July 18, 2018
Obviously, we all are rooting for Trump here. It seems that Trump really has his back to the wall against the Deep State.
As US President Donald Trump read a statement expressing his “full faith and support” to the US intelligence agencies, which he was accused of demeaning at the Helsinki summit, the White House went dark for a moment.
“I have full faith and support… for America’s intelligence agencies,” Trump said on Tuesday afternoon, reading off a document prepared for him. At that point, the lights went out in the room.
“Oops, they just turned off the light. That must be the intelligence agencies,” Trump joked, to chuckles from the Republican lawmakers he was meeting with.
That’s some dark humor.
I can just imagine that Trump’s Judas is somewhere in the chuckling crowd of bug yesman.
Or it’s just Ivanka and Jared – his big glaring weak spot.
She shed silicon tears, perfectly rehearsed and just the right amount, making her beautiful eyes shine brighter through the watery sheen, but not enough to get them red and bloodshot, and God forbid, not enough to make her expensive little nose turn red or start dripping like a leaky faucet.
She had seen the scene play out in her head many times already, and she kept her poise at the perfect level, neither too cold and neither too soppy. Just right. Just like she practiced. The cameras and the aids all seemed convinced.
Of course, it was Jared and his friends who had come up with the plan. She let him focus on the details. What mattered to her was the delivery.
She wanted her father to know how much he had hurt her. None of her friends would talk to her because of him. The whirling clubs full of people that would dote on her every move suddenly shut their doors on her. Her girlfriends stopped liking her Instagram selfies. “I wanted them to clap for me, daddy” she whispered so no one could hear.
But he was too sick to hear her now.
And really, Jared’s friends were right. Her father was selfish. Did he not think what this would mean for her and for her life when he started saying all those mean things on Twitter? He must not have really loved her. That was the only explanation. Jared loved her though. He wanted everyone to like her again. And he said that it would protect the children. They probably wouldn’t be let into Penn or Princeton – his good friends told him so.
And then they told her that it was the only way. In fact, it was the best way. “You’ll be happy again, and you know how well the medicine works, you take these pills every day yourself,” Jared had started explaining it all to her. Everything was so confusing and difficult before Jared explained it. “Think of the children, and think of what people are saying about them when you’re not looking. They say all these awful things.”
Ivanka’s heart skipped a beat. They probably were saying bad things about her. The thought drove her mad. She reached with shaking hands for her purse where the pills were. She fumbled with the clasp. “Here, let me help you,” Jared softly said. She felt a wave or gratitude to Jared and calmed down as she swallowed the little white flat sphere with a shudder. He watched her with careful eyes and gave that thin smile of his she had seen him practicing in the mirror for the cameras back when they had first started dating. She felt a slight chill go down her spine, but the wave of relief that began washing over her from the pill didn’t let her dwell on it.
“There you go…see? All better.” He softly cooed at her as she zoned out and flipped on the Netflix.
That was a month ago.
And then Jared had started planning. She had hesitated at first, but he was so…convincing.
“It will be better this way,” he whispered to her as she took the pills he had gotten. “They will calm him down a little, get him to sleep more, make him more reasonable and calm…you want that don’t you? You want to help him, right?”
She had started putting the little pills into his McSlurpee – which she knew he had every Thursday in bed with his Big Mac and French Fries while watching the Gorilla Combat Channel.
He trusted her of course – she was the only one that could bring him food without it getting checked by the ever-watchful guards. In fact, she had thrown a tantrum when they tried to make her follow the rules. But her father stepped in and convinced them to make an exception for her.
“But sir…” the agent whispered through terse lips, struggling hard to state the obvious.
“I don’t want to hear any more about it.” He said firmly and put a firm hand around his daughter’s shoulders. “She’s an exception.”
And then he started to calm down, just like Jared said he would. He became almost…slow. All of a sudden, he wasn’t Tweeting at journalists in the early AM and he even stopped his nightly ritual of reading the autographed copy of Mein Kampf that he kept by the bedside. The book was earmarked and full of notes, highlights and minor edits. Often times, she had seen her father shake his head and mutter under his breath, “those fucking kikes,” before putting the book away and turning over on his side to sleep. She shuddered now as she leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. The powerful gaze of the evil, evil man on the cover bored into her, as if his spirit was reaching through the cover of the book and silently judging her.
She reached over and with shaking hands turned the book around, and put it back down on its face. Hands still shaking, she reached for her own pills. Hers were different-looking than the ones she had been slipping her father, it was true. But she was sure that it was the same pills, just maybe a different dosage. Jared said that the doctors knew what they were doing. She trusted Jared.
The shuffling behind her meant that the doctors and cabinet members were leaving the room now.
Looking carefully over her shoulder, she could see someone still standing by the door. It was Stephen Miller.
He lingered there by the door moment, staring at her with his deep-set dead eyes. She felt her heart quicken and sweat beads begin to appear. She suddenly felt very afraid. Would he see through her? Did he somehow know?
His sharp, receding hairline showed off an impressive dome. It was Lenin-like and betrayed a powerful mind almost ready to burst out of its bony cage.
