Remember One Thousand and One Nights, that Arabic folk tale of the evil king who marries a new woman each day only to kill her the next morning? Then one woman marries the king and tells him exciting enthralling stories each night, stopping in the middle each time to stay alive for another day?
That’s my life. My name is Alma, and I have been telling stories to Donald Trump in a corner of the Oval Office for 648 nights and counting.
My stories are grand. I tell him tall tales, fantastical fictitious legends, of a widely-loved and internationally-respected leader of the United States named Donald Trump who is known for being intelligent, empathetic, and eloquent. I talk about the evil villains he fights and defeats, like the liberal media, non-white people, women with small tits, and Alec Baldwin. His favorite recurring character is Vladimir Putin taking a steamy bubble bath while eating imported beef jerky from middle-of-bumfuck-nowhere, USA.
Donald loves these stories. He recites them to the media all the time. No one else believes them, because they’re not stupid, but he’ll tell them again and again.
I am forced to embellish these lies to survive as he listens approvingly, every night, eating shrimp cocktail in his bathrobe. And each time, I end the story with “this was just the beginning of Donald Trump’s presidency… you won’t believe what he did next!” He begs for more, but I tell him it’s bedtime, you have a long day of golfing tomorrow, go drink some warm milk and off you go!
Thus, I live to see another day.