“Saving Trump” a satire


A tall man with a ten-gallon hat sat in a vintage white Cadillac convertible top-down angrily pressing buttons across the dashboard:

“God-damn it!” he yelled.

He opened his flip-phone and punched-in the number one code.

The buxom blonde switched on the flame thrower and was forced backwards, the flame singed the ceiling before she got a hold of the thing. Aimed it at the king-sized bed and for a few moments she watched fire lick the bed. To her surprise she got turned-on: “Oh.”

“Where is she?” Tex yelled into the air.

She shut it down, lowered the unit and ran down the stairs before she realized her cell phone was buzzing.

“Yeah,” she pressed a button on the phone. “Where are you? I’ve been waiting!” She fumed.

The vibrational generator kicked in and the sound of an old internal combustion gas-guzzler revving its engine blared out a little to loudly before it settled down. It went into an idle akin to the actual state of the engine.

“Oh, there you are,” she yelled hearing the rev, “’bout time. I’m coming.”

She grabbed two bags and burst dramatically out the front door. Running, threw her bags into the back seat, climbed in. He floored it out onto the road nearly colliding with a small sports car.

Two fire drones shot over fields of corn towards the house, sirens blazing.

In a few minutes they were out onto the main road as an environmental alarm sounded and the fiberglass roof hummed up and covered them. Fire engines roared passed, sirens a-blaring.

“Where to now, Tex?” Cindy asked excitedly.

“Cin, don’t call me that. We’re going to get the Leader.”

“Sorry Tex, I mean Rocky. I thought you were the Leader, hun?” she whined.

“We’re all leaders Cindy. But this is about the Mission.”

“Oh yeah, right, the Mission.”


A short balding man with a large belly, Joe, a stocky man with long stringy black hair, Lenny, and The Suit, a tall thin nondescript man in a black suit and tie (white shirt) sat around a small table in a basement room amidst hunks of black equipment that was buzzing softly.

“Secure?” Lenny asked as he furtively glanced around the small space.

Joe nodded followed by The Suit.

“Introductions?” Lenny seemed nervous.

“No introductions necessary,” the Suit said flatly. “JK vouched for the two of you. But Lenny, you know the plan and the place or should I say places?”

“There are three places,” Lenny smirked.

“Could say more about the three places?” Joe asked.

“I could, but that’s not why were here, is it?” Sarcasm.

“Lenny’s right. They, the DS is closing in on Him and we have to get Him to safety before its too late,” The Suit said smoothly.

“Wait for it to blow over, then,” Joe said smugly.

“You haven’t read the news? They’re coming for Him.” Lenny

“Right Joe. We need to coordinate with you about the tech. Isn’t that right?” The Suit asked.

“Uh-huh.” Joe.


The white caddy and the black step-van pulled onto a long dirt path off a remote secondary road in somewhere in the Southern California high desert, plumes of dust in their wake.

“Shit, would you look at that,” Tex spat out the window.

The shack was half burnt down.

“It’s totally weird!” Cindy exclaimed.

A tall man with a baseball cap strode towards the shack, jerked around in a one-eighty throwing his arms out of their sockets, well — it looked that way.

“Well!” he shouted out in the silence.

The three others, Tex, Cindy, and Vince disembarked while Leon started moving charred boards out of the way. He unlocked the inner door.

“Help me with this,” Leon commanded.

They took the wide heavy tarp and pulled it to the opposite side of the space.

“Clear that crap off,” Leon commanded. The other three put on heavy-duty gloves and cleared the eight-foot disk of debris and dust. There it was: a cone shaped disk thing.

Leon had a small device in his hand but was frozen in-place.

“Leon?” Vince sheepishly asked.

“Leon!” Tex shouted.

“What? Oh Yeah, on point.” He placed the electronic pad on the cone and waited. A green light showed. He pressed some buttons and something popped. They had to push the cone counterclockwise which revealed a dark hole down into something.

“Flashlight. Vince?”

“Yeah, here.” Vince handed Leon the flashlight.

Leon and Vince climbed down.

“You guys should wait up there. There may not be enough room down here.”

“Fuck it, we’re coming down,” Tex said.

As soon as Cindy stepped onto the earth floor she said:

“This looks and feels like one of those old missile silos from the ‘50s.”

“Okay,” Leon grumped.

