Christmas is nice but also naughty as Pat McLeod shows in this story.

A Trumponian Christmas

by Pat McLeod

"Gentlemen, we have a problem." Donald stood at the head of the cabinet table. Everyone else sat so he could look down on them. "It's a big problem. Huge problem." He spread his arms. "A problem that could affect the whole country and the Fake News media is propagating the problem." He grimaced at the assorted toady's gathered round each eager to pounce on the problem to win a 'Great Guy' accolade.

"Anything Justice can do, sir," wagged AG Whitaker, "we'll arrest and hold indefinitely."

"I may hold you to that.." Trump looked blank, finger at mid point.
After an uncomfortable few seconds. "Matt." Still blank.

"Whitaker, Attorney General."

"Right." Trump finished pointing. "Good answer."

"Dad," Ivanka looked up from sending an email, "what's the problem?"


Don leaned on the table, lips pursed, looked down each side of the table.
"Christmas."
There was a collective inhale.


"I like Christmas," clapped Don Jr. His Game Boy blinked off. He clapped again to turn it on.

The Donald ignored him. "Everyone loves me," he spread his arms, "we know that and that's what is holding this country together. Me. But this Santa Claus guy, he's bad news. He gives Fake Joy. Toys and stuff.Doesn't make America great. I make America great. I bet he's a democrat. Trying to turn people against me with good cheer and giving. It's weak. America doesn't need weak. America needs strong. America needs me. Without Fake Joy distractions."

"I like Santa," said Eric snatching away Don Jr's GameBoy.

"Hey! Give it back." Don Jr and Eric did a momentary Two Stooges slap and pinch until John Kelly cuffed them both in the back of the head.

"Thanks Chief," smirked Trump. "So...we get rid of Claus and Christmas follows." 

"Sir?" one of the seated billionaires raised a hand.
 

Donald pointed.

"Mnuchin, Treasury. Sir, Christmas is good for business. People spend more, charge more than they can afford, alcohol and gun sales soar."

"Breath easy Muncher." Trump smiled. "I always have a plan. We'll still have presents, excess, the odd shooting to distract people, but instead of Claus and Christmas we'll have me and Trumpmas." He spread his arms wide and smugged.

"Great idea.."

"Love it...

Ivanka grabbed Jared by the tie. "If this happens hire a Santa for the kids."

Kushner whispered back. "Iv, this is insane."

"Of course it is," she hushed. "The Christian Right will persecute him, he'll get turfed and I'll be President."

"Um..it doesn't work that way, dear."

Ivanka glared. "Did I ask you to speak?"

"Okay," said the newly self-declared Son of God, "all your departments drop everything and everyone focuses on getting rid of all things Claus and Christmas and replace them with cards, decorations, department store Donalds. We've got warehouses of the stuff I had made in China before the tariffs."

"Sir," it was Haspel from the CIA, "I'll have armed drones blanketing the Arctic. Claus makes one move and he's blood splatter."

"Canada and possibly Russia may have issues with armed aircraft over their territory." Pompeo, State.

"Don't worry about them," declared Trump a hydraulic pedestal in the floor slowly began raising him towards the ceiling. "I'll pussy tweak Justin and tell him what is what. And Vlady will probably want in on the bombing.

“Have a Glorious Trumpmas."

The North Pole Lounge was hopping on a Tuesday afternoon. Three weeks to the Day and Santa had declared an afternoon off so no one got burned out on the final push. The Glorious Sons were rocking the stage. Penguins, Gentoos and Crosby, were putting on a show on the anti-gravity dance floor. Conor McGregor was back in his Leprechaun suit, tending bar and arguing with Bruce Willis, who was also a Leprechaun. Blitzen sat in a corner wearing a 'Thank God I'm Canadian' t-shirt, a hummingbird as his hovering roach clip.

Santa, in a Komodo Dragon Speedo, raised a shot glass. "I believe this was a good idea." Merry, a blue pixie, Shzzp and Slrrt all tinkled glasses.

“Yes, Dear,” said Merry. “Occasionally, you have one.” She was in a low cut, high hem Tinkerbell outfit with wings that fluttered occasionally to maintain her equilibrium as the tequila did it’s work.

