The Sneezing Opossum
Hey, thanks for agreeing to play Santa Claus, Mr. Trump! We were going to get Vice President Joe Biden, but he stood there thinking about it for nine hours and then bailed. We think you’ll make an even better Santa, as you should appeal to children with your second-grade vocabulary.
Trump: I’ll be so great a Santa Claus, you won’t even believe it. Those other Santas are losers. I prefer Santas who aren’t unemployed the other 48 weeks of the year, you know? So who’s first? How about that little girl with the “Fuck Carson” hat?
Jorge Ramos: Mr. Trump, how can you justify deporting five million undocumented Americans? All they want is a dream, free healthcare, and a sanitary place to shit. I mean, have you been to Mexico? It smells like Leslie Jones’ armpit.
Trump: I didn’t call on you, sir, so please get off my lap. Also, any arousal you feel is strictly accidental, I assure you. [An angry-looking elf in a three-piece suit and clearly packing heat roughly escorts Ramos off Trump’s lap. Ramos continues to yell, even as he stops by the food court for a churro.]
Ramos: I don't think it’s a coincidence that your staff asked me three times if I validate parking!
Trump: Now, how about you, little girl? Just ignore that screaming Mexican at the food court. He’s only bitter cuz his ratings stink. Me, I get ratings. Just ask the producers of Constantine. I was supposed to play Satan, but they said I overdid it. They tanked. Anyway, what can I get you for Xmas?
Little Girl: I want green cards for my mommy and daddy or they’ll have to go back to Mexico. They say it smells like Helena Bonham Carter ate a pound of Limburger cheese and then sat in a box with nothing but her farts to keep her company.
Trump: Tell you what, little girl, I’ll do you even better. I’m going to get you the sexiest Barbie doll ever. It’ll have a slender figure, like my daughter Ivanka. It’ll have a curvaceous ass, like Ivanka. It’ll be leggy and made of plastic, like Ivanka.
Little Girl: Do you have women locked in a hidden cellar someplace? That would be less creepy than the way you talk about your own daughter.
Trump: I can tell you got blood coming out of your wherever, so I’m going to hand you to security and tell the RNC that my great negotiating skills will prevent me from ever seeing you again. How about you, little boy? What do you want for Xmas?
Little Boy: I have $76,000 in college debt. Could you give me a small $1 million loan, like the tiny loan that Donald Trump got from his father, and then had to pay it back, so that Donald would learn what the common man must go through?
Trump: No, but I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’ll get you a train set. It’ll be the biggest, most spectacular train set ever, and I’ll make your parents pay for it. Specifically, it’ll be an Amtrak and a Japanese bullet train. Next!
Jared Fogle: I want to bring happiness to children everywhere, preferably without prison time.
Trump: That sounds noble. Any organization should be proud to have you. Not sure why you sat on my lap to tell to me this, or how old you are, or why you reek of processed meat and peppermint.
Fogle: I was following that girl who was just on your lap a moment ago. Can I smell your inseam?
Trump: You weird me out, and you’re talking to a guy who wants to bang his own daughter. Next! Ho, ho, ho, little girl! What do you want for Xmas?
Kim Davis: Are you sure you’re Santa Claus? Because I once went to see the Pope, and it turned out it was just Mike Huckabee in a bathrobe. Isn’t Santa supposed to have a beard?
Trump: Yeah, I’m Santa and I’m Presbyterian! Nobody believes it, but Santa’s Presbyterian! I don’t allow just anything on my face except over-priced aftershave and strippers. And Ivanka.
Davis: Well, I want gay people to go away. Can’t you deport them or build a wall around them or something? Also, I’d like to get paid without having to do my job, kind of like that Marco Rubio fellow.
Trump: There are lots of things we’ll be looking into and that’ll be one of them. Now, how about you, little boy? What do you want for Xmas?
Jeb! Bush: My name’s JEB! I want Supergirl, cuz she’s hot. And I need another 30 points in Iowa and New Hampshire, and maybe another 40 in my home state of Florida, where I was governor for two terms, but have single-digit support.
Trump: How much longer do I have to sit here? Seven hours and 53 minutes? Too long, no one wants to sit through that. New plan: We limit this to five minutes so we can get the hell out of here.
Jason Johnson is the author of Here’s Another Damn Book That No One Will Read. Prove him wrong, folks. Prove him wrong.