenda,” Michael said. “Trump rally.”

            “You know Donald Trump is really leading an insurgent campaign,” Breitbart said. “A movement for the people.”

            “We can sell a lot of Make America Great Again baseball caps,” Donald said.

            “What about all those liberals and, you know, those violent ANTIFA folks?” Breitbart said.

            “Terrible people!” Donald said.

            “We’ll crack their heads,” Michael said . “They will rue the day they ever messed with us. We can do something really disgusting to them.”

            “What’s next?” Donald asked.

            ”Item Number Two,” Michael said. “The weather.”

            “The weather?” Breitbart smirked. “Who added that to the agenda?”

            Donald folded his arms. “Listen, Sloppy Steve. I know all about the weather. I know more about the weather than most people. I know more about the weather than most weathermen.”

            “You mean meteorologists?” 

            “Them too,” Donald said. “I know more than most about meteors too.”

             “Boss, here is the latest weather map from the national weather service,” Michael said. “Hurricane Stormy is heading right for us here in Kansas.”

            “Don’t be silly,” Donald said. “It is heading toward Iowa. Just look at the map.”

            Breitbart snickered. “Look some idiot has redrawn the path of Hurricane Stormy with a sharpie.”

            “I don’t know. I don’t know,” Donald said. Breitbart and Michael looked at each other in uncomfortable silence.

            “Moving on to Item 3 on the agenda,” Michael said. “Dogs.”

            “Dogs?” Breitbart asked.

            “Yes,” said Michael. “The evil dog catcher Bob Mueller is hunting down all the dogs of all the rich kids here in Amber Waves City because of Russian rabies.”

            “A hoax and a witch hunt,” Donald said.

            “Ah, yes,” Breitbart said “I think I saw something about that on the news.”

            “Fake news,” Donald said. “You probably saw something on CNN. I only watch Fox News.”

            Stephen Miller raised his hand

            “The evil Mueller has seized Manafort, Gates, Flynn and even Papadopaulus,” Breitbart said.

            “Papadopaulus?” Donald asked.

            “Yes, Poppodapaulus too.” Banno replied.

            “Good dog. Good dog,” Donald said.

            “And now Mueller has a court order to take Pence.” Bretibart raised his chin defiantly.

            “My Pence?” Donald said. “Terrible. This is all crooked Hillary’s fault. Somebody should lock her up. We must get them pardons.”

            “Mueller is a Vietnam War combat veteran,” Breitbart said . “Marine lieutenant. Silver Star. Purple heart.”

            “He must have been captured or something,” Donald said.  “I don’t like people who are captured.”

            Stephen Miller started to wave his hand. His face now dripping with sweat.

            Donald turns to Michael. ‘Well, you are the fixer, what are you going to do about it?”

            “Okay. I’m on it,” Michael said. “I can take care of Mueller with one hand tied behind my back. You know boss, I would take a bullet for you.”

            Donald noticed the sweating Stephen Miller. “Yes.”

            “This is all caused by the illegal immigrants coming over our Southern Border,” Stephen Miller said. “They are coming in caravans!”

            “True,” Donald said.

            Breitbart nodded his assent.

            Huckabee raised her hand. The dark-haired, slightly overweight woman reminded Donald of his rival for student body president at Andrew Jackson High School – crooked Hillary.  

            “Be nice,” Bannon whispered. “Governor’s daughter.”

            “Yes,” Donald said, ever so politely.

            “Look out the window! A twister is heading our way.”

            “Don’t worry,” Donald said. “This is the greatest, strongest, bestest tree house ever built. It can withstand anything even a nuclear attack. Built by local union workers.”

            “Donald, we never paid them,” Michael the Fixer said. “Remember your dad filed for bankruptcy.”

            “Let’s get out of here,” Breitbart yelled.

            The five scrambled down the tree house ladder and ran for shelter.


            Uncle Henry, Auntie Em and Young Donald munched on their cheese burgers, and fries and drank their diet cokes in their basement cyclone shelter. Donald fed the last of his cheese burger to his small black terrier Pence. The three listened to the radio which predicted more twisters from the extreme weather caused by global warning.

            “As if the China trade war wasn’t enough,” Uncle Henry said to Auntie Em. 

            “Em what are we going to do about the warrant the dog catcher Mueller issued to seize poor Pence.”

            “We must comply.”Auntie Em said. “I see other way.”

            Uncle Henry ran his hands through his prematurely gray head. “He’ll put Pence to sleep.”

            “If I weren’t a Christian woman, I’d really tell Mueller what I thought of him.”

            Donald listened silently and pulled Pence into his lap. That night young Donald slipped away with Pence while Auntie Em and Uncle Henry slept.

            Young Donald knew there was a better place for he and Pence . . .  somewhere . . . somewhere over the rainbow.


            Donald and Pence came upon the wagon of the traveling snake oil salesman Professor Townshend. The aging rock star was playing his guitar and roasting weenies on an open fire. He looked up. “Who are you? Who? Who?”

            “I’m Donald and this is my dog Pence.”

            “What are you doing here? No, don’t tell me. Let me guess: You are in disguise. You are visiting friends. You are running for student body president at the local high school.”


            “Now why are you here? Let me guess. You want to see the world. No one appreciates and understands you. You are part of your own generation. You hope you die before you get old.”

            ”Yes. How did you know?”

              “I asked Bobby Dylan. I asked the Beatles. I asked Timothy Leary. He couldn’t tell me either. I’m a seeker. And I’ve been searching low and high. I won’t be able to get what I’m after til’ the day I die.”

            “That’s impressive.”

            “It’s what I do for a living.”

            “It is hard to believe in anything anymore. Democrats and Republicans – it doesn’t matter who’s in charge. We even had a Black Muslim not born in this county elected president. It is all just one big swamp. We need to drain the swamp.”

            “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.”

            “Can Pence and I join you?”

            “Possibly. We come together and join the band. But first we must look into my magic crystal.”

            Donald and Townshend entered into the back of Townshend’s wagon.

            “Have a seat young man,” Professor Townshend said. “This is my magic bus.”

            Donald looked disdainfully around. This is not even as good as my tree house.

            Professor Townshend looked into his crystal ball. “I see a farm house with a white picket fence and horse manure.”

            “That’s my farm!”

            “It’s off the state highway by a McDonald’s and the golf course.

            “Yes, that’s it!”

            “I see a man in a tall office building counting money collected from rent.”

            “Yes, that’s my dad. He lives in New York City”

            “He’s thinking about disinheriting you because you are such a spoiled brat. Why do you think he sent you to your Uncle Henry and Auntie Em?”

            “Oh, no! I better get home.”

             “I thought you were going to travel with me.”

            “In this piece of crap?”

            “But you promised.”

            “We did not sign a contract.”

            With that Donald and Pence ran home.

            Professor Townshend looked up at the menacing sky and the approaching twister.

            “I hope the little guy makes it.”


            When Donald got the farmhouse, the wind began to howl. Auntie Em, Uncle Henry and the farm hands already had fled to the cyclone shelter beneath the house.

            Donald and Pence with nowhere else to go made their way to the farmhouse.  The hurricane force winds tore the front door off its hinges and carried it into the sky.

            Donald ran to his room and hugged Pence tightly. The window collapsed onto his head, knocking him cold  

Chapter 2

Jim Bates

            Donald sat on the edge of his bed watching the inside of the twister as those he knew  spun by.  Pence excitedly wagged his tail and left a puddle of pee on the floor. “Mike, Mike,” he proudly barked.  Donald disdainfully watched. I hate dogs. He picked up the dog and put it in his lap. He wondered if Pence could be trusted.

            Donald looked out the window and watched that mean dog catcher Bob Mueller spinning by. He’s probably looking for Pence. He will never beat me. I am a stable genius. He was probably captured in the war.

