General Fiction posted March 23, 2025 Chapters:  ...22 23 -24- 25 


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I woke up this mornin' feelin' fine...
A chapter in the book No - Say It Ain't So!

NO! Say It Ain't So! Ch 32

by Wayne Fowler


In the last chapter Trump (Phil) made a baffoon of himself at Mar-a-Lago, convincing staff and members of his insanity.
    
Chapter Thirty-two
 Trump (Phil)
 
“Hello, Tom?”

“Yeah, it’s me. You okay?”

“As well as could be expected. How’s our friend? How’s he treating my body?”

Tom laughed. “’Fraid you’re gonna have to go on a diet and do some serious exercising, pal.”

“Arghhh. You’re killin’ me. And here, I have his body losing weight. I get cheated on both ends!”

Tom laughed. I’ve finished The Hobbit. He was really into it. I mean really!”

“Hah!” Phil spat. “That’s funny. ‘Cause I got him, well it’ll be delivered tomorrow, a Lord of the Rings ring!”

I described the clown I was making of Trump and Tom told me of the harrowing escape and Hakeem’s help. And all this time, I thought I had the lion’s share of difficulty. We agreed that tomorrow would be tough… for the both of us. Tom had to keep my body from being kidnapped or killed, and I had to continue the farce and façade a whole day. There were any of a thousand ways that I could be stumped and not behave, or not know someone that Trump knows, and mess things up.

Someone who knows someone who knows someone could put things together and cause real grief. It would not do to have Trump – me – picked up and grilled by a psychiatrist, especially one who knows Trump. I want to make him appear crazy, but not too crazy.

Tom and I agreed that tonight, I would stay awake until after three, letting Tom have a little rest. Tom would read to him only until he tired. He would wake my body at three.

Tuesday, I planned to fly back to DC, arriving just after the vote, or at least after it was too late to stop the Senate vote confirming the two judges. I wanted to witness the swearing-in by Chief Justice Roberts.

Tomorrow, Monday, I would sleep in, not leaving my rooms until afternoon. I managed to find a copy of Stephen King’s The Dark Half, a macabre story related closely enough to what Tom and I were experiencing to be interesting. I planned to read, with the Tv volume on high, until three and sleep only after the Trump, in my body, was awake.
 
+++
 
My phone rang. It was just after eleven Monday morning. I’d been awake a couple hours, but holding to my plan to make no appearance until afternoon. I finally acquiesced and answered the phone.

“Fine. Send him up… Wait. Give him a tour and send him up in fifteen minutes.”  It was the jeweler. He was quite prompt, probably hoping for the future sale of something nice for Paté, or Melania. I needed the fifteen minutes to spray my face and hair.

“Excellent,” I said, taking it from him before he could show me the inscriptions. I put it on and made a show – “Can you see me?” My question’s intent was that this would be another story making the news in coming days.

He looked confused, blinking hard. “Uh, yes, sir.” His confusion was blaring.

“Here, sir, uh, let me…”

It was all he could do to keep from grabbing my hand to pull the ring off. I could read the old guy’s mind, he was so anxious to show and tell the engraving. I finally took it off and looked at it: ϏɭϪ¥É…ЖÕ.

“Roughly, it reads: Ring of Mystery.” He beamed.

I nodded and frowned, guessing at Trump’s negotiating style. “How much?”

He began to stammer.

I gave him my felonious look.

“Mr. President, let this be our establishment’s gift, a token of our appreciation of a, hopefully, continuing relationship.”

    I smiled and snatched the ring from his fingers, quickly sliding it on my finger. I then offered him my most photogenic smile. “Would you like a photo with me?”

    How could he refuse? We went down and Jeremy clicked a photo with the jeweler’s phone. After the old codger left I instructed Jeremy to send him a check for $500. I knew the ring listed for about $300 without the engraving.

“Would you like to visit the dining room, Mr. President?” Jeremy looked like he’d rather avoid me, probably terrified that I would ask about our Disneyland.

