A question of character

pearly9The orange man could see the high walls from a distance and he liked them.  “Great, really great,” he thought.  As he got closer he could see the road led to an iridescent pearly gate.  Just at the side, an old man with long silver hair and a flowing beard sat at a computer quaffing a beer.   “You must be Gandalf,” said the orange man as he strode up.  “Looks great.  Great wall. You must be expecting me.”

“Pete.  St. Pete,” said the old man, looking up over a pair of thick reading glasses.  He clicked on the computer several times, then met the gaze of the orange man.  “No,” he said, “There seems to be some kind of mistake.”

“Donald,” said the orange man.  “The Donald.  You’ve heard of me.  The Donald.  Great, really great.  Let’s make this short.  I’m busy.  Very busy.  Must be you didn’t hear about the coronary.”

“Oh, we heard about it,” said Pete.  “But there seems to be some question of ….”  Pete mulled it over a moment.  “A question of character.  Let me see here.”  Pete tapped a few times at the laptop.  “Here we go.  Yes, the election.  Says you stole it.  You and Vlad hacked emails, yes, and yes, what’s this?  Lock her up?”

“Yeah, that was great,” says The Donald.  “Thought of it myself.  Great.  Really great.  All losers down there.”

“Hmm.”  The old man looked  back at the computer.  “This here.  Global warming.  Very serious.”

“I made the rich richer, Pete, very rich.  You don’t know how rich.”

“Hmm…  The wall. The Muslim ban.  Shows women and babies starving.”

“Losers, rapists, terrorists.  Making America great again.  Say, you got women up here right?”

“Two girls for every boy.  Some people say it’s paradise.  But I’m pretty sure you’re at the wrong place.  It’s multi-national here.  Lots of Muslims.  Jews.  Blacks.  Gays.  It’s really a matter of your heart.”

“Ha,”  said The Donald.  “Good one.  You’re a real kidder.  Look.  I’m busy.  Very busy.  Got to meet my pal Roy.  Tell you what, we’ll have a party later.  Come on over.  We’ll have girls.  You can do anything, grab their…”

“I know,” says Pete,  “but no.  Roy’s down at the other place.  I hear he and Adolf are hitting it off, right-hand men to Nick himself.  You’re going to fit right in.  Give me a sec, I’ll send you on down.”

“What about the girls?” says The Donald.  “I hear they’re hot down there.”



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