            Donald saw his three friends flying by outside: Breitbart was trading at the New York stock exchange; Miller was sweating; and Michael the Fixer was looking in the mirror, doing Robert DeNiro impressions, “Are you talking to me?”

            The spinning quickened, going around and around, ever faster. Donald began to feel nauseous. Then the bottom dropped out and the farmhouse fell through space. Good thing Pence is here in case I need something to cushion my fall.

            After freefalling for what seemed like forever, the farmhouse crashed hard, splintering the building and throwing Donald and Pence to the floor. Shaken, but otherwise unhurt, they waded through the wreckage and stepped outside into another world.

            Donald looked around, stunned by this brave new world. The air was crisp and clean; the colors vibrant: a cerulean stream, yellow and pink flowers, and shiny green leaves  on white and reddish brown barked trees. He walked through the small village, like a Swiss hamlet two hundred years ago, with its white painted houses and shops with thatched roofs  Perfect land for a new high-rise commercial development and asphalt parking lot.

            Donald picked up Pence, held the little terrier, and said, “Pence. I have feeling we aren’t in Kansas anymore. We must be over the rainbow.”

            Then Pence barked. A giant translucent red bubble floated toward them. When the bubble burst, a strange well built man in a hand-made Italian suit with receding blond hair began to stride towards them with a signature KGB walk, left arm swinging freely but right arm hanging by his side ready to draw a gun at a moment’s notice.

            “Now, I know we aren’t in Kansas,” Donald exclaimed.

            “Greetings, Comrade. My name is Vladimir. I need to know: are you a good warlock or a bad warlock?”

            Donald looked behind him and said “Who me? I’m not a warlock at all. I’m Donald, a rich kid and a stable genius from Kansas. I’m worth billions.”

            “Well, is that the warlock?” Vladimir said pointing to Pence who was lifting his leg, marking his territory on a tree.

            “No, that’s Pence, my dog.”

            “Mike, Mike,” Pence barked.

            “I don’t understand,” Vladimir responded. “My Mnuchins informants called me because they were being invaded from the West. A new warlock had dropped a house on Crooked Hillary, the Wicked Witch of the East. There is the house. Here you are. And that is all that’s left of Crooked Hillary. “

            A pair of legs dressed in a green pants suit and ruby red sneakers protruded from underneath the house. Donald gasped.

            “So all we want to know is if you are a good warlock or a bad warlock? Or possibly you are you working for American intelligence.”

            “Like I said before, I’m a stable genius from Kansas and no warlock at all. Warlocks are old and ugly.”

            The Mnuchins tittered with laughter.

            “Why are they laughing?

            “I am a warlock. I am Vladimir, the Good Warlock from the KGB.”

            What’s that? I have never heard of a handsome warlock before”

            “Only CIA warlocks are old and ugly.”

            “But who are the Mnuchins?”

            “They are the proletariat who live here,” Vladimir said. “You can come out now and meet the stable genius from Kansas who has saved you,” he turned and encouraged the Mnuchins to come out from hiding in the forest and their thatched houses.

            Hundreds of tiny white men, women and children, blond, brown and red-headed joyously emerged from their hiding places. From out of nowhere a group a musicians appeared and started playing music. Pence ran around excitedly, barking and playing and with little children.

            After he confirmed the witch’s death, Vladimir proclaimed:

            Let the trumpets sound.

            Let the news redound.

            The wicked witch is dead.

             The Mnunchin Mayor approached wearing with a top hat, flowing white beard, burgundy waste coat and pink shirt. He greeted Donald with an impish grin, “I am Farquar. I am leader of the Mnuchins.”

            Farquar organized a parade and declared the day a national day of celebration. Donald and Pence rode in a chauffeured driven black limousine at the head of the parade.

            Farquar introduced Donald to the village leaders – the magistrate judge, members of his cabinet, members of the city council. Tables were set up and food and drink brought forth. The music became louder and merriment ensued with everyone singing and dancing. The military launched a parade bigger than the one the French had on Bastille Day.

            Donald, Vladimir,  Farquar and the elders sat at the head table. Donald told them about how he outsmarted all his enemies while drinking from a chalice filled with grape juice. He leaned toward Farquar and whispered “Do you guys have a McDonald’s around here?”

            Suddenly, the festivities were interrupted by a cacophony of horses hooves as a black carriage pulled by a team of six dappled grey horses galloped through the village. The boisterous crowd fell silent. Farquar whispered to Donald, “Oh, no! It’s that special sorcerer Bob Mueller. He’s a bad man. Watch yourself!”

            The horses thundered into the center of the town square scattering the little Mnuchins. Vladimir stood tall as the carriage door opened and an intense but regal looking man stepped out wearing a bowler hat and a crisp gray suit with a maroon tie.

            With the aid of a polished, black walking stick with a silver tip, he walked forward.”Who killed Hillary?” he asked, pointing his stick at Donald. Donald took a step back. There was an unsettling presence about the man, something evil.  The little Mnuchins gasped in fear. “Was it you?” Mueller asked Donald.

            “No I didn’t kill anybody,” Donald said. “It was an accident. Don. Jr. did it!”

            “Aren’t you forgetting the ruby red sneakers?” Vladimir asked.

            “Yes, the ruby red sneakers!” Mueller said.

            As Mueller walked toward the legs protruding from beneath the house, the slippers disappeared and the legs of the dead witch shriveled and disappeared under the house.

            “The ruby red sneakers! They’re gone!
            “They are right here,” Vladimir said, pointing to Donald’s feet.

            Donald looked down at the ruby red sneakers horrified. What if Crooked Hillary had athlete’s foot?

             “And what’s he doing wearing those! “ Mueller demanded, bending down to reach for the ruby red sneakers. But when he touched them his hand recoiled in pain from an electric shock.

            “Ah, Vladimir, what have you done?” Mueller asked, shaking his numb hand. “Those are my sneakers. I was next in line after Hillary. I want them now!”

            Vladimir grinned, “Too bad, Mueller. Donald destroyed crooked Hillary and so now the sneakers are his.”

            Mueller grimaced. Vladimir was right. He slammed the shaft of the walking stick into his hand in frustration. He knew there was nothing he could do without a subpoena and court order.

            Turning from Vladimir, he pointed a finger at Donald and threatened, “I will get you yet.”

            “There is no collusion!, Donald said. “This is all a hoax. The Russians did not interfere with our elections. Why would they?”

            Vladimir interceded, “Nyet, Mueller. You are outside your jurisdiction. Be gone before someone drops a house on you too.”

            “I’ll be back,” Mueller said. “And when I come back, I’m going to indict you,” he added, sneering at Donald. “And I’m going to get those ruby red sneakers too!”

            The carriage sped off. The Mnuchins cheered.

            “I’m afraid you have made a rather bad enemy of the special sorcerer! You best leave Mar-a-Lago as soon as possible.”

            Donald replied: “I miss my Aunt Em and Uncle Henry. My friends, too. What if my dad disinherits me? How do I return to Kansas? I cannot come back the way I came.”

            “Comrade, the only person who might know the answer to that question would be the  Wizard of Mar-a-Lago.”

            “The Wizard of Mar-a-Lago?”

            “Yes,” Vladimir said. “Only he would know how to get you home.”

            “Is he a good wizard or a bad wizard?” Donald asked.

            “He is a good wizard but mysterious.”

            “How can I find this wizard?”

.           “You must follow the Gold Brick Road.”

            Vladimir the KGB man then disappeared into his large red translucent bubble and floated away.

            “My, my, but people come and go so quickly around here,” Donald remarked. He looked down to where he was standing in his red sneakers and there, stretching to the distance, was the Gold Brick Road.

            “If you think that’s quick,” Farquar said, “wait until you get to Orange City.”

            The Mnuchins sang and danced and cheered for Donald, their hero.

            He picked up Pence and called out to all of the Mnuchins, “Well, what am I waiting for? Come on, Pence. We’re off to see the Wizard!”

