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Ramona: The Nothingness of Donald Trump
He sighed softly to himself, he couldn't believe how horribly things have gone, just 8 months ago he was at the top of the world, he was sworn in as Speaker of the House and he had power. It made him weep, he wasn't just weeping for himself, he was weeping for America, he was weeping for all he had attained in this world and for everything that seemed to be sliding right through his finger tips. He felt things slipping away. He couldn't keep these recalcitrant freshman in line, they seemed to think they could crash the economy and come out looking like hero's! He knew better, but had no idea what he could do to get these folks in line.
He was looking down while walking back to the ranch and muttering about "that fucking Jim Jordan (R) Ohio, who the fuck does he think he is anyway?" He was whispering loudly to himself and didn't seem to care if anyone heard him. He was clearly angry and clearly he wanted some sort of revenge. He quickly grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket, he had that smokers habit of beating the end of the package against his hand before grabbing one and lighting up. He lit up and took a long hard first drag, as though he were sucking in all his problems and releasing them in several circles of smoke. He liked to play with his cigarette that way, it calmed him, until now. He simply didn't know what he would do to get these folks in line, clearly they were ready to crash the economy and seemed not to comprehend on any level the complexity of the crisis that faced the United States. "Do they even care if we are ever elected again?" He was now talking loudly to himself as he entered his favorite pub the 19th Hole.
"Hey John", yelled the bartender, he could clearly see the speaker needed a drink and he needed on badly. He was rushing to get the mans favorite drink ready, the Bellini, he was pretty sure tonight the man was going to need more than one.