The TRUMPSTER had sent that double-dealing little snit Rubianity, south to grease the wheels, since he's no longer holding the Senate together with both hands. Thats Cruz's gig, president of the Senate. He's now beloved by all. Everybody knew Rubio in Tallahassee, a deal maker's deal maker. He'd been sent ahead to soften the ground with the Mexican Ambassador. We expect him here in the Oval any minute to give his report.
MR PRESIDENT? asked a voice from outside the OVAL. Director Rubio is here.
Yes, what excellent guest do you have for me now?" "NEXT" he roars, right through Cruz and I as if we weren't standing directly in front of his desk. The Trumpster is so hard of hearing its amazing he understands anything. Rubio walks in, cellphone pressed to his ear and trailing a cloud of clerks. The Trumpster was not one for small talk, its quips or questions with him. As Rubio enters the room, the TRUMPSTER yells at him. "Marco what GREAT NEWS do you have for us, how was Tijuana? Have they ordered the bricks? I have some friends in Haifa that have a turn-key solution."
Marco swiftly eyes all in the room, genuflects to the desk and leans over to give the TRUMPSTER a hug. The TRUMPSTER pulls back and waves him off. Marco sheepishly backs off turns to his chief aide and requests a bottle of water. Cruz and I slide over toward the presidents right, share a knowing wink. We wait, while Marco empties nearly half a bottle. He bobs his head and excuses himself gasping "I'm so thirsty." Cruz winks at the president, and in a mocking pseudo Canadian voice says "stay thirsty my friend". (Grins all around)
"Marco, how was Tijuana? How goes the DEAL? You read my book, yeah?" The TRUMPSTER looks at us for confirmation. We nod, in unison, sycophancy rules here in TRUMP-TOWN. Marco, freezes like the kid with-his-hand-in-the-cookie-jar? BOOK?
"What book?" he asks his chief aide, hand poised attempting to shield anyone from hearing his question. His lieutenant leans down, to little Marco and whispers, "the Presidents book, sir "THE ART OF THE DEAL"."
"Who wrote that for you, anyway" says, wise ass Vice Cruz, always the showboat. TRUMPSTER (the President TM) ignores his comment. Marco greasy as ever replies "I've been listening to it sir, tremendous book, sir, a book for the ages, a piece of classic literature, of epic proportions right up there with Cervantes." The TRUMPSTER (the President TM) beams, and then he mouths to us Cervantes? - we give him a exaggerated THUMBS UP. He smiles, and turns back to Rubio Director of Homeland Security... "Construction started yet?" he says hopefully?
"Well, Mr. President, I haven't been to Tijuana for negotiations with the Mexican government. I had to lay some important ground work. I've spent the last week in Belaire." The TRUMPSTER (the President TM) knows his REAL ESTATE, shocked he asks "Belaire, California?" (Cruz, leans over to me, and snarks, "he was laying more than ground work in Beverly Hills".)
"Who were you meeting with in California? You were supposed to be meeting with the Mexican Government -- I told you to go down there and TELL-THEM-THEY-RE-GOING-TO-PAY ". for the wall." THE ROOM ERUPTS IN LAUGHTER
End chapter 1
Marco, stood with that bewitching "deer in the headlights look" that he's practiced in a mirror for decades, (he assumed it made him look thoughtful.) Cruz breaks in, "So where were you? Were you starlet diving the whole two weeks?"
"NO! "Marco responded, "I was meeting with people more important than some flunky from un Gobermiento de Mexicano." The TRUMPSTER's face is beet red now - "SO WHO?" he yells?
Marcos voice drops to a whisper... "I was meeting with someone who can get the JOB DONE." "WHO THEN?" The TRUMPSTER was leaning over the desk, his comb-over disheveled, hanging down almost to his jowl line. "I was meeting with", " at this point, VP Cruz, unable to hold his tongue another second, said, "I got it, you were in Hollywood, to meet with Sean Penn!" The TRUMPSTER glares at Rubio, "You wanted the help of El Chapo?" Yelled the TRUMPSTER (the President TM)!
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