Chapter 3

Mark Kodama

            Donald and Pence took the Gold Brick Road through the rolling green hills and cornfields of Mar-a-Lago on their way to Orange City. “Be careful of the windmills, Pence,” Donald said. “They cause cancer!” The two weary travelers soon came to a fork – one path heading left and the other to the far right.

            “Let’s see…Follow the Gold Brick Road. Now which way should we go?”

            “Pardon me, but that is a very nice way to go,” said a scarecrow, hanging on a beam. pointing to the far right.

            “Who said that?”

            Pence began barking at the scarecrow. “Mike. Mike,” he barked.

            “Don’t be silly Pence, scarecrows don’t talk,” Donald said.

            “It is pleasant that way too,” the scarecrow said, pointing to the left.

            “Say, wasn’t he just pointing the other way?” Donald asked.

            “Of course, people do go both ways,” the scarecrow said.

            “Why, you did just say something, didn’t you?”

            The scarecrow first nodded his head yes, and then no.

            “Are you doing that on purpose or can’t you make up your mind?”

            “That’s the problem,” Breitbart said. “I’m trying to lead an insurgency of the people against the establishment, and I just can’t make up my mind where to go. The biggest existential threat to the United States is China, not Russia. The problem is that I don’t have a brain. Just straw and newspaper.”

            “Don’t have a brain? Then how can you talk?

            “I don’t know. A lot of people who don’t have a brain sure do a lot of talking.”

            “That’s so true.”

            “Try this one,” the scarecrow said. “Let them call you a racist. Let them call you Xenophobes. Let them call you nativists. Wear it as a badge of honor Because every day

we get stronger and they get weaker.”

            “I love it,” Donald said. “Well, we haven’t really properly met, have we?

            “Not yet.”

            “I’m Donald a stable genius from Kansas. I’m worth billions. This is my dog Pence.

            “Mike, mike,” Pence barked.

            “I’m Breitbart the Scarecrow.”

            “How do you do?”

            “I’m not well at all being stuck up here with a pole up my back.”

            “I’ll help you down.”

            “Bend the nail down and it will release me.” Donald did as directed and the Scarecrow said, “My, it’s good to be free. But I’m such a failure.”

            “Why is that?”

            “I run an ultra-right news organization with little influence.”

            “What would you do if you had a brain?”

            “I would shake up the establishment. Put America first. End the political correctness propagated by progressive leftist elites and opposition party news media groups.”

            I could think in mathamatica

            And create Cambridge Analytica

            My conscience free of pain.

            I could lead a revolution

            White Nationalism is the solution.

            If I only had a brain.

            “That was wonderful!” Donald said. “I could use someone who can help me with my high school political campaign when I get back to Kansas.”

            “Where is Kansas?”

            “Where I’m from,” Donald said. “I need to get back as soon as possible before my dad disinherits me. I’m going to see the Wizard of Mar-a-Lago to see if he can help me.”

            “Do you think the Wizard can help me get a brain?”

            “I don’t see why not.”

            “Can I come with you?”

            “Yes, but I must warn you the special sorcerer Bob Mueller is after me.”

            “Oh, special sorcerers don’t bother me ,” Breitbart said. “”I’m not afraid of very much, except for fire. I am made up of straw and old editions of the Financial Times newspapers.”

             “I don’t blame you.”

            “But I would face a whole box of matches if I could only get a brain.”

            “Sure. You can come along. You can help pay for expenses.”

Chapter 4

Kim Hood

            They had been walking down the road for a few hours when Donald became hungry. “There must be a McDonalds or KFC somewhere around here.”

            “What’s McDonald’s?” Breitbart the Scarecrow asked.

            “You know golden arches, cheeseburgers and fries, diet cokes. You know. Never mind.”

            “I don’t know. I don’t eat much, since I am made of straw,” The Scarecrow said. “But if you’re hungry, there are fruit trees just up there,” he pointed and twirled as his arm kept going in a circle.”

            “You should really get that looked at,” Donald said in concern as he skipped by on his way to the trees. “Image is everything. I know about these things.” His red tie rose up and down, slapping him in the face as he swung his arms and skipped along, humming. “Oh look! Peaches!”

            “Peaches. Peaches…Why does that sound so…ominous.” Breitbart tipped his head to one side, finger along his forehead in thought.

            The new friends soon came upon a tin woodsman frozen by rust. “Pel … squee … os … sqee.” Something that sounded like a metal gate in the wind came from the depths of the trees.

            “What was that?” Donald jumped to his feet, peach in his hand.  He bent over to see between the leafy branches.

            “Pel…os…squee…” The noise came again. He saw a metal pipe with a metal boot attached.

            “What’s this?” Donald dropped the half eaten peach, and thumped the pipe. A hollow, tinny bang, thumped back at him. Straightening up from his crouch he found a metal torso and two sturdy metal arms holding an ax. It looked like a metal man had rusted solid in the act of cutting down the peach trees.

            “I wonder why someone would cut down perfectly good peach trees?” Breitbart the Scarecrow asked.

            “Beware…sqee …Pel…os…si…”

            “I don’t have a clue what he’s saying,” Donald said. “Obviously made with non union labor.”

            “Maybe if we oiled his jaw,” the Scarecrow suggested, tripping over a root, coming nose first against an oil can left in the grass. “Here use this!”

            “Thank you so much,” the Tin Man said when they worked the oil into his jaw. “I’ve been out here so long. I worked up a sweat cutting down the trees and rusted solid.”

            “Why were you cutting down the peach trees?” Donald asked, biting into another peach.

            The Tin Man scowled, or at least tried to. His face was mostly forehead so it didn’t really show emotions. He just looked grumpy.

            “I need the wood to build a wall. Those Mnuchins – many rapists and murderers and some good people – are invading this country and taking manufacturing jobs away from our citizens. They’re coming up by the thousands in caravans.  We can get the Mnuchins to pay for it.”

            “That’s what I think,” Donald said, wiping peach juice on his pants. “Smart man. Smart man. Some people say that I don’t have a heart but I say we must put our country first.”

            “I  know something about not having a heart,” the Tin Man replied, flexing his stiff arms. “I don’t have one.”

            “Really? I’ve never met anyone without a heart before,” Donald said, then waved his hand. “Except for  Hillary, you know. They’re still looking for her missing emails. Do you know anything about her missing emails?”

            The Tin Man shook his head, no.

            “Well, never mind. I’m Donald, a stable genius from Kansas. I’m worth billions, And this is Breitbart the Scarecrow.”

            “How d. . .d . ..  duh . . . you do?” stuttered the Tin Man, starting to seize up again. “L . . .l . . listen.” He thumped his chest. A hollow echo, thumped back at them.

            “That’s empty all right,” Breibart the Scarecrow said. “

            “Why are you looking around and sweating so much?” Donald asked

            “I’m just a little wary of the fake news media,” the Tin Man said.

            “I didn’t catch your name,” Breitbart the Scareerow said.

            “I’m St . . . St . . . Stephen Miller the  T . . .t  . . . tin Man.”

            “I like the way you think,” Donald said. “We can use a bright young man like you to carry our bags.”

            “We’re going to see the Wizard of Mar-a-Lago,” the Scarecrow said.” I’m going to ask him for a brain. You could ask him for a heart.”

            “Do you really think he would give me one?”

            “Sure. He is the Great and Powerful Wizard, after all,” the Scarecrow flapped his arms enthusiastically.

            “A heart…Wow.” Stephen Miller the Tin Man broke out into song:

            “I could actually have feelings,

            Instead of simply dealings

            with families torn apart.

            Leave the kids with their mothers

            And sister’s with their brothers

            if I only had a heart.

            No camps for vagrant tramps that cross my precious wall,

            I could round them up for once both big and small,

            and then I’d *whack* just boot them all!

            The best way to show tough lovin’

            Is to grab them all and shove ’em

            Where no one gives a fart.

