Twas the night before Inauguration and all through the House, every creature was stirring, including Trump’s spouse.
The Donald was tweeting, his thumbs all a flitter, the media replaced by the President’s Twitter.
The children were restless after missing a playdate, afraid their father might deport their classmate.
And Melania standing with her older groom, hired a decorator for the Lincoln bedroom.
When on every news channel there arose such a clatter, Trump sprang from the throne to see what was the matter.
Away to the rooftop he flew like a flash, ready to deliver a media tongue-lash.
The lamplight on the lawn of his new abode, cast shadows upon the protestors below.
When what to his sullen eyes should appear, but dozens of Dems smelling of fear.
With his favorite driver tight in one hand, he stood ready to make his 4-year stand.
More rapid than Occupy, his detractors they came, shouting pig and bigot and even meaner names.
“Now extremist! Now racist! Now, zealot and cryer! On, chauvinist! On, xenophobe! On, misogynist and liar!
To the gallows with you, against the wall. You’re not my President, not at all.”
As more and more protestors took to the road, their rhetoric grew louder and increasingly bold.
Reporters saw stories, in front of cameras they flew, with a handful of notes, and pundits, too.
And then in a twinkling, we saw on the tube, the prancing and pawing of angry Trump hooves.
As he drew his head toward the growing crowd, he took a deep breath to speak aloud.
He was dressed in Armani and surrounded by congress, every one of his crew a valued accomplice.
A bundle of promises he had flung on his back, and he looked like a peddler on the attack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! His hair, how scary! His smile reminiscent of an evil fairy!
His droll little mouth was open as usual, and his rhetoric sounded a bit delusional.
The constitution he held in the grip of one hand, “There’s no conflict of interest!” did he demand.
He squinted his eyes and made that Trump face, giving us memories we cannot erase.
He was loud and demanding as he stood in the Mall, tweeting, and barking—he was not jolly at all.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave them to know they had something to dread.
He spoke lots of words and went straight to his work, calling out the media as a bunch of big jerks.
And sticking a finger up into the air, he shot them the bird with that Trump-only flair.
His speech at an end, he boarded his new plane, and headed for Moscow, just north of Ukraine.
But we heard him exclaim, ‘ere he flew out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”
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Tiny little reindeer heads courtesy of Google, maker of Google Timelapse and Google Correlate, which revealed a direct correlation between the terms ‘beer’ and ‘reduce swelling’.
Unless otherwise noted, I drew or took the photographs in the article—as lame as they may look. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is probably planned. Copyright can be found here for my original work.