Groundhog/Election Day

"For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace"-Romans 6:14

(By American Zen's Mike Flannigan, on loan from Ari.)

Close up on an alarm clock. 5:59 turns to 6:00. It triggers the radio alarm. Except, instead of Sonny and Cher's "I've Got You, Babe", the radio beside Trump's bed in the Executive Mansion blares "YMCA" by the Village People. It should be Friday the 13th. Yet for the 11th day in a row, it's Election Day for Donald Trump. He doesn't have to go to a polling place. With his trademark blatant hypocrisy, Trump already voted early via mail-in ballot after telling his supporters, "Do as I say, not as I do!" He grunts and farts as he tries to bound out of bed. It's Election Day again: The presidency is up for grabs for the 11th consecutive day.

   The first couple of November Thirds that Trump had relived were, admittedly, utter disasters, disasters that were someone else's fault, obviously. He saw Steve Bannon running toward him, anxious for a reunion with his old friend, and Trump waddled away from him before Bannon got arrested just in time for fraud concerning the We Build the Wall campaign.

     On the way to St. John's across Pennsylvania Avenue, a church at which he does not worship, he sees in the alley a sickly old man wheezing, "Make America Great Again, Again," before dying of COVID-19. Trump had muttered, "Good riddance. He was disgusting," before moving on. He accosts black people, women and Latinos on their way to the polls and screams, "Why won't you losers vote for me?!"

    Just like yesterday, the original Election Day, Biden took a commanding lead early on and never relinquished it. He will be the President-elect, Sen. Kamala Harris the Vice President-elect. OK, that didn't work. He watches Sean Hannity that night with great comfort as Hannity calmly but forcefully informs the American public that Barack Obama, from his sex palace in Nairobi, is trying to turn the president's mushroom-headed penis into an antenna that will broadcast a more Socialist reboot of Air America starring former Senator Al Franken as he's molesting and eating babies.

    5:59 turns to 6:00 the next day. "Young man, there's no need to feel down I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground," blares the radio and Trump silences it with his pudgy little fist as he then almost successfully succeeds in picking himself off the ground until he calls in a Secret Service agent.

    He sees Steve Bannon, joy once again lighting his rosy face as he rushes toward Trump. "Write something good about me on Breitbart!" he says, running away just as Bannon is swarmed by federal agents. He goes to St. John's and sees the wheezing, dying man. "Make America Great Again, Again,"

    "Don't die until you vote for me, first! Oh fuck. That was useless," the president says as the man collapses and dies.

     "Seriously, what the hell have you got to lose by voting for me? I saved Washington DC! I drained the swamp!" he told skeptical black, female and Latino voters on their way to the polls.

     He slouches back to the White House. It still isn't working. He turns on the TV.

     "Mr. President, I know you're watching me. If your penis starts tingling, it's because..."

     Trump falls asleep with a smile on his face. Surely, he'll get it right tomorrow.

     6:00. "Young man, there's no need to feel down..."

     Here we go.

    But Trump drives off a cliff in a semi with the turkey he was to pardon his final Thanksgiving pardoning. OK, don't do that tomorrow.

     "Young man, there's no need to feel down..."

     "Donald...!"

     "Help me build the wall, Steve!" "Mr. Bannon, you're under arrest." "I never met him!"

     "Make America Great Again, Again, cough, cough!"

     "Wait, you can't die! You have to vote for me, first! Shit..."

     "...that tingle in your penis will be Al Franken..."

     6:00. "Young man, there's no need...

     "A press conference! I gotta call Rudy!"

     "...was instead held at Four Season Total Landscaping right around the corner from a sex toy shop named 'Fantasy Island'..."

     "Oh, shit, you bald-headed moron!"

     "Young man, there's no need to feel down..."

     Lawsuits! That's the key!

     Trump then hires an army of volunteer lawyers, fresh-faced young Republican operatives, most of whom having graduated law school, a few who'd even passed their state bar exams on the first try, paralegals and others who'd watched more than three episodes of Boston Legal.

      "OK, our case is completely based on lies and spam."

      "Your honor, the Trump campaign's attorney is actually my business partner."

      "And you're his witness?!"

      "Young man, there's no need to feel down..."

      Another lawsuit. More, more lawsuits!

      I need to fire people!

     "Chad, fire the guy who called the election the most secure in history like I did!"

     "No."

     "This is hearsay on a sticky note. This is your evidence?!"

     "Uh... yes?"

     "...photographic evidence that Sasha and Malia Obama are working as handmaidens in the sex palace..."

     "Young man..."

     "Dominion! They stole millions of votes from me! QAnon said so! Ha ha!"

     "Make America Great Again, Again, cough, cough!"

     "Get a job, loser!"

     "Why is Joe Scarborough calling him 'President-elect Biden'? I won the election! I won!"

     "Now, if you just wrap that precious little mushroom head with tin foil, sir, you'll block..."

     6:00."The party's over..."

     "What? What happened to the Village People? Is it November 4th? I won! I'm still the president!"

     Knock knock.

    "Who is it?"

    "The Secret Service, sir. It's January 20th."

    "I slept for over 65 days? OK, tell my protective detail I'll be out in a couple of hours after I do my hair and makeup..."

    "We're not your protective detail, any more. We're to escort you out of the White House."

    "OK, uh, give me a minute..."

    "Now, sir."

    "Hold on, just a minute..." he says as he throws a knotted sheet out a West Wing window just as the door is broken down...