Ronald Dump stared at the oversized replica of his own head being airlifted off the Peach House grounds to the White House lawn, once and forever.
“What a moment. The biggest head in history,” he mused, his hair catching the gold glint of the sunset and becoming even more incredible.
“Sir,” said his Chief of Staff, Gussie Vile, “should we maybe tone it down for the Inauguration? Just to avoid... optics issues?”
Dump waved her off. “Don’t be silly, Gussie. The crowd is going to be uge. Bigger than my last one, and that one was the biggest—don’t check the numbers. Better, just ask Fox, they already have the correct number. Also, move the Air Force flyover up to the porn star salute. I’ve got Stormy on deck for the warm-up and finale.”
Gussie sighed. It was going to be a long season.
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