trump and really think this way it's fucking impossible. after the 90s and after eight years of shitting obama and then four years of all this shit you still think republicans will step up and do the right thing you're not even getting votes you dumb motherfucker you're a fucking writer goddamn fucking idiot.
Mitch McConnell walks in, the rest of room solemnly bow their heads. They know what's coming. One-by-one, they take their leave.
"Sit," instructs McConnell. Trump hesitates, but leans back into his chair. The suede is velvelty smooth. He's overcome with emotion, but this time it feels different.
"I can still do this!" Trump petulantly murmurs.
McConnell nods appreciably. He takes a knee, like all good coaches. "Donald. You're a national treasure; you're a bona fide rock star. But you know the stakes. It's the top of the 6th, we're up by several runs, but there's a mercy rule." Mitch tilts his head back, takes a mighty sniffle, and hocks at fat loogie.
"Not on the presidential carpet!"
"It'll come out." He slaps Donald. "It's their turn."
(ah fuck it I got bored)