Santa looked across the table, which was just a hovering table cloth with a crystal ball on it, at the two elves. “So, you two going to get a room or what?”

“Ah..what...”stammered Shzzp.

Santa nodded at the centerpiece. “That’s a crystal ball. I can see you two diddling each other under the table.” Slrrt’s usual green skin flipped bright red.

“HO HO HO!” roared Santa body jiggling. “Quite the poker face, Slrrt.”

Naughty List Enforcer Gaga strode over in egret feather thigh high boots, a sliced baloney skirt and Black Forest Ham bra. A lawn elf-sized elf staggered behind her carrying a sixty inch Samsung.

“Hi, Stephani,” said Merry, wings burring. “Nice outfit. Kohl’s?”

“IGA. We have a situation."

Santa immediately sobered. "What’s up?”

“Toby,” Gaga snapped her fingers at a giraffe who stepped over and lifted the screen from the elf and held it high. “Snkk.” The little elf scurried up onto the tablecloth punching buttons on a minute laptop. The screen lit up showing a boardroom from an angle below the tabletop. Trump was spouting.

“This the Whitehouse?” asked Santa.

“Yes.” Gaga said. 

“How you getting it?"

 "We have a mole.”

“Who’s the mole?”


“A mole. He’s hiding in a plant.”


“The mole is a mole?”


“Actually the camera is shaped like a mole on the face of the mole.”


“So the mole is a mole on a mole.”


“Correct.” The camera angle changed and was now looking down on the President.

Santa looked at Gaga, brow arched.

“Fly on the wall,” she said.

“WHAT!”Merry’s hair turned bright red, her wings blurred flying her to the screen. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!!” She punched Trump.

“MER!” roared Santa. He grabbed one leg, Clyde the Orangutan grabbed the other. Merry twisted, red eyes glaring down at them.

“That narcissistic piece of shit is trying to replace Christmas with himself!” she growled.

“Merry, calm down,” soothed Santa. “We’ve dealt with these people before.” McGregor and Willis ran up.

“Say the word Sants,” nostril flared McGregor, “and I’ll shove me pointy boot up his arse.”

“And I’ll shove my fist down his throat and pull Conor’s boot out,” added Willis. “And for the record, I’m a Republican.”

A crowd formed around the cracked screen hissing disapproval until a seagull dive bombed and dropped a steamer on Mr. President and cheers went up.

"Santa," Gaga smacked a wolverine that was trying to shorten her skirt, "let me kill him."

"Steph, we don't do that." Behind Santa, Merry growled amid Clyde's embrace.
"Extreme circumstances."

"OKAY," Claus grew in size and volume. "EVERYONE CALM THE FUCK DOWN!" The room quieted. "Nobody is killing, maiming or beating up anyone!" Gaga and Merry glared back. "Okay, maybe a little," he pointed a peace sign at them, "but no permanent scarring." That calmed the bloodlust. "Snkk, get the reindeer up and find those drones. Slrrt alert all our US associates to double up on the Christmas spirit to counteract this Trumpmas bullshit. Shzzp get the sleigh prepped. We're going to Washington."

"Sants..."


"Yes Shzzp."


"Maybe ditch the Speedo." "HO HO HO...JINGLE BALLS."

"Donald you can't get rid of Christmas."

"Already in progress, Melania. Couldn't stop it if I wanted to."

She grabbed his arm. "All you have to do is say stop."


"Yeah, you're right. But I'm not going to."

"Donald," she stopped him. They were in the hallway near the Lincoln bedroom. Two Secret Service agents pretended to look at the floor. "Children love Santa Claus. He makes them happy. Makes them smile."

"Smiling is overrated, Melania. You never smile. In fact in the last two years the only time I've seen you smile is when that twerp Justin is in the room." He raised an eyebrow. "Why is that, Melania?"

"You are an ass."

"Whatever." He held up a McDonald's bag. "I'm going to the office to tweet the country a Glorious Trumpmas." He marched away.

Melania turned to the Secret Service men.

"Would you please shoot him."

"Can't do that ma'am."


"Can you lend me a gun?"


