He wears a hat that says “MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN” but we all know what’s really on Donald Trump’s mind: China, an old mistress of sorts. “How could I dislike China?” Donald asks us, trying to seem casual yet confident. But we know it’s something more.
“I love China,” Don pauses. “China all the time.”
Corey, his trusty campaign manager, pulls Donald aside after the speech. In a hushed tone, he says, “Donnie, you’re talking about China too much.”
Donald attempts to feign surprise. He says, almost sexily, “Funny you say that, I haven’t thought about China in a very long time.”
“Cut the shit,” Corey says. This is the tough love Donald needs to win, and he knows this.
“But look at what China’s doing,” Donald whines.
“I know Donald, I know.” Donald nuzzles his head into Corey’s chest, weeping softly.
They are determined to turn this around.
“Karl, take China!” Donald commands. He says this to thousands of fans who watch him stoically, their hearts full of rage and adoration. But he doesn’t want Karl to take it; he knows this. He wants China all to himself; China may have forgotten Don a long time ago, but Don has never forgotten China. Not ever. No way.
“People say I don’t like China? I love China,” Trump sweetly coos into the camera. He can’t help himself. “China,” he continues, more confidently this time.
When he returns home, late at night, drunk off overpriced champagne and regret, full of pizza devoured with a knife and fork, he switches on China Central Television. His cable bill is out of control, even for a man of his stature, with the Chinese TV bundle package and the pay-per-view porn, but he can’t get China out of his head.
As soon as he hears the first words fall out of the anchor’s mouth, the Mandarin sounding sweet and almost erotic, a single tear slides down Donald’s cheek. It’s as if he’s been slapped in the face by nostalgia. “China,” he wails.
When Donald is in the shower later that night, he cries and touches himself. “China!” he yells, the sound of his voice shielded by the sound of running water. “Oh China!”
He dries himself off and glances at the answering machine. Ten messages from Corey. He knows what they’re about, but he can’t stand to hear it, not tonight. He checks his cell phone.
“New message from Corey <3 Lewandowski”
Trump reluctantly opens the message.
Corey writes, “I know you miss China. That’s okay. It’ll be OK, Donald. I love you. Just don’t forget about your beau, America.”
“China,” Donald whispers into the abyss. “China.”
Photo via Norman B. Leventhal Map Center/Flickr (CC BY 2.0)