“You mean I was right? I was right, oh — my — God!”


“Ouch. How many more of these shots do I have to take?” He asked.

“That’s the last one, sir.”

“Imagine me as The Supreme Leader of the Free World,” DT said. “How much right now all together?”

JK slid him a pad of paper.

“Not as much as I would have thought. I can do a lot better, easy,” DT said.


The four of them lingered at the van under the big sign:


“I have your word — you’re not going to touch the equipment, right?” Leon said to Tex and Cindy. “Wait a sec. Stay there.”

Leon strode to a long container truck. He spoke with the driver and handed her a wad of cash. Leon gestured Vince to come over.

“What?” Vince.

“I rented Tex and Cindy a deluxe king bunk for them to do-it while we eat and get supplies.”

“This is so — embarrassing,” Vince balked.

“Go get their asses over here and lock the van,” Leon said.


They sat eating two meatless burgers and fries along with some nut-milk shakes in a booth in the back away from the rest of the restaurant crowd.

“You look as if you have a problem.” Vince told Leon. “Are you hearing voices now too?” Vince laughed.

“I’m the psychic-one. You’re the healer, damn it. Are you snooping on me?”

“No, no, I was guessing. You’ve been preoccupied and you slipped into a couple of dissociative states or so it seemed. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Well, sure, I guess. As a remote viewer I was never trained in telepathy or clairaudience, so when I heard these voices I didn’t know what to make of them.”

“Were they talking to you?”

“No, nothing like that. They were covertly talking to each other and I was eavesdropping. I tried looking at where they were but when I did I got a splitting headache so I just continued to listen.”

“Can you tell me what they were saying?”

“That’s what doesn’t make any sense. But I got the sense they were working for the agency.”

“You mean — “

“That’s right, there was a lot of code. Code names for the President, some guy, never heard of him.”

“Obama? Barack Obama?”

“No. No. I don’t think so.”

“Wow, strange. Do you think it has to do with the Miracle Space you saw on Mount Shasta?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. We’ll see I guess.”

“Don’t you mean that you’ll see?” Vince guffawed.

“Right, right,” Leon chuckled.

A little while later while they were eating some apple pie (made from cloned apples) Vince leaned across the table a bit:

“Can you tell me something?”

“Hmm, what?”

“Is this a sanctioned Op?”

“Its need to know and you don’t.”

“Okay, I can live with that.”

Leon took his finger off the trigger of Sig under the table.

28 Hours Later

The US Park Rangers had set up a perimeter around Panther Meadow and cleared all the visitors, all three of them. Tex, Cindy, Vance and Leon waited near to the space where it was supposed to happen. They waited from before dawn to near sunset. Tex and Leon set up lights as the daylight faded and Vance spread out some warming sticks.

All but three rangers left. The three were carrying automatic weapons and were not really rangers, but Leon’s people.

The mountain rumbled.

“Earthquake, here?” Tex was perplexed and outraged.

“It’s an active volcano. Get a grip,” Leon cracked.

Waves of energy passed over the area.

A pink-skinned naked fat man with a weird hair-do appeared and was flat on his back in the cleared space — two seconds later a suit of clothing and a red tie appeared nearby. He began to convulse.

“You’re up, chief,” Tex said to Vince.

“He’s right, go!” Leon.

“Wow, this is cool,” Cindy.

Vince performed CPR for about a minute. Then he put his hands on the guy’s chest and delivered a jolt of electrical energy. Then a second. The man coughed and blinked. He grabbed the near-by clothing and awkwardly covered himself with the pieces. The others stared at the strange man.

“Help me up,” the man said. “No wait. You guys turn around, and you, blondie, you help me up.” Cindy started forward.

“No funny stuff Mista, I got a shot-gun right here.”

“No need to worry I’m the most important man in the world.”

Cindy awkwardly helped the man to his feet, caught a glimpse of his junk and started to giggle. The man shoved her back and Tex cocked his shotgun. The man put on his pants and shirt. There were no shoes or socks. He found his jacket and put it on.

“Well it worked,” the fat man said.


DT disappeared from the table with a pop. A thinner, younger looking version of him re-appeared. He convulsed. Medics ran in and shocked his heart back into a good sinus rhythm but the younger looking DT remained unconscious.

“What the hell happened?” the Suit demanded of Joe.

