WASHINGTON, D.C. — Anonymous sources within the White House are telling various media outlets that President Trump is an especially “grumpy and sour mood,” as one source put it. The impetus of his growing discontent? He hasn’t grabbed any women by their genitals since being sworn into office.
“You know I haven’t grabbed a single puss since all this president bullshit started,” Trump reportedly asked his Chief of Staff Reince Priebus, “not a single one. And all this talk of Sexual Assault Awareness Month is making me super-duper horny. Usually Ivanka helps me when I hit dry periods, but she’s been too busy hocking her cheap shit and pretending to care about Syrian children to help me in that way.”
Mr. Trump reportedly told Priebus he only “took the job” because he was assured his wife would get to stay in New York and he’d be “free to grab puss from sea to shining sea.”
“JFK got to fuck Marilyn Monroe,” Trump apparently told Priebus, “and Nixon got to fuck that gym sock of his he loved so much that he nicknamed ‘Richard Nixon’ so he could always feel like he was fucking the one person he loved in this world. Well, Reince, it’s my turn. I want to grab some puss, and I want to grab some puss right now.”
Mr. Priebus tried to placate his boss by offering up his own “man puss” to be grabbed.
“Hey, Mr. President,” Priebus apparently tried to cajole Trump, “I’m Reince Priebus, Chief of Staff, grab my man puss. C’mon, will ya? Just grab this man puss.”
Priebus bent over the desk in the Oval Office.
“C’mon, Reince Priebus, Chief of Staff,” Priebus repeated, “I’m begging you, I’m commanding you, grab this man puss.”
Mr. Trump demurred.
“Sorry Reince,” the president told Mr. Priebus, “but I need it to be a female vagina. Trust me, Steve and I already tried the man puss route. It felt good for a minute or two, but there’s just really no replacement for the look on a woman’s face when you grab her squarely in the gooch, know what I mean?”
“No, I, um, don’t know what you mean, Mr. President,” Priebus said, nervously, adding, “but you know, you’re my boss, I guess. I helped you get into this place, I guess I owe it to you to pretend as if you’re a sane, rational human and not an orange burlap sack full of diarrhea and Breitbart headlines, sir.”
Throughout the afternoon, White House staff and top level advisers tried to buoy the president’s mood. However, it became apparent after several hours that literally nothing but grabbing a woman by her genitals would help lift Trump’s spirits. Suddenly, Steve Bannon burst into the room with an idea.
“Don, Don,” Bannon shouted, “let’s just call our, you know, friend, in Moscow. Let’s have him set up a real whiz-bang party, if you know what I mean.”
Trump touched his nose, as if he understood.
“No, I don’t know what you mean, Steve. What do you mean, Steve,” Trump asked him.
Bannon walked over, and whispered something into Trump’s ear.
“Perfect, Steve,” Trump said, pushing the button for the intercom on his desk phone, “Susan, can you have my special floaties brought to the Oval Office please? And have Air Force One revved up for a Moscow run. I’ve got an inkling for a tinkling!”
This is a developing story.