            I’d keep those immigrants together

            Send them back to their where ever

            If I only had a heart.”

            “Why do you suppose he’s stomping around like that?” Donald asked the Scarecrow.

            “I think he’s dancing,” the Scarecrow answered, watching a little trickle of sweat roll down the Tin Man’s face. “Better grab the oil can. I think he’s seizing up again.

            After they oiled him, the Tin Man exclaimed, “Can I come with you!”

            “ I am a genius,” Donald said. “And I demand absolute loyalty. When I say ‘Stab in the front, you must stab in the front. And when I say stab in the back, you must stab in the back. Can you do that?”

            “Yes, I can. Gladly.” Then Stephen Miller the Tin Man looked reverently at Donald, his eyes glassy, and proclaimed in awe, “You are a genius.”

            “That’s right. Good. You can come with us,” Donald replied. “Here, carry our bags.”

Chapter 5

Jim Bates

            They came upon a city – an urban jungle. The buildings were boarded up and abandoned. Garbage and trash littered the street, terrifying the three friends.

            As the streets and the buildings closed in on then even the Gold Brick Road seemed to shrink. Donald huddled closer to his two companions and cautiously moved ahead, “It’s dark and creepy. I wish someone would burn it down.”

            “D . . .d . .. do you think minorities live here?”  Stephen Miller the Tin Man asked.

            “I don’t know for sure,” Breitbart the Scarecrow  said, “but I’m pretty sure it’ll get darker before it gets lighter.” He was doing his best to try and sound brave.

            They came upon a giant apartment complex with a huge sign that read, “Kushner Family Properties.” A large black man wearing a white suit and white fedora hat, Lord of the Slum, and four women who called themselves The Squad stood in front a large pink limousine. “They look really scary,” the Tin Man said. “Somebody should tell them to please go home.”

            “Do you suppose we might meet any wild animals?” Donald asked Miller.

            “Um…We might.”

            “Where is Don, Jr. when you really need him?” Donald asked. 

            “What about animals that might eat scarecrows? Straw and stuff?” Breitbart looked really scared, now.

            “Some,” the Tin Man replied. “Maybe rats, but mostly pimps, drug dealer and gang members.”

            This perked up Donald’s interest. “Pimps?” he asked.

            “Drug dealers?” added Breitbart.

            “And gang members?” Miller asked.

            “Pimps? And drug dealers? And gang members? Oh, my!” Donald said.

            Donald and his companions linked arms and chanted, “Pimps, and drug dealers and gang members.” With Donald adding a hushed, “Oh, my.”

            Suddenly, a fierce squeal came at them from the apartment complex as a giant rat ferociously bounded over a dumpster, some garbage cans and a pile of trash before jumping out at them.

             “Sqeeeak. Squeeak!” the giant rat screamed. “Squeeak!”

            The three friends stopped dead in their tracks, then backed pedaled as the giant rat threatened them.

            The Tin Man raised his ax, but the giant rat ignored it and leaped quickly toward them, startling them all. The Tin Man tripped, knocking the Scarecrow over backwards.             The two of them lay helpless as the giant rat approached, hissing.

            Helpless they watched as the giant rat stood on his hind legs and lifted his front arms in a pugilist stance. Both the supine Breitbart and Miller shook like leaves in a wind storm.

            The giant rat spit out, “Mark my words, I will make sure that you and I will meet one day and I will take you for every penny you still don’t have. So I’m warning you tread very fucking lightly because what I will do to you will be pretty fucking disgusting. Do you understand me?”

            Stephen Miller tried to be brave and said, “Go away and leave us alone or Donald is going to really hurt you.”

            Pence rushed to their defense and came at the giant rat, barking aggressively.

            “I’ll get you, dog meat,” the giant rat threatened, and chased the little terrier behind an abandoned car. “What I am going to do to you will be disgusting. “

            Donald picked up Pence and the giant rat came after them both. Donald swung around and kneed the rat in groin.

            The giant rat fell to its knees in pain.

            Everyone stood by in fear, waited for the worst to happen. But, instead, surprising them all, the giant rat began to weep. “What’d you do that for,” he pouted, “I didn’t bite em’.”

            “No,” Donald said “But you were asking for it.”

            “But you didn’t have to hurt me, did ya’?” He covered his face.

            “You are weak,” Donald said. “You are nothing but a dirty rat and a coward.”

            The giant rat sniffed and grabbed its tail to wipe his nose and agreed. “That’s right. I am a coward. I haven’t any courage at all. I even scare myself.”

            “Maybe we can use this guy,” Breitbart the Scarecrow whispered in Donald’s ear.

            Donald nodded. He stood triumphantly over the giant rat. “What’s your name, rat?” he demand.

            “I…I am called Michael,” the giant rat sniveled.

            “Well, Michael, I demand absolute loyalty from all my followers. Can you pledge your loyalty to me?”

            “Yes, I will take a bullet for you,” Michael the Cowardly Rat vowed.

             Breitbart turned to Donald, “Do you think the wizard could help him too?”

             “I don’t see why not.” Donald turned to the Rat and added, “We’re on our way to see the wizard now. To get him a heart,” Donald pointed Stephen Miller the Tin Man.

             “..and him a brain,” the Tin Man pointed to Breitbart the Scarecrow.

            “I’d be honored if you let me come with you,” the Michael the Cowardly Rat said.

            “Stay loyal to me and they’ll be no problem.”

            Michael raised his right limb and said, “I promise.”

            “Good,” said Donald.

            Then the four companions linked arms and together with Pence skipped down the Gold Brick Road. They were glad to be leaving the deep dark city behind, certain that the Wizard of Mar-A-Lago would help each of them.

Chapter 6

Jim Bates

            A little while later, Donald smiled as he strode along the Gold Brick Road. His walk had turned into a more of a strut since he’d been away from home, something he’d been working on back in Kansas. Head up, chest out, chin jutting forward, he felt his own commanding presence. He was transforming into the great leader he had always envisioned himself to be.

            And he had the entourage to prove it. Breitbart the Scarecrow and Michael  the Cowardly Rat were engaged in conversations ranging from money to politics and back again in his wake. He like listening to them – for about ten seconds. Sometimes they bored him.

            Stephen Miller the Tin Man had attached his oil can around Pence’s neck on a rope collar so he could give his joints a squirt whenever they started to stiffen up, which they did often because Miller perspired heavily.

            The main thing Donald liked, though, was how the Scarecrow and Tin Man and the Cowardly Rat all looked up to him. Back home he had his tree house and three maybe four followers. Here he had not only Breitbart the Scarecrow and Miller the Tin Man and Michael the Cowardly Rat with him, but he was also revered by the little people, the Mnuchins, as a great hero.

            Donald the Great! He liked the sound of that. He liked having people think he was great and the people here in Mar-a-Lago certainly thought highly of him. He could be king if he wanted! Yeah, that’d be fabulous. King Donald! It was something to think about.

            They had just rounded a corner when Pence ran past him barking, “Mike. Mike.” The Tin Man followed close behind calling, “Pence. Here, Pence.”

            As they crested the top of a long hill Donald looked out at the scene before him. What the...? The Scarecrow hurried up beside him. “Look. It’s poppies,” he cried out, pointing, “A field of poppies.”

            Irritated, Donald barked, “Yeah, I knew that. I’m really good with plants you know.”

            Stephen Miller the Tin Man looked upon Donald with awe. “You really do know everything.”

            “I’m a stable genius, you know…” Donald was going to comment further when he gazed far beyond the field of poppies. There, standing tall on the horizon was a beautiful sight. A huge  orange tower. It was magnificent. Donald stood awestruck. He’d never seen anything like it before in his life. His first thought: That must be some wizard to live in a city with a tower like that. His second thought: I’m going to build myself a tower like that one day. His third thought: Then I’m going to build a lot more.

