CSI: American Carnage (Thursday, March 26, 2020)
WASHINGTON – Hold still, Mr. President, Heather says, we’ve got to sponge you. We like that don’t we? Donald squirms. He says to Heather, A little more orange with the brush, okay, I like the orange, but not too orange. Dawn had to tone it down. Then I toned Dawn down. Heather says, We like the orange? Well we will get the orange. Let us work a spongy sponge, okay? I think we’ll like it. Donald says, Okay, okay, but you gotta hurry up. There’s only 2 minutes, 37 seconds to airtime, okay. Now 2 minutes and 22 seconds. Heather says, You have to sit still. Stop squirming. Settle down. She pats Donalds face with a sponge and does some detail work with a brush. Heather says, We like pork butt don’t we? Donald says, For the pulled pork, yeah, yeah, on a bun, pork butt on a bun. With the sauce. Why? Heather says, Just wondering. She finishes brushing Donald’s broad face, now the color of meaty fresh pork. Donald says, We’ve got 29 seconds. Heather says, We’re done, we are beautiful today, very nice. Donald heaves himself out of the chair looking at his watch. Three, two, one. A producer shouts, We are live! Donald walks through the door, as he has so many times before, through the door, he waves. He sees Mike and Mike already in place. Donald frowns. He wonders to himself, Not good, not good. We can’t have that. We are not dealing with the Mike and Mike Show. No way. Also, we need a theme and a band, Donald thinks, this show needs a theme and a bandleader. Mnuchin? Could he lead a band? Donald sees Tony next to the Birx woman, so old, both of them, so fucking old. Little Tony. Tony the Ragdoll, Tony Bust-Ur-Balls, Tony the Mouth. Tony Mothhead. Some call him that. He’s always fluttering around lights, always talking about science, always coming up with one bullshit fact after another, always playing to the media. Donald tries to think of what happens to moths. Who knows. Nobody knows. Or if not nobody, very few. Very few know where moths go in the winter. Moths are what you squash, what else is there to know? Donald looks out at the so-called reporters sitting in their little fucking chairs waiting to throw shit. Donald smiles. Heather wouldn’t throw shit. Her hands on his face, her brush on his lips. She loved doing his make up. Loved it. She must do it again. He must have her number. He looks out at the camera. Speak to the camera, they always said, speak to it and it will love you, though differently from Heather, with her blond hair, tresses they call them. Baby Doll has tresses. Donald smiles again. He thinks of Baby Doll. Oh. He looks up at the cameras. He says, Thank you very much. So, nice to be with you. I want to thank the American people for answering the call, following our guidelines, and making the sacrifices required to overcome this terrible threat. More aggressively we commit to social distancing — so important — social distancing — such an important phrase, and we do it right now. The more we are distant, the closer we are, you realize that, and eventually we get people back to work, back to school, aback to the homes and clubs and beds — back to normal. And there are large sections of our country — probably can go back much sooner than other sections. Palm Beach, areas of Florida, with its great governor, the normal parts of Jersey and places like that and we’re obviously looking at that also. Some parts are the normal parts, and they don’t have far to go back to anything when they go back to normal because they are still there. Donald stops. He thinks of Heather and her cool fingertips. He thinks of his lips and the warmth of his cheeks and the body. He thinks of back to normal. Normal, he thinks, normal. That’s what everybody wants. Normal. Normal. – Thursday, March 26, 2020