“I don’t know. When Lenny comes back tomorrow he can tell us,” Joe said. “My people are checking the equipment for errors now.” Everybody was frozen. The Suit turned and clapped his hands:

“Okay people. Action. Get him to the med unit, now!”

Nine people began to act.


The five of them entered the sprawling house with the gagged fat man. They went down into the basement and opened a wall into a bunker.

Once the door clicked shut, they took the makeshift gag out of the fat man’s mouth.

“This is outrageous. I am Donald Trump, President of the United States of America and you people are all dead.”

They looked at each other and patted themselves down except Leon.

“Jesus Christ, you people are idiots. He means he thinks he has the power to terminate us,” Leon said.

“I’m tying this loon up,” Tex said.

“No, you’re not,” Trump screamed.

“Shut-up, fatso,” Leon slapped him down.

Vince and Cindy held him in the chair while Tex bound his hands and feet.

“I’m the President of the United States and I demand,” Leon punched him hard in the face. His head rolled back, unconscious

“Let’s check his pants and jacket for ID,” Vince said.

“Good idea. I need some ice for my hand.”

“Nothing, no wallet,” Tex said.

“He’s coming around,” Cindy said.

“I don’t know who you think you are, bub, but you’re not the President,” Leon said.

“Well… who the hell is the fucking President.”

“Obama,” Cindy said.

“Barack O-bomber, that guy already served his two terms.”

“No. It’s a long story, bud, but Michelle Obama is President.”

“No way, I beat that slimy traitor Hillary Clinton. I’m President. Did you check my wallet?”

“You don’t have one.” Tex said.

“It must be on the mountain. They said they would send it. And when my people get done with you you’ll wish you’d taken the deal.”

“What deal?” Cindy said.

“I’ve know where there’s a buried treasure of pure gold bars,” Trump said.

“Don’t believe anything he says. He’d say anything to get free.”

Leon stuffed the sock back in his mouth.

“So, this is the miracle?” Cindy wondered.

Trump squirmed and tried to spit out the sock.

“I’m hungered,” Vince said. “Let’s go upstairs.” Leon held up a finger. Then he duct-taped the sock to Trump’s face. He secured the nylon line and hand-cuffed his wrists. He duct-taped his ankles to the chair too.

“Okay, we can go. We have to decide what to do with him.”

Trump tried yelling through the sock his face turning red.

“Cool it bub,” Tex said and they left the room.

“Suppose he gets out of the restraints?” Cindy said as they went up the stairs.

“We have cameras to watch him,” Leon said. “And we can monitor his vitals through the handcuffs.”


“I suppose we should notify the VP?” The Suit said over the phone.

Two days later a flash drive appeared on the transporter platform. After retrofitting the drive for the different frequency, they watched the video — It was Lenny talking:

“Something went disastrously wrong. We never received President Trump here. My people have some possible explanations. As you know, as I said there are three places: three separate realities that exist side by side and feed on each other’s energies to some degree:

There’s the reality where Donald Trump is President and we’re all pretty familiar with that. I call that reality — The Active Reality Principle, where things happen cause and effect really operate swiftly and decisively.

Where I am is the Neutral Reality Principle. Cause and effect operate here to, but at a much slower pace. Most of the tech and the values of the people are still very fifties here. Donald Trump is the wealthiest man in the world, is really a genius in terms of tech and financial markets and would make a much better president than our Donald even though he too is a narcissist. I hope he got there okay. Evidence on our end suggests that happened with some glitches.

The third reality I call The Receptive Reality Principle. The corruption in that reality pales to our own. The United States is a not a world power, it teeters on being a 3rd world country, its riddled with drug cartels especially in the southern states that border Mexico. In fact, The Hispanic Union of Central America or HUCA is the world power and Spanish is the international language. Many poor Americans are trying to immigrate there. There is no history of the Trumps here. It looks like they never made it out of Europe.

My people are suggesting that here may not have been adequate protection from sunspot activity and the signal may have been diverted to The Receptive Reality where President Trump would not be recognized for the great leader he is at all.

Frank Ontario | empathy, logic, love.

Top Writer in Spiritual Energy. Messenger, an eclectic, empathetic, seeking oneness in all, & humor. Love writing!!! the.kai9@gmail.com | https://the-kai.com/