Following the 2020 election, there has been scarce time for introspection as the GOP leadership in Washington, D.C. has been beside itself with grief trying to spin federal electoral losses. Donald Trump watches television in the Lincoln Bedroom with anticipation.
Chris Wallace of Fox News: “It appears as though Joe Biden is projected to be the 46th President of the United States, after over a week of careful counting in the last several states.”
The executive switches off the television set in his bedroom, frustrated, and goes to the bathroom.
“Do-nald, what do you want to do today? I wanted us to spend the day with Barron,” asks the First Lady.
“I’m meeting Mitch for lunch! I have to get ready, alright? Very busy day, we’ll spend time together later, okay?”
“Fine, fine,” Melania concedes. “This isn’t the end of the world, you know? We lived good life before White House. We can go back to that, now,” as she gets dressed.
“Thanks babe! I hear you. I’ll see you later!”
“Okay, okay. Be best!” Melania says as she leaves the bedroom.
“Good morning, Agent Steve. It’s good to see that you’ve recovered from the Corona. He’s in the bath,” Melania greets the Secret Service agent outside the room as she walks down the hallway.
Trump gets dressed, goes to his phone to surf Twitter. He notes many negative reactions to the election news, mentions of COVID and racial unrest with a grimace on his face.
He puts on his necktie and walks out of his bedroom door.
“Hey Stevie. You okay? Is Darryl still out with COVID?”
“I am fine, sir. And yes, Agent Darryl is still in quarantine, sir.”
“Okay, let’s go. Time for lunch.” Trump and the agent walk down the corridor.
They bump into Vice President Mike Pence.
“Hello Mike Pence!” shouts Trump.
Pence apologetically says “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Well, it’s not over yet.”
“I’m starting to feel much better after quarantine, sir,” Pence admits. “You look great, too, since you’ve had the disease.”
Trump interrupts, “Uh thanks, I have to go meet Mitch. Bye, Mike Pence.”
“Goodbye, sir.”
Trump meets with Senator Mitch McConnell in the Family Dining Room for lunch.
“So, I heard the news. Tough luck, Don.”
“Well, I’m not done, yet, I’m going to continue to fight it.”
“Good, good. We’ll keep a united front while you do.”
“I don’t even know how Biden got more votes,” Trump says confused. “This country needs me.”
McConnell explains: “Well, if I can be frank for a minute. People are scared to death of this COVID thing. It’s not going to just blow over like we first thought. You have a perfect storm with that, the unemployment, a rise in homelessness, and a sizeable amount of people accusing you of any number of things.”
Trump points to his Secret Service agent. “Stevie, come over here for a bit. You’re a blue collar guy, right? What do you think about this stuff?”
“Well, if I may, I think the senator is right. I have a brother who just lost his job and had to move into my house. My cousin just got off a ventilator. He told me that one of his close friends died of COVID and her husband and son might be homeless, since she was the breadwinner. Agent Darryl told me that his aunt died from it and that his brother’s own work hours have been cut to the point where he might not be able to stay in his apartment, anymore.”
“Alright, alright, enough already. I can’t stand it. What’s the play, Mitch?”
“Hey, our members are going to do everything on our part to try to pass a new relief bill since our elections are done. You just have to do more about this whole pandemic issue.”
“Gee, I appreciate the advice. Got a magic wand?”
“No. But you may want to get a broom.”
“For the pandemic or for these witch hunts?”
“Same difference, really,” Mitch says as he laughs.
“I think I’m done eating,” Trump says offended. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
The agent strolls with the president up to the Oval Office. He leaves Agent Steve at the door.
“This is such an unfair situation,” says Donald Trump to himself, as he sits behind the Resolute Desk. “I’ve done everything. I’m the best. I can’t possibly be a loser.”
The leader falls asleep with his head down and is awakened to the slamming of a book on the desk.
“Jesus Christ!” exclaims Trump.
“Donny boy…” says a mysterious figure.
“Dad?”
“Who else?”
“You’re a ghost. I don’t believe in ghosts. What is this?”
“I see you’re in trouble. I don’t know where I went wrong with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Boy, do you see this ledger I put on your desk? I was in the black for most of my career. I built a successful empire and handed it off to you. I taught you everything I knew. Are you trying to ruin the name I gave you?”
“Come again?”
