THE FLAG FILES, ep. 3: “Prism Planet”
In the middle of the night, no one can hear you tweet. That’s why it’s the best time for tweeting! Pre-dawn in the oval office, laying supine on your altar of a desk, in your boxers, riddled with Lay’s crumbs? Even better!
“Listen, flag — if you don’t cooperate, we’re gonna find a better one of… whatever-it-is you are, okay?” The Flag was on its last legs, pulpy and riddled with scabs, bits frayed at every edge. It looked like a weathered wheatpaste of its former self, after being tagteamed by depraved sheets of paper calling for a “WHORE WANTED” in tar-flecked pull tabs.
Donald Trump spat at it. It wasn’t the first time. In fact, he could sometimes bring himself to the threshold of soulless orgasm, simply by envisioning the decades of abuse he’d administer. “We gave you the best chances. Lots of chance. I hope you understand. Look. I have a big heart. It’s true!”
The glow of his Jitterbug was set to glaze. He was talking at the Flag, but hadn’t looked it in the eye in forever. The bionic Twitter fingers that Steve Bannon had lovingly installed were busy doing the American thing.
He waited for them to stop. He NEEDED to look at some more pictures of Ivanka’s tits. He sighed into his neck, eyelids akimbo, almost able to finally tune the Flag out completely.
“Mister president, please! You have a great big dick, you have the best dick, it’s true, my president, oh my god, I can’t take this any — “
“I wonder if we should make Sean Hannity commander-in-chief of the… what are they, army forces? What branch of the thing is it? Why am I asking you. I mean, he’s got the — “
“Sir, aren’t y — That’s a great idea!” The Flag reflexively brightened, as best it could. It wasn’t best to try and challenge Donald anymore. This wasn’t July, when it could actually luxuriate in a spin cycle once or twice a week. Everything HURT. Exploring some darker kinks was fun at first, but… was this abuse? What *was* abuse, anyway? The very idea seemed like some Norman Rockwell ideal…
“I know!” The president glowered. Outside, the river of lava and riot gear was starting to reach the North Lawn. Wait. Why was it visible? Had the White House shifted position again? Which day of the week was the one with the levitation? Those were his favorite days! “Everybody knows it.”