            He couldn’t wait to get to the Orange City, meet the wizard and figure out how to get home so he could get started – buy land and build stuff. And when the stuff is built, he’d put his  name on it. That’d be awesome.

            “Let’s go,” he said to the group, excited now to really have something to look forward to, “Let’s move it along.”

            They began to run, each of them excited to finally get to see the wizard; the Scarecrow Breitbart, finally to get a brain, the Tin Man Miller, to finally get a heart and the Cowardly Rat Michael, to finally get some courage.

            And they owed it all to Donald.

            “You’re the man,” Breitbart said at one point, as they ran through the field.

            “You’re Our Leader,” Miller said.

            “You’re a hero to all of us,” Michael added, energetically jogging past.

            Donald was so happy to be not only in charge, but to be revered by them all, that he didn’t even get mad at the Cowardly Rat for breaking protocol and running ahead of him. Or the Scarecrow or the Tin Man, too, for that matter, who had both run by and were out distancing him. It was worth it.

            As they ran, though, a strange feeling came over Donald. He thought he was hearing voices. How could that be? It was just him and Breitbart and Michael and Miller, out there in the poppies, right? making for Orange City, which was getting closer and closer with each passing step. He looked up ahead but his companions were running, racing really. It wasn’t them making the voices he was hearing.

            Just then he happened to glance to the side and what he saw astounded him. The field was not just full of poppies. It was full of poppies with faces on them! Weird. And they were human faces!! Weirder, still. And they were alive and they were talking. Talking quietly. What were they saying? Donald slowed to listen.

            “I really don’t want to vote.”

            “Yeah, me neither.”

            “I’m too busy. Too many good shows on TV.”

            “What’s the point?” another added. “I don’t like politics.”

            “It’s all the same old Washington.”

            “Yeah. The same old same old. Nothing ever changes.”

            “Just a lot of empty promise while the rich get richer.”

            “And the poor get poorer and the middle class pays for everything.”

            “Yeah, just a bunch of politicians who don’t give a damn about us little people”

            “Someone needs to drain the swamp.”

            “Yeah, drain the swamp!”

            “The news scares me.”

            “Me too. That’s why I watch the late night comedians for my news.”

            Donald kept getting sleepier and sleepier. He lay down. Up ahead so did Michael the Cowardly Rat and Pence. Breitbart and Miller called for help before they, too, toppled over and began sleeping.

            They all might have slept forever if it hadn’t been for Vladimir suddenly floating in on his red translucent bubble. He landed nearby and stepped to the ground. Then he raised his hands into the sky. Suddenly, it began to snow – asbestos snow.

            “Wake up, wake up!” he shook Donald.

            “What? What’s the matter?”

            “You were drugged. That special sorcerer Mueller sprinkled magic powder on the poppies and it made you all fall asleep. I’ll bet he was going to send his winged FBI henchmen to take you back to his castle, pry the ruby red sneakers off you and then kill you. I’m glad I got here in time.”

            “My god,” Donald said, aghast. “I was having the greatest dream. I was dreaming I was running for president and giving away MAGA hats.”

            Vladimir looked at him quizzically. Then he said, “Comrade, hurry and get up. We have no time for your capitalist bourgeoisie fantasies!”

            Donald was in a hurry to get to Orange City and didn’t need any more convincing.”Come on everybody, let’s get going! We’ve got a wizard to see.”

            Off they went and in a short time the Gold Brick Road had taken right to the entrance.

Chapter 7

Mark Kodama

            After asking directions, Donald and his friends took the ferry to the estate of Mar-a-Lago in Orange City, home of the Wizard of Mar-a-Lago . The 20-acre estate – with orange walls and red adobe tiles – was built on an island off the coast of Florida. The palatial estate consisted of 126 bedrooms, a spa, pool and tennis courts. A high orange tower stretched into the sky.

            At first the gate keeper refused their entry. But after seeing Donald’s ruby red sneakers and a hundred dollar bribe, he allowed them to pass. A huge banner featuring the visage of President Trump was draped over the wall by the front gate of that building.  Parking was free, paid for by the Saudi embassy.

            As Donald and his friends entered the glass doors of the Trump Center a wall of border patrol agents greeted them sporting mirrored sunglasses and service revolvers on their hips.  Security checked their Id’s to make sure they were not from countries south of the border

            They ascended up the escalators where a here was a brouhaha in progress.  The White House spokesperson Sarah Huckabee Sanders, dressed in black uniform and black leather boots, had CNN reporter Jim Acosta by the scruff of his neck.  A red arm band said “Trump.” 

            “I told you before; no disrespectful questions to the president. Your invitation is revoked.”

            The Mar-A-Lago movie theater featured the classic, “It’s a Wonderful Life”, starring Donald Trump. A large, gold artificial Christmas tree dominated the hall, towering above the Trump Gift Shop.  Dollar bills and photographs of the Trump family members adorned the tree.  Kanye West crooned “I’ll be Home for Christmas.”

            The gift shop displayed Trump books, Trump clothing and Trump memorabilia.  On the bookshelf of the gift shop were “The Art of the Deal” by Donald Trump, “The Greatest President in History” by Donald Trump and “Trump Was my Friend” by Sean Hannity.  David Duke’s book was there as well, “Charlottesville: the High Water Mark of the Trump Presidency,” along with Conservative Comedian Ann Coulter’s book, “Why I Think I am Funny.”

            There were life-size posters of President Trump, Trump neckties and a sled that said “Rosebud.”  There was a picture of Donald Trump stealing third base during his playing days for the Oakland A’s.  “I’m the greatest ever,” the caption read. He looked like Ricky Henderson except his face was painted white. There was a rolled up magazine that Stormy Daniels allegedly used to spank the president selling for $10,000.

            A woman wife purchased a red cap saying “Make America Great Again.”  Donald bought a pack of Trump chewing gum. Thousands of guest s waited outside the Melania Trump Opera Theater.  A large bronze bust of President Trump graced the hall.  Dozens of servers dressed in white ruffled shirts and black tuxedos carried gold plated trays of delicacies: canapés, Russian caviar and chocolate covered rum balls.

            Former administration officials sat at a large round white clothed dinner table together.  Former EPA Administrator Scott Pruitt conferred with Carl Icahn under a $40,000-dollar cone of silence. “WHAT DID YOU SAY, PRUIIT?” Icahn shouted.

            “I WAS THIS CLOSE TO HAVING SESSION’S JOB WHEN I GOT CANNED?” Pruitt shouted back, cupping his hands.

            “I STILL CAN’T HEAR YOU?”  Icahn yelled

            ‘I AGREE,” Pruitt shouted back. “IT IS A GOOD THING NO ONE CAN HEAR US.”

            Director of the National Economic Council Gary Cohn asked Rob Porter whether he still had the memo he took from the president’s desk. Transportation Secretary Elaine Chao was buying more asphalt company stocks and trying to arrange for another trip to China.

            Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh was throwing down mugs of beer. “This is all the fault of the Clintons. They are out to get me.”

            “What a moron,” former Secretary of State Rex Tillerson said of President Trump.

            “He has the understanding of a fifth or sixth grader,” said former Secretary of Defense Jim Mattis.

            “I still can’t believe I was fired,” said ex-Attorney General Jeff Sessions.

            The President of Russia Vladimir Putin gave the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia Mohammad Bin Salmon a high five and chest bump. 

            Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer were huddled in the corner conferring.  “I wonder if we could get Donald Trump to put his tongue on a freezing metal pole,” Senator Schumer said.

            Donald Trump dressed as Santa Claus sat at the head table eating McDonald’s cheese burgers and drinking diet cokes.  He was talking on his cell phone.  “Felix, did I mention the fifty-million dollar penthouse of Trump Tower of Moscow would have a golden shower in the master bathroom?”