“I did everything. My business success was my life. But you kids, I didn’t spend as much time with you, chasing money. Chasing power. And for what? Just to see you flush your life down the drain, trying to top me, ruining my good name in the process.”
“But Dad, I became president! You should be proud of me!”
“At what cost, son? The Trump name is being dragged through the mud. The country I was proud to be from is suffering. Your whole family caught whatever disease this is.”
“Not you, too. I know what I’m doing.”
“Obey your father. Don’t do it for me, do it for your own children, your wife. Keep whatever money you have left. Be comfortable. Nobody lives forever. I see you talking about pulling out all the stops just to keep the perch you think you have. Let it go, son. Pay attention to your family. Enjoy your years while you have them.”
“I do. I am. I spend a lot of time with them.”
“Always so stubborn. I guess you get that from me. Just heed my words. You will be visited by three other spirits to held guide you down the right path.”
POOF!
Trump raises his head from the desk, in a daze.
“Geez Louise. That was a crazy dream.”
Trump paces around his office, thinking. He decides to take a seat at his desk, again, looking out the window.
“I did everything I was supposed to do. I know I won. I don’t understand how this could happen to me. I’m only the president! Why does everyone blame me for what happened with this COVID thing?”
Out of thin air appears a pecan-colored, mustachioed figure with spectacles standing to the front of the desk, facing the executive. POOF!
“Hoax, hoax, hoax! Merry Covidmas!”
“Who are you supposed to be?” asked Trump, as he turns his seat around.
“I am the ghost of Covidmas past.”
“You look a lot like Herman Cain.”
“I am, you fool,” Cain says in disbelief, his Southern drawl prominent. “Remember you permanently distanced me six feet away?”
“Not according to the waiver I had you sign,” reminds Trump.
“Do you really think a piece of paper changes the truth?” Cain asks defiantly.
“Okay, okay. You got me. Why are you here?”
“I’m here to answer your inane question, 45. You see how you called this whole COVID thing a Democratic hoax at the beginning? People like me trusted you and didn’t wear masks, didn’t socially distance, didn’t quarantine in place, and went to rallies.”
“So?”
“SO, many of us got sick, died, or had people we know who did. You see, words matter, Donald. When you’re in such an important position of authority, you have to be more cautious about what you say. When I was a CEO, that’s something I always worried about. People who believe in you might be the ones who get hurt the most or lose faith in your ability to lead.”
“Oh, sorry. Never thought about it that way.”
“Chew on that, a while. My other buddies will be by soon.”
“Wait! What buddies?” asks a confused Trump.
POOF! The ghost fades into the ether.
“I wish I had better friends,” Trump mutters under his breath.
POOF! Re-appears Cain, “What was that, Donald?”
Trump deferred, “Oh nothing, didn’t say a word.”
“Mmm hmm,” Cain uttered and disappeared just as soon as he had re-appeared.
In comes another spectacled figure, stoically standing to the right of Trump’s chair, wearing a mask and grayish-white hair. POOF!
“Happy Holidays, sir,” declares the apparition sedately.
“Aw, geez. It’s Dr. Fauci. What do you want?”
“More precisely, I am the ghost of Covidmas present, Mr. Trump. It’s not about me. It’s about 300,000+ deaths and 15+ million cases involving the novel Coronavirus and its coined disease, COVID.”
“Yeah, what about it?” Trump asks impatiently.
“You undermined our efforts. You called us names. You confused people. This is where we are. You told people to ignore the CDC guidance and data. Now, despite all of that, there are vaccines, which are becoming available, but there was much hard work by scientists, worldwide, and at a record pace.”
“I get credit, right? I did have us order tens of millions of doses. I told the FDA guys to approve it or else. I did that!”
“Well, yes and no. You hampered our efforts. Threatening government officials at all levels puts the impression on people that we are rushed and not taking proper precautions to make safe treatments or has people believe we are disorganized. Other countries got ahead of us in the doses they purchased. Turkish Muslim immigrant scientists in Germany were responsible for discovery of the first vaccine, and you are on record as being against, Muslims, immigrants, and scientists, while also alienating our German allies. Our response to the pandemic has been so terrible, that almost all the world’s countries have closed their borders to Americans at one point or another, and may only allow travel with restrictions. The problem would not be as bad had you listened to the experts in this field.”
