The Kellyanne Conway Files — Part 1

Monday, Dec. 12th, 2016

’Twas several nights before Christmas and something was amiss in Trump Tower. Kellyanne Conway frantically paced back and forth while Steve Bannon — an infamous stress eater, polished off yet another order of Five Guys while trolling liberal comment sections. CNN news coverage played on several television screens in the background.

Donald Trump, with his tie taped together, sat like a big boy at his very messy desk. “VROOOOOM, VROOOOOOM!” He was playing with a replica Volga V-12 coupe made of solid gold. It was just the latest in a string of gifts from the puppet master but the grown-up in the room sensed something was wrong.

“Kurt’s up to something, my contacts at Newsweek tell me he’s got something big coming,” said Kellyanne.

Bannon burped loudly, distracting Trump from his toy. It was an impressive display, even for Steve by Trump’s measure. Once Bannon was done blowing gas out his ass he spoke, “Now give me your phone, Donald.”

“BUT I WANNA TWEET! ONLY I DO THE BAD TWEETS! THIS IS MYYY PHONE!” Trump was on the verge of a total and complete meltdown. No one wanted that.

Fortunately, Conway’s nerves were fried. Despite her calm demeanor on television, spinning Trump’s latest blunder into something that resembled sense or strategy, she was anything but now. Behind closed doors, she was at loose ends. “You know what? NOT now Donald! Go sit over there and let the grown-ups fix this.”

Donald slouched across his office and slumped down in a gold chair overlooking Fifth Avenue. He imagined this was probably how Barron felt most of the time. Donald could only imagine because like a true narcissist, he was actually incapable of empathy.

It was a real family affair that evening. As Eric and Donald Jr. played with light sabers running through the office, leaving Russian contracts and memos strewn about in their wake, Kellyanne felt herself losing it. How had the entire weight of the Free World come to rest on her shoulders? She hadn’t seen this coming. Make a few bucks, close out a campaign with a shred of dignity and somehow prevent Trump from ruining all of their futures? Sure. Actually winning? She still couldn’t believe it had come to pass and now it was all falling down around her.

“Steve, we’ve got to get ahead of this. Whatever Kurt’s up to, it can’t be good. Look, we all know Donald’s conflicts are a problem. He literally can’t be President if…”

Just then, Eric knocked over a tower of stale Trump branded water, interrupting Conway’s train of thought. “You know what? GET THE FUCK OUT. You’re not even supposed to be in here! Do any of you understand the concept of a BLIND trust? This isn’t how it works. GET THE FUCK OUT.”

“Bitch,” Donald Jr. muttered under his breath as he and Eric walked out. “What was that?” Kellyanne spat back, she was in no mood this evening. Eric was the simple child and as such he didn’t talk back but Don Junior was his father’s son, and couldn’t let things go.

It was late. Kellyanne hadn’t seen her children in days which felt like weeks. Since Donald paid her, he didn’t count. The conflicts of interest were becoming a nuisance. They’d already scheduled a press conference to address them but now Eichenwald was at it again. They’d been forced to cancel that engagement via Twitter as well in order to get their story straight; but no one could sit still long enough to hammer out the logistics of what that story should even be.

It would be easier if Trump wasn’t so transparent about wanting his kids to run the country. Ivanka had already sat in on several meetings and calls with foreign leaders — with journalists present no less. Trump was adamant about Melania remaining in New York City while making plans for Ivanka and Jared to share the office of the First Lady in D.C. He too had conveyed these thoughts to members of the press. Meanwhile, poor Mike Pence couldn’t get a word in edgewise. He was permanently banished to a non-stop series of intelligence briefings.

Kellyanne thought to herself, “All Donald cares about is crowds of adoring people chanting his name or ‘Lock her up,’ which ironically, he wasn’t even going to do anymore. Hillary really owes me for that and she probably doesn’t even know it.” The crowds hadn’t realized though. Nor had they noticed as Donald rather loudly filled the swamp he’d promised to drain with career Republicans and billionaires. It crystallized for Kellyanne just then. She finally realized, far too late, that Donald had no interest in Making America Great Again let alone running the country but was only concerned about further enriching himself and those around him. Now, suddenly it was her problem to deal with.

“Do the breathing thing Kellyanne, just do the breathing thing. Think about the Hamptons.” She attempted to practice mindful breathing but found herself physically incapable. The stress was too great to concentrate at that moment.

Whenever dust ups like Trump’s obviously racist or inappropriate cabinet appointments surfaced, they dispensed their new strategy: Say or do something horrific on Twitter to incite outrage and force a media coverage pivot. It was the perfect remedy for throwing the mainstream media off the scent of whatever was likely to cause the most outrage. Most of the other journalists had fallen for these digital distractions but not all of them. Not Kurt Eichenwald, he never bit, he always kept his eye on the prize. “He’ll probably win a Pulitzer for that,” Kellyanne thought to herself as she walked towards Bannon.

“Fix it, now!” Conway snarled, handing the prized Android over to the former head of a white supremacist “news site.” Bannon wiped burger grease on his ill-fitting Brooks Brothers sport coat and began comprising a series of tweets. The sport coat was a new touch, Kellyanne was attempting to break him in though she now feared it wouldn’t matter much in the end. Between Reince’s plan to end White House press briefings and Trump’s blatant disregard for intelligence briefings altogether, the new administration didn’t seem to care much for tradition. She played with her split ends and pictured Bannon roaming the halls of the White House in cargo shorts and Crocs as he tapped away on Trump’s phone.

“I said ‘term(s)’ I bet the left-fucks will get a real rise out of that!” Bannon laughed to himself, lifted his right leg and farted once more before turning his attention back to a 4chan message board.

Kellyanne exhaled loudly and dropped her head to compose herself for what seemed like the millionth time that day. How had she wound up here? Why? She realized now that money was indeed evil and that she hadn’t just made a deal with the Devil but with the Russians as well which was somehow worse. She hadn’t signed up for this, with the puppet master now demanding the appointment of Rex Tillerson to Secretary of State, she sensed things were about to get a lot more hairy.

Just when it seemed like things had finally settled down for evening, Ivanka burst into the office shouting, “BUT DADDY YOU SAID IIIIII COULD BE FIRST LADY!!”

“Not this again,” she thought, Kellyanne knew it was now or never. She didn’t bother excusing herself and instead quietly collected her coat and purse before fleeing Trump Tower a few minutes before midnight.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and with it, a new scandal to face.