            Dressed in a suit, red tie and white shirt with an American pin on his jacket, Donald Trump rose to the podium. “I am the greatest president ever,” he began.  His assistants wildly clapped.  “There is no collusion.  The Russian investigation is a witch hunt and hoax.  No one has been tougher on Russia than me.  There is no pee tape.  And where are Hillary’s e-mails?”

            German Chancellor Angela Merkel said “I need another rum ball.”

            A rock band called The Deplorables was singing a cover for Lynyrd Skynyrd “Sweet Home Alabama.” 

            “And Watergate does not bother me,” the singer sang.  “Does your conscience bother you?  Tell the truth.”

            In front of the stage, the Trump family scions and Jared Kushner  held wicker baskets, collecting checks.  Ivanka’s basket said “Inauguration Committee.” Jared’s said “Kushner Family Real Estate Business.” Don, Jr.’s said “Trump Organization.” Eric’s said “Trump Foundation.” Tiffany’s said “Georgetown Law School.” And Baron’s said “Boy Scouts.”

            Donald removed a crisp new one hundred dollar bill from his alligator skin wallet and threw it into Ivanka’s basket. She and Jared smiled benevolently.

            “Don’t talk to him,” Don, Jr. said.

            “He just wants something from us,” Eric added.

            “When are we going to go home?” Barron asked.

            Ivanka waved her hand. “How may I help you young man?”

            “I’m Donald, a stable genius from Kansas. I am president of the local chapter for the Trump Youth Club for a Greater America Club. I am worth billions.”

            Jared’s eyes narrowed and he scratched his hairless chin.

            Ivanka smiled brightly and stuck out her hand “I’m Ivanka, the First Daughter. Do you have a girlfriend back home?”

            “Yes. Her name is Melania.”

            “You should check out my line of cosmetics and perfume at the gift shop before you leave. ”

            “I certainly will!” Donald said.

            “As you were saying.”

            “A twister picked up my farm house in Kansas and brought me here to Mar-a-Lago.”

            “I warned Daddy about the extreme effects of global warming.”

            “I am worried about my dad disinheriting me so I must return home as soon as possible.”

            “I see,” Ivanka said sympathetically. “And you?” she said to Breitbart the Scarecrow.

            “I’m leading an insurgency, a revolution against the elites and the opposition party media. I need a brain.”

            “I will talk to Daddy about it.”

            “And you ?” she said to Stephen Miller the Tin Man

            “The illegal’s are flooding over our southern border from Mexico. It is an infestation. We need to put them behind bars and take their children away from them to discourage them from crossing into our country and taking away jobs from our citizens.”

            Ivanka excited clapped and giggled. She looked at Jared and then said to Stephen Miller, “I think Daddy could use you in his administration.”

            “And you?” she said to Michael.

            “I’m a fighter. I would take a bullet for the president. His enemies will be my enemies, They will rue the day they were born. I just need a little courage.”

            The president’s daughter frowned. Daddy once had a fixer named Cohen. He was a rat.”

            Ivanka pulled and pulled her gold-plated cell phone from her designer purse.


            “Yes, Ivanka. I’m busy now trying to make a deal.
            “This is important.”


            “Four young men are here to see you with their dog.”

            “I don’t have time to see them. I’m the President.”

            “Puh-lease, Daddy!”

            “Okay, send them to the Grand Ball Room in an hour.”


            Ivanka and secret service man dressed in suit and with white earpiece in their ears escorted Donald and his friends to the Grand Ball Room which had sixteen chandeliers and real gold on its walls. President Trump was holding a news conference.

            “North Korea best not make any more threats to the United States,” President Trump declared arms folded. “They will be met with fire and fury like the world has never seen. He has been very threatening beyond a normal statement. And they will be met with fire and fury and, frankly, power. The likes of which this world has never seen before. Thank you.”

            After the news conference and the media reporters left, Ivanka whispered into the President’s ear. President Trump then leaned forward into his microphone and said, “Please come forward. Who are you?”

            Donald and his friends walked to the table.

            Donald said, “I’m Donald, a stable genius from Kansas. I am president of the local chapter for the Trump Youth Club for a Greater America Club. I am worth billions.”

            President Trump turned to a beaming Ivanka said, “I like this kid already; something about him reminds me of me when I was his age.”

            And then the Wizard broke into song:

            My name is Donald Trump,

            I am really quite a plump,

            My enemies sneer,

            Whenever I am near.

            But we are at war, war, war.

            And I say they are

            Really a bunch of chumps.

            I listened to Norman Peale

            A man that was really real.

            He taught me of a higher power

            One available at any hour.

            One you can use without blinking

            The power of positive thinking

            And the art of the deal

            Donald and Breitbart looked at each other and smiled. Stephen Miller and Michael looked upon President Trump with glassy-eyed wonder. “Mike. Mike,” Pence barked.

            President Trump turned to a secret service agent and said “Get that dog out of here. I hate dogs. Don’t you know I hate dogs. Take him away before he takes a piss on my floor.”

            The secret service agent took the dog away, promising to return him to Donald later.

            “Well, Ivanka has told me about your requests. I decided to grant them all. You know I am president. I can do those kinds of things. You have to vote for me, though.”

            “Why thank you Mr. President!” Donald said.

            “We can help you win re-election with an insurgency campaign,” Breitbart the Scarecrow said.

            “Your enemies are now my enemies!” Michael the Rat said.

            Stephen Miller the Tin Man began to sweat. He raised his right arm into a salute.

            “Take it easy, kid,” the Wizard said. “My grants, however, are conditioned, however, on a small task I have for you. Clear the room. Will everybody please clear the room. NOW!’

            Ivanka and the secret service agents led everyone from the room and closed the door.

            The Wizard – the President – sat up in his dark suit and red tie. “You must first prove yourself worthy of my favors.”

            “Of course, Mr. President” Donald said.

            “Yes Sir!” Breitbart said.

            “No one is secretly recording this, are they?”

            Donald and Breitbart looked at each other and shrugged. “No, Mr. President!” they said in  unison.

            “N. . . N . . .No!” Stephen Miller stammered.

            “I would be quite a rat if I were to do so, sir,” said Michael the Cowardly Rat said.

            “Then do this: Go to Washington,” President Trump said. “And bring me the gavel of Nervous Nancy, the Speaker of the House!”

Chapter 8

(Mark Kodama)

            Donald , Pence, Breitbart the Scarecrow, Stephen Miller the Tin Man and Michael the Cowardly Rat chartered a bus from Florida to Washington, D.C. but the bus broke down in North Carolina.

            A car pulled up next to them and he driver got out and took a look at the engine. “I used to be a mechanic back home in Mayberry but I a’took to farmin.’ Your engine is shot. The head gasket is leakin’ and its pourin’ oil.”

            “Oh, damn. Now we’ll never get to Washington, DC in time,” Donald said.

            “Dang,” Breitbart said.

            “Did you say you were a’goin’ to Washington?” Gomer said.

            “Yes,” Donald said. Why?”

            “Well, Shazam! That’s where I’m a’goin.’ ”

            “That’s terrific,” Breitbart said. “Can we get a ride with you? We can split the gas.”

            Donald made a motion cutting his throat.

            “Why that’s mighty kind of you to offer. But you don’t have to pay a penny on account of I’m a’goin’ there anyways. And seeing how y’all are just high school kids and all, it would not be right to make you pay. And I can sure use the company.”

            “That’s the way I see it,” Donald said.

            “Well, thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m Bob Bumpkin but my friends call me Gomcr.”

            “I’m Donald, a stable genius from Kansas. We’re on a secret mission from the President of the United States.”

            “President Trump?”

            “Yes. One and the same,” Donald said. “We are good friends of his.”

            “Well, Shazam again!” Gomer said. “Secret mission form the President of the United States. Good friends, too. I can’t wait to tell my friends back home about this.”

            “Not so loud, Gomer,” Breitbart whispered. “The mission is secret.”

