The Election gambits had all failed. 2024 GOP presidential hopefuls were already offering background briefings to reporters on their courageous objections to the President’s claim of squatter’s rights to the Oval Office. But the coup-de-grace was finally delivered by a Washington Post exclusive: the Joint Chiefs and a joyous Secret Service detail had developed a discrete extraction method, although they had not yet ruled out rubber bullets.

Trump threw the newspaper down and picked up the phone.

TRUMP: Meadows? Grab a tape measure and get your butt in here.

MARK MEADOWS, Chief of Staff (Hurrying into the Oval Office): All I could find was this ruler, sir.

TRUMP: That will do. Now get over here and measure the window behind me.

MEADOWS: Er, Mr. President, we have a whole staff of maintenance people who…

TRUMP: They’re all Angry Democrats, Meadows, every last one, even though I was the best hope for their stupid African American asses. Now start measuring!

MEADOWS (Moves behind Trump, sitting at the Resolute Desk, placing a ruler along the windowsill): This window is three feet wide, sir.

TRUMP: Now measure the side of my desk here.

MEADOWS (Measuring): Mr. President, the depth is four feet.

TRUMP: Damn! Meadows, you’re going to have to get those Angry Negroes to widen the window behind me by a foot.

MEADOWS: Sir, the windows off to your right and left are wider than the center window.

TRUMP: Then measure them too, you dolt! 

MEADOWS (After furiously wielding his ruler along the windowsills): Sir, both of those side windows are four feet wide.

TRUMP: Good! Now unlatch one of those side windows.

MEADOWS (Struggling): Sir, the windows won’t budge. They appear to be nailed shut,  probably for your safety, lest any Antifas get in.

TRUMP: Damn! Meadows, get all those lazy morons working for you to come in here tonight with saws and hammers and remove those windows.

MEADOWS: Certainly. But may I ask why, Mr. President?

TRUMP: I’m taking the Resolute Desk with me, you idiot.

MEADOWS: Of course, Mr. President. Do you want my staff to carry the desk somewhere?

TRUMP: If I did, do you think I’d tell you, Meadows? That desk will be worth millions when I auction it. Now set up that briefing I asked for. 

MEADOWS: You mean with the CIA, FBI and NSA analysts?

TRUMP: Of course! Get all of them over here tomorrow morning at dawn!

The next morning senior analysts from each of the three major intelligence agencies file into a suddenly barren Oval Office. Trump is standing where the Resolute Desk used to sit, wearing an overcoat. Behind him, the wind whips around black plastic garbage bags taped to the window off to his right.

TRUMP (Motioning the analysts to sit on the floor): All right, the chairs and couches are gone, so we’re gonna rough it, you nerds. Now let me have it.

NSA ANALYST (Breaking an uncomfortable silence): Have what, sir?

TRUMP (Snarling): How dare you question me? Your breasts aren’t big enough to question me!

FBI ANALYST (Coming to the aid of his NSA counterpart): Mr. President, Carol was just saying that all of us have no idea what this briefing is supposed to be about.

TRUMP (Checking his wristwatch): Shut up, nerd! I’m only going to say this once. I want to hear the most important secret you have in 50 words or less. Starting with you, Miss Small Tits.

NSA ANALYST (Looking at her colleagues who shrug their shoulders, then back to Trump): You mean you want me to divulge our most sensitive sources and methods?

TRUMP: Duh! Let’s have it!!

NSA ANALYST (Resignedly): All right, Mr. President. Vladimir Putin has been our most valued source. His intercepted phone calls provided us with all the information we needed to explain your relationship with him. The investments, the sex, the…

TRUMP (Dismissively): Enough, let’s move on. FBI Guy, what do you have for me?

FBI ANALYST (Thoughtfully): Sir, the number one threat to the Homeland remains domestic terrorist groups such as…

TRUMP (Contemptuously): Yada, yada, yada, who cares. Give me sensitive sources and methods or I’ll have you reassigned to the Anchorage Field Office!

FBI ANALYST (Trembling): OK, OK! Our most sensitive source has been Premier Putin. We have been in constant comm…

TRUMP (Furiously): Shut up! Who asked you?! You’re Putin’s source, not me! All right, let’s hear from the CIA!

CIA ANALYST (Resignedly): It’s Putin for us too, sir.

TRUMP (Stroking his forehead): Damn! All right, CIA Guy, give me your second-best source.

CIA ANALYST (Tentatively): It’s Erdogan of Turkey.

TRUMP (Stroking his forehead again): Christ, don’t tell me Kim and Netanyahu are #3 and #4.


FBI ANALYST (Unable to resist): Sir, your Presidency has been a gold mine for intelligence analysts everywhere. Before, we always had to assess motivations and intentions, but with you, Mr. President, we knew it was always about the money.

TRUMP (Proudly): Damn straight! All right, you nerds, I made your life easy these past four years, so now it’s payback time. Give me one solid secret I don’t know.


NSA ANALYST: Mr. President, we never included intelligence in your Daily Briefs that we thought would be of economic value to you personally.

CIA ANALYST (Sheepishly): Well, I let a couple of valuable secrets sneak through but since you never read any of our briefs. No harm, no foul, right?

FBI ANALYST (Defiantly): All right, let’s get this over with. I’ll give you a secret.

TRUMP (Excitedly): Let’s have it!

FBI ANALYST (Matter-of-Factly): Your HUD Secretary Ben Carlson has been communicating with aliens for the past four years.

TRUMP (Angry): That damn Negro! Were they Guatemalans or Hondurans?

FBI ANALYST: You don’t understand. They’re SPACE aliens.

TRUMP (Thoughtfully): That’s interesting. How much do you think that secret’s worth?