President Trump was reportedly despondent over his failure to “hit the back row” during his paper towel toss to a gathered church crowd in hurricane ravaged Puerto Rico.
Trump shook his head in shameful defeat as loops of his paper towel tosses repeated on a TV screen. “I’m the President of the United States. If I can’t hit the back row how’s that look to the rest of the world? How am I supposed to inspire confidence with that?” the deceptively apparent grown man opined between bites of McDonald’s comfort food as Nas’s “Life’s a Bitch” played in the background.
“Trump doesn’t do anything unless it’s bigly,” He said as he glared daggers at his Chief of Staff John Kelly as food particle spittle sprayed on the Presidential Seal on the table.
“You don’t make the Sports Center highlight reel without back row hits!” the Commander in Chief of the most powerful military ever created in the history of humanity screeched as he slammed his soft hand on the table.
Grimacing in pain as he massaged his now injured hand Trump continued “And what was with that off brand paper towel they had out there? Trump tosses Brawny or nothing. And did we get any sponsorship money from Brawny? Nope. You know why? Tell ‘em Bannon,” Trump, the man with the authority to launch a nuclear strike without prior Congressional approval, said to John Kelly mistakenly referring to him as Steve Bannon, former White House Chief Strategist who was the only person sitting in on the conversation.
“Because Brawny only sponsors back row hitters,” said John Kelly in a hallow voice possessed by a man who now questioned if his decades of service to his nation were nothing but cruel vanity.
For twenty soul crushing minutes Trump went on a verbal tirade rationalizing his failure to deliver on his perceived paper towel tossing shortcomings. Everything from the thickness of the roll, to the grip of the packaging and the air density brought on by “all that water” were factored into Trump’s harangue.
Clutching multiple briefing packets, some months old, Kelly subtly tried to shift the conversation. “Yes Mr. President. And we’ll certainly look into that, but if we can discuss the relief efforts in-,”
“My wife was right there!” Trump said gesturing to an empty chair. “How can I be a man, if I can’t even hit the back row? Definitely won’t be able to hit Melania’s back row! Not after that effort.” said the man who received close to 63 million votes even after he expressed a fondness for grabbing women by the pussy.
Loosening his tie which draped to his knees Trump slumped in his chair and shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but… it’s my fault. I didn’t prepare for what needed to be done, and now here we are.”
For a moment John Kelly’s flicker hope blazed at the possibility of the POTUS experiencing a moment of self-realization, the arrival of a Zen satori like moment that could perhaps lead to a reaffirmation in his faith that all wasn’t indeed lost. “
Get that Lebron on the phone. I know we’ve had our differences but I gotta get a handle on this. I’ll get better. I will hit that back row!” Trump said with a misplaced affirmed determination as he stood up smearing his loose tie in a portion of the unused ketchup on his plate.
“Yes Mr. President but maybe we should focus on other things?,” suggested Kelly.
“Maybe you’re right Steve. Maybe I should go with a quarterback. You think that Kaepernick guy is available? You can tell him I don’t care if he takes a knee as long as he can help get this situation under control!” said the man who left an island full of American citizens, that was still without power, and in desperate need of support from the “most powerful nation on earth”.
“We’ll get right on it Mr. President,” said Kelly as he looked out the window at the navy blue ocean below and wondered what respite he find might in its embrace.