Front steps of the White House, President Trump is speaking.
“My fellow Americans, my hair and I are here to present to you, the American people, (and the American people are awesome, just like my hair) the turkey for today’s ceremony.”
Several Secret Service bodyguards bring out a turkey in a cage. The turkey shits itself; because that’s what turkeys do.
“As you know (and I know you know this because Americans are very, very smart) it’s a tradition that every Thanksgiving some hard-working farmer (especially one that voted for me, because that would be the hardest working of all the hard-working great smart American farmers who totally love me) presents the President with a turkey. I checked on Google and it’s not clear who started it; maybe Truman or maybe JFK or maybe some other whiny Democrat but who cares? (Well I’m sure someone cares but I don’t. Only a loser would care and I’m not a loser, I’m a winner.) Anyway, the president ‘pardons’ the turkey every Thanksgiving. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. People ask me ‘why pardon the turkey’ and I just say ‘I don’t know’.”
Trump pauses and beams. “Now you should all take pictures.”
The press surges forward. Cameras click, flashes go off, everyone smiles, except for Steven Colbert and Ann Coulter. Steven Colbert is inexplicably dressed in a bunny suit and Ann Coulter refuses to smile because it’s Wednesday.
In the background, a battered Rand Paul is quietly discussing something with Harry Reid. The wind shifts and Paul’s words are briefly heard over the microphone: “… I told him I’d have his money by Monday but the dude’s an animal, what kind of douchebag hits a man with a metal replica of the Millennium Falcon? I had to tell the press it was a ’landscaping dispute’. That’s better than your lame excuse about a Stairmaster but only a little. What really sucks is when the wombat and the pencil sharpener…”
An eerie silence falls over the crowd as everyone realizes what Paul and Reid are discussing. This is an open secret in DC that makes Harvey Weinstein look like a nun. Paul should know better that to let word pass beyond the beltway! The turkey cocks it’s head and listens too; things are getting interesting. Paul, who still has a conscience, turns beet red. Reid, who doesn’t, stands there calculating how he can blame this faux pas on the Russians.
When the silence grows too taut, Al Franken cracks. He shouts “I like boobies!”
Pandemonium erupts! Thirty percent of the press runs off to write a story about how sexual harassment makes puppies feel bad. The Drudge report decides to link to photos of topless women for the entirety of the holiday weekend; in the interest of an informed electorate of course. The publishers of Playboy angrily shout “That’s it! We’re going to print nothing but homeopathic tomato recipes from now on.” The ghost of Hugh Hefner doesn’t notice because he’s tearing through the afterlife like a weasel in heat but the nearest Wall Street investor thinks “magazines printed on paper still exist?” and makes a mental note to short sell anything associated with Playboy and throw a brick though the nearest Barnes and Noble window… if he can find one. Meanwhile the entire contingent of National Public Radio has formed a hive mind and outlined thirty identical stories about how Al Franken is misunderstood and only evil Republicans (which is a tautology) can be pervy.
Cokie Roberts, desperately trying to be a voice of reason in an ocean of weird, watches her NPR colleagues run for their car (a Prius of course) and mutters “I carpooled with those morons, how am I going to get home?” Joe Biden scampers up and whispers “I can give you a ride… in my van. You smell nice. Would you like some candy?” Even the ghost of Hugh Hefner winces but Cokie just kicks Biden in the kneecap.
Meanwhile Trump has emitted sixteen tweets all ending with #TurkeyBoob. He’s interrupted when someone from the Cato institute tries to ask a question about capital gains taxes. The questioner is promptly curbstomped by a Fox reporter who’s loving the #TurkeyBoob tweets. Everyone in the remaining audience agrees that was the best course. They know clickbait when they see it and #TurkeyBoob is a work of genius!
Scott Adams is already drafting an article that will be titled “The TurkeyBoob Persuasive Nuke”. It will earn him a richly deserved Nobel Prize in Literature. Adams’ acceptance speech will be the first Nobel speech delivered entirely in FORTRAN. It will impress the last forty people on earth who use FORTRAN. It will simultaneously infuriate thundering herds of unemployable professors with degrees like deconstructist anti-cisnormative conceptual literature who think they deserve the Nobel for a six-page pamphlet they wrote while stoned back in their undergrad days.
In the midst of the chaos, a squirrel runs by. With absolutely no exceptions it distracts every member of the press and every politician in the audience. SQUIRREL!
Only the Secret Service people keep their heads. They form a perimeter around Trump. The woodland creature only pauses a millisecond to steal some feed from the turkey’s bowl before it tears off. Al Franken and Joe Biden stumble off after the squirrel, followed by a stray dog and two staffers.
Jerry Brown, Governor of California and Chief Moonbeam of the Universe, is inspired by the situation to pen a bill. He calls it the Turkey Feed Anti-Theft Act of 2017. It requires the state of California to give free money to turkeys who’ve had their feed stolen, and subsidize green energy, and buy glittery ponies for everyone. John McCain helpfully assists by adding a federal budget line item that will provide free underpants for Estonian ballet dancers, but only if they’re black. Everyone thinks this is a great idea.
Stay tuned for part 2. Which will (uncharacteristically) arrive as fast as I can type.