"No ma'am."

"Would you take a bullet for him?"

"Not a chance in hell, ma'am."

She nodded to the agent on the left. "You. My room." She began to follow the agent through the door then stopped and turned to the other one. "You too. Let's go." The agent crossed the hall loosening his tie. Melania licked her lips.

Donald entered the Oval Office taking a bite out of his Big Mac while his right thumb tweeted. He kicked the door shut and ...

"Who the hell are you!"

Gaga sat at his desk in a shimmering black trench coat and fedora. Her feet, clad in arrow sharp stilettos stretched out and clacked onto the desktop. A black mamba, tongue flicking, slid out the collar of her coat and slowly slinked down her legs, beady eyes fixed on the President.

"GUARD!!"


"Yell all you want, Donny," Gaga's voice seethed with disgust. "No one is listening."

Something nudged Trump's hand. He looked down as a cougar gently took the Big Mac from his hand, lay down and started eating. The front of his pants darkened.

"Oops," grinned Gags.

"Don." A voice from behind.

Trump spun. Jaw dropped. Seated was a bearded guy in a red, fur-lined business suit. Beside him Merry and a tall dude with pointy ears.

"We need to talk Don," said bearded dude.

"Is this some kind of joke. How'd you get in here?" Snorted Don, regaining some composure.

"Claus." Santa rose offering a hand. "Santa Claus." He reached out and took Trump's unoffered hand. "I can pretty much go anywhere. Hmmm. Small hands."

Trump snatched his hand back. "Doesn't mean anything. I'm huge everywhere else. Gargantuan." He looked at Slrrt, "You want to see." Then to Merry. "You?" Merry blazed.

"Whoa, Donny." Santa placed a hand on Trump's chest. "You might not want to be poking that one with a stick."

Trump sneered and slapped the hand away. "I'm the President. I'm Donald Trump. Most powerful man on the planet. Nobody tells me what to do."

"Clyde."

Clyde released Merry who flew across the room, grabbed Trump and slammed him down on the desk. Gaga's needle sharp heel slowly began pressing against his jewels. 

Merry hissed down at him."You are going to cancel this Trumpmas bullshit right now or she is going to skewer your balls one at a time and feed them to Heather here." The cougar looked up licking her lips.

"I can do that..."

Slrrt dialed and handed him the phone.

"John...ah.. cancel the whole Trumpmas thing...I've...ah...changed my mind."

"Good idea, sir. Wasn't really catching on. A couple of department store Trumps have been beat up and people are burning anything with your picture on it."

"Yeah...Okay.." Gaga pushed a bit harder. Trump's eyes widened. She cocked her head. "Oh...and Merry Christmas, John." His eyes widened further as Merry continued to push down.

"If one child is disappointed this Christmas because of you I will peel your skin like a mandarin orange."

"Clyde."

Clyde peeled Merry off Trump. Heather licked his face and helped him to his feet.

"HO HO HO," boomed Santa. "Doesn't that feel better, Donny?"

Donny sneered.

"You can spin this, Donny," said Santa. "Tell the people that you gave them Christmas back. They'll love you."

Don pondered. "I have haven't I?" He puffed up. "I gave Christmas back to America. It'll be glorious."

Santa slapped him on the back. "That's the Christmas spirit, but just in case, I'm going to leave Michelle here at the White House to keep an eye on things."

"Who's Michelle?"

Gaga came around the desk and faced Trump.

"You're Michelle?" he ogled.

The black mamba oozed out from beneath her platinum hair, stretched out and tickled his nose with her tongue.

"That's Michelle," said Santa.


Trump stiffened as Michelle slithered across his shoulders and coiled down his body to the floor.

"Careful," hushed Gaga flicking his chin with a red nail. "She has a temper."
The whole entourage gathered by the fireplace. MERRY CHRISTMAS, DONNY.

They were gone
.Trump looked down at Michelle, who hissed and slithered away.

"MELANIA!" he yelled, ran out of the room, past two Secret Service agents and burst in the Lincoln bedroom. His wife was stretched out naked on the bed. "Melania you won't believe what happened...Melania...you..." He cocked his head. "Melania, you're smiling."