Page 46 - The Woven Tale Press VOl. IV #4

The Morning After
The last thing I heard before I went to bed the night of Super Tuesday was Hillary Clinton on the television warning Democrats: “A vote for Bernie is a vote for Trump. If you go to bed with Bernie you are going to wake up with Trump.”
How did this happen? I vaguely remember the last night’s caucus, the cafeteria of the local high school filled with tables and old ladies yelling out precinct numbers, bewildered people meeting their neighbors for the first time, the Bernies at one end of the table, the Hillarys at the other...
Which I assumed to be a metaphor, of course.
Over breakfast Donald Trump read the paper, drank his coffee with three lumps of sugar and half a cup of cream, ate a bear claw. After breakfast Donald Trump wanted to take me to the amusement park. I could tell he was trying to be romantic, even though he was still wearing a suit and tie and we were followed by a cam- era crew. You’re beautiful he said. Isn’t she beautiful he asked one of the bodyguards. Buy her an ice cream or something. Do you like ice cream? he asked, not wait- ing for the answer. Get her a banana split with an extra banana—do they still have those? he said, dragging me to the Wild Chipmunk roller coaster. Here, you like roller coasters, right? She’s beautiful, take her picture.
I was not prepared for Donald Trump’s warm, slightly reddened body laying next to me when I woke up this morning. He was making some sort of half wheeze, half snore, and his hair was lying on my extra pillow like an errant wave haphazardly crashed upon the wrong sea.
I looked around for my clothes (oh thank god, they are on) and started to creep out quietly from the far side of the bed when Donald Trump, awakened by the movement, rolled over and caught the waistband of my pajamas playfully. Come back here he said, engulf- ing me in a sweaty, overly warm spooning embrace, his morning breath on the back of my neck.
The camera crew took my picture and I’m hoping no one recognized me. Donald Trump’s was talking to the ticket taker at the merry-go-round—what do you
Apparently I’m now dating Donald Trump. 37
nAncy stoHlmAn