The Trumps Bug Out

A happy fiction story for Christmastime!

Melania padded another setting of Dolley Madison china with carefully layered evening gowns. Not that she liked the pattern. Who was this Dolley Madison to make so many choices about the White House when she already has so many songs and Western wear? Melania looked toward Donald, on the phone again while peeking out the curtains to see his special balcony. This worry — it was cutting into his angry Tweeking. He wasn't even watching Hannity.

"Donald!" she cried in the voice she used for getting him to ask the nice men from Deutsche Bank to throw in a few evening gowns. "Which onnnnnne?"

Donald slammed the phone down on the stupid not-even-gold desk where he was supposed to sign his name on dumb old papers for his dumb old job. For some reason no one was picking up.

"I told you," he snapped, "They're fighting over me. We're going with whoever loves me best and wins getting to take care of me. Could be with Erdogan, could be with the prince guy. Could be any of them."

Melania whispered "Please not Russia please not Russia please not Russia" as she slid the silver into her satin gloves.

"Pack quicker," Donald snapped as he used his forearm to clear a mantle's worth of knick-knacks into a Hefty bag. Melania gave the finger to a holly wreath and began wrapping the Churchill bust in scarves.

Donald needed someone to help open The Google. He had only gotten as far as IF YOU PARDON YOURSELF DO YOU HAVE TO SAY THE CRIMES YOU DID when he heard a commotion in the hall.

Ivanka, the Big Sons, and Jared burst in with a flurry of bitching.

"No, I'm the President next!" shouted Don. "I'm the oldest!"

"No, I get to be President next!" pouted Ivanka, "Everyone loves me best!"

Eric laid down on the floor and pedaled his legs in the air. "I'm losing weight, you notice, Pop?"

Jared took a deep breath and let out his customary high-pitched prolonged shriek until the others quieted down.

"I already solved it, like the Middle East. God . It's cuter if it's Ivanka then me then Ivanka then me and then Junior."

"Then me!" said Eric, finally standing up. Silence fell as everyone found a different spot on the wall to look at.

"Yes," said Junior. "Yes, that's it."

Ivanka stamped prettily. "Daddy, I want to be president now ."

"OK, Princess," said Donald. "You can be president for six months, then I'm president again."

Eric dropped to the floor and began cycling his legs again. Junior and Jared threw a quick rock-paper-scissors. It ended the exact same way it always did: Junior always threw rock because manly. Jared always threw scissors because sophisticated. Jared braced himself with thoughts of egg salad and clean, white paper. No words or anything. Maybe it could be a foldy boat. He should have been in charge of the Navy too.

"None of us get to be president until 2024," he croaked. "It's more fun that way."

Donald turned purple under the orange. He threw an ashtray at the glass French doors. It missed.

"NOBODY GETS TO BE PRESIDENT BUT ME. I DIBS PRESIDENT FOREVER!"

Everyone nodded. Melania picked up the ashtray and put it in Donald's jacket pocket.

"Stupid Lincoln giant freak fingers," Donald and Melania murmured as one. And then she moved away before he could touch her.

"But first, Mr. President," simpered Ivanka, "We do have to take that little vacation in a country that doesn't extradite."

"I bet they were all fighting over you," said Junior, stepping across Ivanka and not coked up at all. "Who won?"

Donald tried to throw another ashtray, but he was spent. The ashtray dribbled to the floor.

At last, the phone rang. Donald grabbed it, sent six all-caps tweets, and picked up. He swelled with pride.

"Oh, hello, Vladimir Putin ," he said to the room. "I'm ready to collect… No, I have kompromat on you. No, I have kompromat on you. No,Ihave kompromat on you, no takebacks times one million! …Fine, I look forward to our accommodations. It's a nice chance for you to show how much you value me." Donald hung up. "It's Russia."

Melania went to her Inner Rage Place, broke three limbs off the Christmas tree, and threw a wicker angel into the fire as Junior gathered the bags and Jared called for the helicopter.

Eric knew it was time to fill the silence with some hope.

"I'm getting married, Pop. Don't forget it."

After grabbing any sconce in reach, the family went to board Marine One for the surprise midnight "diplomatic visit."

Back in Moscow, Vladimir Putin picked up his phone again.

"Ready the ice hovel," he said.

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