Jared hated him and he told her to be careful around him. She had tried to convince Daddy that he was a bad man, but it was only after he started getting his medicine that he started to finally listen.
“Get rid of him, Daddy…he’s too clever. He looks at me strangely. Jared says he’s a bad man…”
His cold eyes shifted to the barely moving covers, softly rising and falling, under which his boss and president lay, and then coldly flicked back to her.
She couldn’t bear it anymore.
Her fingers fumbled with the clasp on her purse, as she tried to distract herself and get inside. “Don’t look at him!” her mind screamed. A long bead of sweat slid down the waterslide of her inner forearm to her fingertip. Panicking now, she realized that it was pouring down.
A soft but distinct thump.
He took a step closer to her now, and she froze. Eyes fixed on the purse, but ears trained to hear the next step on the soft carpet coming her way. She trembled. “Why, why?” Her mind screamed. “But I practiced!” She whined to herself. “Why does he know?!”
But the door suddenly squealed open and a familiar face strode into the room. He flashed Stephen one of those thin smiles of his – they never reached his eyes, because his tiny eyes always stayed the same. His smile did its best, but it couldn’t cover up the little, rat-like beady orbs in his head that seemed to sparkle with fear and cruelty at the same time.
“Stephen, good to see you. We’re touched that you came, we just weren’t sure…just with the recent demotion and all.”
He held his hand hanging in the no man’s land between them, soft and limp, clammy and moist, but in appearance perfect, of course.
Stephen fixed his cold, penetrating gaze on Jared now and held it there. He turned his body around, shoulders first and took a step closer to Jared, still staring him straight in the eyes.
Jared’s smile stayed fixed and his hand didn’t shake like Ivanka’s. But his little dark eyes started darting around in their sockets. He couldn’t look Stephen straight in the eye.
Stephen’s gaze fell down onto Jared’s proffered hand and began to reach out, but stopped himself halfway…the skin on Jared’s wrist was moving…writhing almost.
“Wha-” Stephen began to say.
But the bed suddenly creaked and a hand shot out. From underneath the covers, it arced over the bed and slammed down on Ivanka’s purse-clasp. Ivanka let out a little shriek.
Her father’s gnarled old paw of a hand curled around the purse, and with a sudden burst of strength, he hurled the little bag across the room. “Don’t,” he hoarsely whispered, looking straight at her with lucid eyes. “Don’t,” he said again as his strength began to fail him. With his still-extended hand he began to reach, or was it…no he began to point. At him, at her husband, at Jared.
His mouth open now, as if struggling to say something, his lips flickering as only a groan came out and then his face clouded over into an unmistakable look of anger and wrath. The hand, now an unmistakable finger, shaking but indisputably pointing straight at Jared.
“Y-y-you…” he managed to choke out.
Ivanka’s hands reflexively slammed into her cheeks with a thick slap as she gasped.
Jared’s eyes were rolling around in his eye sockets now and a distinct hissing sound started coming from behind his white teeth so perfectly gleaming, and non-threatening, so good on the photographs.
With a slight groan, her father’s hand crumpled, and he lost consciousness.
“Daddy!” she called out and threw herself on the bed.
The sudden movement distracted Stephen, who ripped his attention away from Jared back to the bed.
Jared saw his chance, turned on his heels and fled through the still open door. He smashed into a staffer, scattering a bundle of manilla folders clasped in her plump white hands as he began speed-walking, almost tripping over himself.
He couldn’t keep his balance and he frantically tried to cover his right hand. The skin had begun molting early.
“Hold up!” It was Stephen’s voice, coming from behind him. Jared let out a hiss and started running now, still frantically trying to stuff his molting reptile-like right hand deeper into his blazer sleeve and cover the ends up with his free hand. One of his irises had already lost its round human form.
He fled down the West Wing corridor at full speed now, leaving bits of human skin trailing behind him.
Slamming the door of his room behind him, he scrambled through his sack of tools. The hammering at the door told him that he wouldn’t have time to put on his new skin suit before Stephen broke through. He always knew that Stephen was the real obstacle. He wasn’t sure that Stephen even knew who he truly was. But Jared did: he was a Reptilikike that had turned against his own.
With his scaly claw, he reached for the special red chalk made from gentile foreskin blood painstakingly harvested from American hospitals by special Reptilikike agents masquerading as doctors.
He began drawing with the chalk on the wall as the pounding got louder. Suddenly it stopped, just as Jared finished drawing the portal to the Reptilikike dimension – a giant six-pointed star set in a Hipster triangle, with a creepy eye in the middle. The lines of chalk began to glow and the eye began to move. It fixed its gaze on Jared and let out a laser retinal scan that bathed him in red light.
Suddenly the double-doors burst open wide and free off their hinges. A powerful gust of air swept into the room as Stephen strode in, his eyes glowing red with power.
“Stop!” He ordered. But it was too late. Jared was already halfway through the portal, melting into the wall. He let out one last hiss as he sank through the wall, his tail slipping through last before the eye closed and the glowing doorway faded away…