“Well, what can I do, now?”
“Be humble, sir. Give credit where it is due. Trust the science and the scientists. Encourage citizens, including your supporters, to: wear masks, wash hands, don’t touch their face, sanitize, distance, and stay home when possible.”
“No sale, Fauci. Aside from winning, freedom and the economy are the most important concerns I have.”
“Well to be honest, the economy is actually not great for everyone, but that’s not really my area of expertise.”
“Then butt out,” Trump says as he dismisses the ghostly doctor.
“Very well,” says the spirit with a sigh as he vanishes. POOF!
“Everyone else thinks they’re so much smarter than me. Second guessing. I’m Donald Trump. I won the 2016 election! I didn’t get to where I am today by overthinking everything. Who is he to question my instincts?”
POOF! A tall figure materializes, sitting on the corner of the Resolute Desk facing away from the executive, his hands gripped together over his bent knees.
“Joy to the world!”
Shocked, Trump exclaims “Joe Biden?! What the hell are you doing in my office?”
“Well, actually, this is my office, pal. I won the election.”
“Wait, what?”
“I’m the ghost of Covidmas future. You see, Donald, I hafta clean up the mess you made. Folks got fed up with you and voted me in. You rubbed a lot of people the wrong way,” explains Biden.
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s alright,” Biden says as he clears his throat. “I’m sort of used to cleaning up presidential messes. Remember ole George? You know, Dubya?”
Trump shrugs.
“Of course not, nobody does. People think he’s a statesman now. That’s just how good we were. Barack and I.”
“So, you’ll fix this, and everybody’ll forget about it?”
“Whoa, I didn’t say that. This has been a bunch of malarkey.”
“Okay, I get it.”
“You screwed the pooch.”
“Fine.”
“This is a gigantic mess.”
“Alright, already! You have any actual advice, the last two ghosts were kind of downers.”
“Just don’t make things worse by challenging the election.”
“Okay, deal.”
“No, I’m serious. Don’t do that. It’s going to be hard enough to get people to believe in what their government can do, again. The pandemic is one issue. The democracy has been tested because you told people to doubt everything, even our position, because of the sheer amount of falsehoods and mixed messages. We can’t also have people at each other’s throats because of different versions of reality you presented.”
“We’ll see.”
Almost immediately after his meeting the final ghost, Donald Trump posts “#StoptheSteal” on Twitter, sending his followers into a fury. Lawsuits and recounts would ensue. He threatens politicians of his own party to maintain his narrative of unfounded election fraud. His supporters deny the election results and start protests, leading to violence. Weeks later, courts have either rejected the lawsuits or ruled against him, the statewide recounts have confirmed Joe Biden’s victory, and the electoral college has selected Biden as expected. Senator McConnell meets with Trump again in the Oval Office.
“Donald, just let it go. You lost, Joe won. There are no other legal avenues to make you president again in 2021,” grimly stated McConnell.
“I’m not a loser, Mitch.”
“I think it’s time to face reality.”
At once, the three ghosts of Covidmas appear together only visible to Donald Trump. POOF!
“What the….?” gasped Trump.
“What?” McConnell asked, shocked, looking around, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I did. I do. Don’t you?”
“Are you okay?”
“Mitch, you can go.”
“Oookay.”
The ghost of Covidmas past speaks, “You didn’t listen to a damn thing we told ya, did ya?”
The ghost of Covidmas present adds “Sir, we tried to save you some embarrassment by pointing out just why people blamed you. You ignored it. Maybe adjust your behavior, so that you could save some face.”
The ghost of Covidmas future nods in agreement. “Man, I told ya not to make things worse. I said not to be a clown and you brought the circus to town. Are ya kidding me? You ever read Dickens?”
“No, I don’t have time to read books,” proclaims the persistent politician.
“Sure, but ya tweet, Donald,” Cain points out. “You could learn a thing or two about humility and not being greedy.”
“I’ll do things my own way. This isn’t a fairytale.”
Biden chimes in, “We’re trying to keep it from bein’ a damn tragedy.”
“C’mon, I think you all should leave,” prompted Trump.
“Well, since you haven’t learned anything, we may have to just continue to haunt you. We have a lot of company thanks to you. Shall we go get the others?” Fauci warned.
“Ah, no, I got the message. Thanks.”