            “Well, shut my mouth,” Gomer shouted. “Lock my lips, throw away the key and hope to die if I ever break that promise.”

            “I’m Breitbart the Scarecrow and this is Donald’s dog Pence.”

            “Mike. Mike,” Pence barked.

            “I’m Stephen Miller the Tin Man.”

            “I’m Michael the Cowardly Rat, Donald’s fixer,” Micheal said. “So watch it! I’m very tough.”

            They all piled in the General Lee, a red souped up Ford with a confederate flag pained on top. Donald sat up front with Gomer and Pence while Breitbart, Miller and Michael squeezed in back.

            “Hey, Gomer, what brings you to our nation’s capital?” Breibart asked.

            “Well you must promise not to tell anyone, first,” Gomer said.
             “We promise,” Donald said, smiling and crossing his fingers.

            “After I was a’done for the day a’tractor’n , my wife Lou Ann and I were a’ listenin’ to the talk radio. We never listen to CNN and the fake news and all. And we heard about the Clintons were heading up a pedophile ring out of a pizza joint in our nation’s capital. I never heard what a pedophile was until Opey, you know, Sheriff Taylor’s son, told me. I says to Opey, ‘Shazam! We have to do something about it.’ He just laughed.

             “So I got my AR-15, you know the one recommended by the NRA, and headed due north to our nation’s capital. Then I saw your bus all broke on the side of the road.”

            “Crooked Hillary!” Donald said. “What happened to her 33,000 emails? Somebody should lock her up.”


            The special sorcerer Mueller saw all that had transpired in his crustal ball. He ordered his staff of attorneys to prepare a subpoena to seize Michael’s records. He cast a spell upon a hive of wasps to attack them and he sent his winged monkeys from the FBI to take Michael the Cowardly Rat in custody for questioning.

            Gomer was speeding north on the interstate when he saw a group cloud of insects heading toward them. “Fellers, roll up yer windows right quick. I will turn on the AC!”

            “I’m Chris Matthews, let’s play hardball!” yelled one wasp before splatting against the front windshield.

            “Shazam!” Gomer exclaimed. “It’s the fake news media.”

            “The opposition party,” Breitbart said.

            “The enemy of the people!” Donald said.

            “I’m Chris Cuomo, let’s get at it!” Splat.

            “Hi, I’m Joe Scarborough and this is Mika Bzesinski. And this is Morning Joe.” Splat. Splat.

            “Anderson Cooper.” Splat.

            “Nicole Wallace.” Splat.

            “Yamish Alcindor.” Splat,

            “Wolf Blitzer.” Splat.

            “Rachael Meadow, Morning Joy, Laurence O’Donnell, Ari Melber.” Splat, Splat, Splat, Splat

            “Shep Smith.” Splat.

            “Shields and Brooks.” Splat, Splat.

            “Stephen Colbert,  Seth Meyer, Jimmy Kimmel.” Splat, splat, splat.

            “Trevor Noah.” Splat.

            “Megyn Kelly.” Splat.

            “Oh, look a red one!” Donald said.


            The group stopped at a road side diner in southern Virginia to eat lunch. A blond-haired, blue-eyed waitress dressed in a blue checked dress took their order.

            “Hey, y’all,” she drawled. “How y’all doin’ today.”

            “We’re great,” Breitbart the Scarecrow said. “The GDP is up and the stock market is soaring. The Trump tax cuts have really got the economy soaring.”

            “Our President is a genius,” Stephen Miller the Tin Man said. “He should never be questioned.”

            “I’ll have a cheeseburger and diet coke,” Donald said.

            “The bran cereal, no milk,” Breitbart said.

            “I’ll have a salad with oil vinaigrette,” the Tin Man said. “Hold the salad.”

            “I’ll have a steak, bloody of course,” Michael the Cowardly Rat said. “And a beer.”

            “You’ll need an ID to get that beer, kiddo,” the waitress said.

            “What’s with you friend?” the waitress said looking at Gomer.

            “I’m just looking at the black people in this restaurant,” Gomer said. “We don’t have any coloreds in Mayberry. There is just Sheriff Taylor, Opey, Aunt Bee, Deputy Fife, Goober and Floyd the barber.”

            As they waited for their order, Donald and his friends watched the large flat screen TV that hovered above the bar. On the screen was Donald Trump at one of his campaign rallies. “And obviously and importantly, Omar has a history of launching vicious ant- Semitic screeds.” The crowd began to cant, “Send her back! Send her back! Send her back!”

            Michael the Rat excused himself to use the restroom where  Mueller’s federal monkeys seized him. Donald and his friends had to continue north to Washington without their fixer.


            Gomer dropped off Donald and his friend at the Trump Hotel in Washington, DC, formerly the Old Post Office on Pennsylvania Avenue. Donald and Breitbart rented suites there. Miller and Pence stayed at a hostel.

            Later on the news, CNN reported that Gomer had been arrested by the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Police Department at a local pizza parlor searching for the Clintons.  As he was being led away he was heard to say, “Someone has been a’ pullin’ my leg. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice shame on me!”  

Chapter 9

(Mark Kodama)

            The special sorcerer Mueller read Michael the Cowardly Rat his Miranda Rights. “You have a right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you can’t afford one, the state will provide one for you without cost.  Do you understand these rights that I have just read to you? With these rights in mind do you still wish to speak to me?”

            “Wait. Wait. Wait. Don’t I get to make a phone call?” Michael asked.

            “Yes,” the special sorcerer replied.

            “You aren’t going to record it or anything are you?”


            Michael nervously felt his shirt pockets and then his pants pockets. “Trump. Trump. Trump. Where did I put his number?” He felt a piece of paper in his pants packet. “Aha. I have it.” He fumbled for it and then dialed the number. A recorded voice of a woman came on the line: “This is the Office of the President. We are not here right now but if you leave your name and telephone number we may get back to you.”

            “Damn,” the Cowardly Rat said.

            After five minutes, the special sorcerer Mueller and his flying monkeys came into the room. “Well, were you able to make your telephone call?”

            “Yes. And I called the President of the United States.”

            “And so?”

            “Can we make a deal?”

            “Depends upon what you have to say.”

            “I didn’t do nuthin’ wrong.”


            “It was all everybody else’s fault.”

            “I see.”

            “They made me do it.”

            “Do what?”

            “Well, Donald knew about the hush money payments I made to Stormy.”


            “Do you have proof?”

            “Yes. I have the check and a recording of a conversation.”

            “Do you have it on you?”

            “Yes. It is right here in my shirt pocket.”


            “I also have a recording of the President.”


            The special sorcerer Mueller turned Michel the Cowardly Rat over to the evil Speaker of the House ,Nervous Nancy and the Democrats in Congress. Elijah Cummings, lord of rat-infested Baltimore, chaired the hearings, scrupulously covered by the fake news media.

            Michael told members of the Congressional committee that Donald knew about payments to porn start Stormy Daniels, stolen Clinton campaign emails before they were released by Wikileaks and that Donald was a con-man, a liar and a racist.

            One skeptical Republican lawmaker said “Look at the old adage our mothers used to teach us: ‘Liar, liar, pants on fire.’ No one should ever believe you.”

Chapter 10

            That night the special sorcerer Mueller dispatched his flying monkeys to the Trump Hotel to capture Donald. They took him to the special sorcerer Mueller who grilled him and then turned him over to Nervous Nancy and the Democrats.

            Nervous Nancy pounded the gavel and pronounced “The actions to date taken by the President have seriously violated the Constitution, especially when the President says ‘Article II says I can do whatever I want. The President must be held accountable; no one is above the law.

Let the impeachment inquiry begin.”

            “Did the Russians help you win the election?” Rep. Adam Schiff asked.

            “I don’t see why they would,” Donald said.

            “Did you try to obstruct the special sorcerer’s investigation?”  Rep. Jerry Nadler asked.