“I don’t know, Jeremy, has the chef learned how to cook a Big Mac yet?”

He tried his best not to frown. His smile looked like a cross-section of a wavy potato chip.

I smiled. “How about a rib eye?” I asked.

“Your usual sides, sir?”

“No. Applesauce and pickled beets.”

All efforts toward a smile evaporated. “Yes sir. I’ll tell the chef.”

Jeremy did a pretty good impression of Flash Gordon.

I have to admit, the steak was fantastic. I saw an attendant give me a quizzical look – I figured I was eating the steak differently than Trump usually does, or it was the applesauce and pickled beets. Or the staff was waiting for one of the displays I’d put on the last couple days.

Wishing I’d had a baked potato, but not wanting to appear too normal, I finished the meal and put on the famous Trump slouch, slothing my way back to my rooms where I stayed until flight time Tuesday morning.
 
+++
 
Tom
 
With Hakeem’s nephew in the guard shack at the first safe house, I could get some sleep and take care of business. I gave the young man a tour of the place, without him being seen and told him to simply watch to make sure our visitor remained in the house, or backyard since he couldn’t get out. If the visitor got out, he was to call me and then stay in sight of him. He might walk the road, but not far. Should a vehicle arrive without me in it, he was to remain hidden from view, but to call me. He was not to engage with them under any circumstances, even if they forcibly removed our guest.

I would have been overjoyed if he resisted and chased off bad guys, but I would die if the young man was hurt.

One of the first orders of business was to get a friend to help me get my car back. Driving my truck, my friend let me out near my car which was still on the cul-de-sac street. There was yellow police tape surrounding the safe house and yard, but no police. Yay!

Just a quick shopping stop, then home to clean up, patch me up, and sleep – finally.
 
+++
 
I relieved Hakeem’s nephew that evening, thanking him for a job well done.

That night I only managed the first two chapters of The Fellowship of the Ring, the first of the trilogy of Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings.

Trump was saddened when Bilbo gave up the ring, but delighted to learn that Frodo not only inherited it but was deserving. And though he was 47 when he began his quest, he only looked 30. That point seemed to please Trump.

Right away Frodo is threatened by eerie Black Riders but is saved by elves. Trump trembled at the descriptions of the dark forest and the trees that don’t seem to like people. Deep in the heart of the Forest, the valley of the Withywindle was where Trump fell asleep.

I made a pot of coffee and waited for three o’clock before I felt comfortable enough to doze off. At three twenty-five, I heard a car door close. Ever so quietly, I stole from the living room couch to a corner behind the front door, kicking myself for leaving my shotgun in the car that I’d hidden behind the block fence around to the farthest point behind the backyard. I left it on purpose, thinking it a bad idea to have a shotgun where Trump, even if he was in Phil’s body, might get it.

I listened as two men approached the house, Schlape's men, no doubt looking for Phil. I heard them try the entry door to the garage and then attempt to lift the garage door itself. A moment later one of them tried the lock on the front door. One of them walked around the side of the house where the knotted rope hung, the one I couldn’t climb. A few minutes later I heard that one come back. I didn’t know whether he’d tried climbing it or not.

The two had never said a word the whole time. Eventually, they walked back to their car. Had either seen the shot-gunned hole in the picture window, they might have busted it out completely, gaining entry.

I was grateful that Phil did not snore, alerting the two to our presence.

As it was, I believe they left to report to their boss that the place was empty.
 

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photo from FanArtReview: FamousHouse!20 by nikman
The rune characters were really cool in Word.

Phil Jansen: woke up one day as Donald Trump
Donald Trump: woke up one day as Phil
Tom McQuin: White House butler
Betty Goodman: White House Chief of Staff
Dr. Schweitz: White House doctor
Hakeem Jeffries: as himself, House minority leader
Kirsten: Trump press secretary
Pate': 3rd daughter of the President
Robert Schlape: fixit man for Trump (using his real name, even here in FanStory, could be fatal)

Only 1 more post in this tale.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Artwork by nikman at FanArtReview.com

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