Trump woke to a sweet Florida night, with crickets chirping and alligators lurking. The trunk opened softly, revealing Michelle’s noncommittal face.
“Let’s start over, Donald.”
“A fresh start? I’d like that,” Trump said, lifting himself clumsily out of the car and dusting himself off. He gave Michelle an even glare.
“Careful,” Barack said, getting closer to the two.
“I can handle a feeble old man,” Michelle commented. “Unless he has a stun gun or something.”
“I was just sizing her up, that’s all. I respect how cool-headed she is in a conflict.” Trump handed her what looked like a small paperweight. “Here, I found this in the trunk. Thought you might find it useful.”
“Donald, don’t give my wife gifts.”
“No, it’s alright. I actually didn’t expect him to be a generous person. It’s a refreshing twist.”
“I am a generous person when the chips are down. When it matters.”
“You just woke up a couple of hours ago. Pace yourself,” Barack said, motioning for a Secret Service agent to come closer. The agent took the gift away.
“We’ll talk about this later, Barack,” Michelle whispered.
“I agree. Besides, we should get inside before the alligators come out. Arguments can wait till morning.
“Yeah. I’m tired. Sleep would be good.”
“You’ve been sleeping for one hundred years, Donald!” Barack said.
“I don’t know if I entered REM.”
The car was already parked in a shady motel parking lot. The trio walked into the building without a challenge. Barack jumped when the bushes rustled. But it was just a weird new mutation of the domesticated cat. It had the face of a cow but the fangs of a wolf.
“I thought it was an alligator,” Barack said.
“I actually prefer the alligators to those things.”
As they entered one of the rooms, more of the cow-faced cats scattered, and Barack jumped. Trump made a beeline for one of the soft-looking chairs in the corner. He was asleep within minutes, Michelle’s ranting about how the accommodations in Spain were better having lulled him to sleep.