            “Witch hunt and a hoax?”

            “Did you incarcerate children to discourage immigration and keep them in unsanitary living conditions?” Elijah Cummings asked.

            “I love Mexicans,” Donald replied. “Have you tried my taco salad?”

            “Have you used your position as president to make money for your hotels and golf courses?” Maxine Waters asked.
            “I don’t understand the question because you are a low IQ person,” Donald said.

            “Lock him up,” Nervous Nancy said. “Draw up article so impeachment.”

            The flying monkeys bound and gagged Donald and took him to the Senate for trial.

Chapter 11

            “Hear ye, hear ye,” the Senate now has come to order,” the Honorable Michael Pence now presiding.

            “Gentlemen, we have gathered here on this most solemn of occasions,” the Vice President said.  “In the history of this great country, this is only the third time a President has ever been impeached.”

            “Who me?” asked Donald. “But I am not the President of the United States. I am Donald a stable genius from Kansas. I am a student running for student body president at Andrew Jackson High school. And this is only a dream.”

            “Silence,” Vice President Pence said. “The Presiding Officer recognizes the majority leader from the great state of Kentucky Mitch McConnell.

            “Mr. Vice President, you know how I feel about all of this,” McConnell said. “The House Democrats have been indulging their impeachment obsession for nearly three year now, a never ending impeachment parade in search of a rationale.

            “The very day President Trump was inaugurated The Washington Post ran a news story with this headline ‘The Campaign to Impeach the President has begun’. The day of his inauguration!”  

            “The presiding officer recognizes the minority leader Charles Schumer from the great state of New York.”

            “If I don’t reckon with President Trump’s persistent transgressions, the very foundation of this great republic is at risk,” Senator Schumer said.  “The President hasnkept pushing, pushing and pushing the constitutional envelope. Finally, it’s the President’s conduct that has made an impeachment inquiry unavoidable.”

            Donald sat in the dock, feeling abandoned and alone as the House Democrats presented their evidence to the senators who nodded gravely. The wasps of the media sat in the galleries, smirking and laughing at him.

            Then from the gallery, a giant red translucent ball appeared, floating toward the floor of the Senate. When it burst, the good warlock Vladimir strode across the well of the chambers, left hand swinging and right arm at his side.

            With a flick of his wrist, the good warlock brought forth foaming flood waters washing the Democratic lawmakers away while the Republican lawmakers cheered. 

            “Nervous Nancy’s spell is broken,” the head flying monkey said. “Hail to Donald.”

            “Nervous Nancy’s spell is broken,” the flying monkeys repeated. “Hail to Donald.

            “Can we have the gavel?” Donald asked.
            Yes. Please take it.

            “Oh, thank you. Now we can take it back to the Wizard and tell him the Republicans control of both Congressional houses again.”

            The Republicans lead by Rep. Jim Jordon held hands and began singing “God, bless, America.”

Chapter 12

            “Can I believe my eyes?” the Wizard of Mar-a-Lago asked. “Why have you come back?”

            “We stole the gavel of Nervous Nancy like you told us too,” Donald said. “We are winning, winning, winning. The Republicans control the house again.”

            “So now we would like you to keep your promise.”

            “Promise? I never made a promise like that. It was Chuck Schumer and the Democrats.”

            “I need to return home now,” Donald said.

            “You’ve have had time enough to think about it,” Breitbart told the Wizard.

            “You are rude and terrible people,” the Wizard said. “Come back tomorrow or I will revoke your press passes.”

            “If you were really great, you would keep your promises,” Donald said.

            Pence ran to a orange satin curtain to the left side and pulled it back. To their surprise there was the President manipulating levers and speaking into a microphone.

            “Who are you?” Donald asked.

            “I’m the great and powerful Wizard of Mar-a-Lago.”

            “You are nothing but a phony,” Breaitbart the Scarecrow said.

            “We should not question him,” said Stephen Miller the Tin Man.

            “You are nothing but a con man,” Donald sad. “Terrible. Terrible.

            ‘You are just part of the swamp,” Breitbert said.

            “How dare we challenge President Trump,” Stephen Miller said. “He is a genius.”

            The Wizard of Mar-a-Lago turned to Breitbart the Scarecrow and said “You are a smart fellow. Where I come from there are universities and people go to those universities to get an education. When they graduate from those universities they are awarded diplomas and many are no smarter than you. By the power vested in me I now confer upon you a Doctorate of Sales from Trump University!” The Wizard handed Breitbart a diploma.

            Next, the Wizard turned to Stephen Miller the Tin Man. “I’m afraid I cannot give a man a heart who does not have one already.” Stephen Miller’s chin dropped to his chest. “But don’t feel sad my friend. I can use a man like you in my administration. You can be a senior policy adviser.”

            “But what about Donald?” asked Breitbart.

            “Yeah, what about Donald?” asked Stephen Miller.

            “I’m afraid you probably can’t help me,” Donald said.

            “Cheer up, son,” the Wizard said. “I have kept a hot-air balloon for just such an occasion. I will bring you home myself.”

            “You will?” Donald asked.

            “Yes. Tomorrow at noon sharp.”


            At noon the next day, the citizens of Mar-a-Lago gathered at the town square to see the Wizard, Donald and Pence off.

            The Wizard made Breitbart the Scarecrow the new ruler of Mar-a-Lago with Stephen Miller as his chief policy adviser. But when it came time to cast off, the Wizard told Donald and Pence to go to McDonald’s to buy a week’s supply of burgers and diet cokes for their journey home.

            When Donald returned, the Wizard had already cast off and was floating away. “Sorry about that, Donald,” he said. “I did you a favor. I’m not going to Kansas at all but Russia. Good luck, my young friend. Keep up the good work and maybe you too will be President some day!”

            Just then the red translucent bubble appeared on the horizon and floated toward the square. The bubble burst and Vladimir the good warlock of the KGB appeared and strode toward them, left arm swinging free and right arm ready to draw his gun.

            “Comrade, Donald,” he said. “Why so sad? Did I not tell you I would take care of you? You have been a very useful idiot.”

            Donald’s face broke into wide grin. “Good man! Good man!”

            “You have always had the power to return home yourself,” Vladimir said. “All you had to do was to remember the wise words of your father.”

            “You mean, ‘There’s nothing like gold!’ “

            “That’s it!”

            Donald picked up Pence and turned to his friends, “Gee I’m going to miss you guys.”

            “We’re going to miss you too,” Breitbart said.

            Stephen Miller raised his right arm into a salute.

            “Are you ready, Donald?”

            “Yes, I am.”

            Vladimir pulled his pistol from the holster covered by his suit jacket. He waved it in circles behind Donald’s head. “Just close your eyes and think to yourself, ‘there is nothing like gold! There is nothing like gold! There is nothing like gold!”

            “There is nothing like Gold!” Donald said.


            “Wake up, Donald, wake up! It is Auntie Em!”

            When Donald awoke he was back at home in his farmhouse in Kansas. At his side were Uncle Henry, Breitbart, Michael the Fixer, Stephen Miller, Huckabee, Melanie and his dad who flew in from New York.

            “You are a really winner, son,” his father Fred said. “I am very proud of you. Not only have I kept you in my will, I am giving you the largest share of all.”

            “And congratulations, Donald,” Breibart said, his Financial Times tucked under his right arm. “You are now student body president of Andrew Jackson High School.”

            “Oh, my Donald,” Melanie said. “You beat that crooked Hillary.”

            “Michael the Fixer came forward and whispered in Donald’s ear. “Don’t worry, Boss. I took care of Stormy for you.”

            Donald sat up. “Michael, you rat. You’re fired!”

            Steve Miller, sweating in the background, glared at Michael and said, “Did you hear our unquestionable leader? You are fired! Hail to the chief!!”

            Huckabee twisted Michael’s right arm behind his back and hustled him out of the farmhouse.

[The End]


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