Trump Asks Putin If He Should Send James Comey an Edible Arrangement

WASHINGTON, D.C. — According to sources within the White House, President Donald J. Trump has reached out to his boss and asked for guidance in dealing with a very intense and stressful new development.

Witnesses inside the Oval Office claim Mr. Trump, watching cable news coverage of former FBI Director James Comey’s new book, became so agitated and unnerved he refused to even consider eating a bite of his third bucket of KFC or coloring in his coloring books until he dealt with the gnawing feeling in his gut. Trump fired Comey last year, opening up a lane for Special Counsel Robert Mueller to add an obstruction of justice investigation on top of the investigation he was already conducting into Russia’s interference in the 2016 presidential election, and any possible collusion with the Trump campaign.

Reportedly, as he watched the shows cover Comey’s book, “A Higher Loyalty,” in which Comey blasts the president as “unethical” and “untethered,” President Trump began to visibly panic, “shotgunning” 2-liter bottles of Diet Coke and snorting erectile dysfunction pills off his First Lady’s buttocks.

“Ahh, that’s much better. Thanks Ivanka,” Trump said, spanking his daughter’s bottom firmly but playfully. “Now Daddy can think with his bigger, orange-er head. Let’s see here…my personal lawyer just had a ton of papers seized by the FBI, and those papers certainly contain privileged attorney-client communications, and now James Comey, a guy I fired for totally transparently self-serving, cover-up purposes has a tell-all book out that pretty much confirms the pee pee tape is out there somewhere,” Trump said.

In the corner of the room, Press Secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders waved a finger, covered in nacho cheese and holding a biscuit smothered in sausage gravy, and cleared her throat. Huckabee Sanders told the president she believed most of what Mueller seized wouldn’t be admissible because it was communication between himself and his lawyer. Trump, sighed, and said he wished he could agree with Sanders.

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“Look, Sarah, ordinarily I listen to what you say and ignore the constant farting you do because your soul and body have to purge both the darkness and the food you eat to hide your feelings the darkness in your soul creates, but this time, I think you’re not seeing the big picture,” Trump said. “A warrant means a judge signed off, which means he or she thought there would be evidence of crimes committed. I gotta say, it feels pretty dire here.”

For several minutes, Trump scratched his chin, rubbed his belly, and tried in vain to eat some of the third bucket of KFC on the Resolute Desk. Forlorn, Trump arose from his seat and looked at a portrait he’d gotten from a good friend as an inauguration present. It was a picture of Trump’s favorite president, Jefferson Davis, and while he never did understand why it looked like his eyes were missing, only to be moving back and forth from time to time, especially during his morning intelligence briefings, he was certainly glad Russian President Vladimir Putin had the portrait installed in the Oval Office as such a beautiful gift.

“That’s it, I’ll call my boss, he’ll know what to do,” Trump said.

Trump snapped his fingers. He picked up the phone and pressed the first button on his speed-dial.

“Vlad, hey, it’s Donald. Donald TRUMP. No, not the one with Chronic Jizz Face, his dad,” Trump said. “Look, hey, I was wondering if you’d heard the news about Comey’s book? You have? Oh, good. Hey, I was wondering something, sir. Do you think now might be a good time to send him one of those Edible Arrangements you love sending? You know, the one with the boloney-um or whatever that poison is? Like you send to all those guys you don’t want spilling the beans on you? Like you told me and that one piss whore time about before the ’15 Miss Universe thingy? What do you mean, ‘PRANK CALL PRANK CALL!’, VLAD?! YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS, VLAD! WHY ARE YOU – SAYING  – VLAD! VLAD!”

The White House did not comment on this developing story.

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James Schlarmann
Comedian, writer, semi-amateur burrito wrangler and platypus aficionado, James cannot and will not be pigeonholed by anyone's expectations. Unless you want to pay him money, in which case his principles are as malleable as his "children" are "in need of food." Winner of absolutely zero lifetime achievement awards. You should definitely not give a shit about his opinions. James' satire is also found on: Alternative Facts, Alternative Science, The Political Garbage Chute, The Pastiche Post, Satirical Facts Hire James to create (very likely) funny content.

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