My Interview with President Trump

America has officially been Great Again for 22 months, but if you ask President Trump, he’ll tell you he’s just getting started. The commander-in-chief announced the completion of his Mexican border wall this week, nearly six months ahead of schedule. The massive fence — dubbed the “Barriocade “ — is already being called a huge success, as at least two people have graffitied the word “rape” on the Mexican side of the wall instead of the U.S. side.

It was amidst this buzz that President Trump agreed to meet me for an interview.

On the appointed morning, I arrive at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, where I’m met by an aide named Brent. He immediately hands me a hard hat and apologizes for the construction that seems to be everywhere.

“We expected the White House condo project to be done by now but we’ve had a few hiccups,” Brent explains. “Mostly zoning law stuff, which we just rewrote, plus people were really touchy about bulldozing the Holocaust memorial.”

To be honest, I’m relieved to have the hard hat because I have brown hair and am worried that might be grounds for deportation.

“Ready to check out Trump Mansion?”

Brent smiles and begins weaving me toward a West Wing entrance. We’re met by a metal detector. I’m told that if I have any guns with me, I should place them in the bin, step through the detector, and pick them up on the other side.

I’m also informed that it’s fine to keep my hardhat on, thank god.

Once inside, Brent tells me that President Trump is finishing up a meeting with several members of his Cabinet — including the Secretary of Defense, Secretary of the Interior, Secretary of the Interior Design, Miss Universe, and Secretary of Non-Scripted Development.

“What do you say we visit the Roosevelt Room in the meantime?” he asks. “We converted it into a tapas bar- I’m sorry, a ‘small plates bar’ — that other word isn’t allowed anymore.”

We enter the restaurant and sit down in a booth across from a portrait of Teddy Roosevelt and a portrait of Donald Trump. Our waiter tells us his name is Jalil, then quickly assures us his parents were hippies, not Muslims.

Brent orders for me, and then excuses himself to go test some blow dryers. I take this opportunity to look over my notes.

Whether you agree with his policies or not, it’s undeniable that the sheer magnitude of what President Trump has accomplished in half a term is astonishing. There’s no more North Korea, many Planned Parenthood locations have been turned into luxury spas, and literature has been scrubbed of all mentions of the Egyptian goddess Isis. It’s true that since the passage of House Bill 267-L, more commonly known as the Anti-Vax Law, there have been an estimated 10,000 deaths from measles and smallpox, but there have also been zero reported deaths from autism.

Brent returns to the Roosevelt Room as I’m finishing up a lamb slider.

“President Trump is ready for you,” he says. “Also, you have a little aioli riiiight there.”

I spot-clean the aioli and follow Brent to the Oval Office. The decor is noticeably more modern than with previous presidencies, yet it’s still tasteful. The only exception being the life-size dartboard made from an unflattering photo of Rosie O’Donnell.

President Trump strides into the room and mimes a handshake before taking his seat. He smiles in my direction, which is to say, he only frowns halfway.

“So,” he says. “You’re a reporter,? All right, you’re almost attractive enough to look at. What do you want to talk about? The wetback wall? How we’re up to our necks in Iraqi oil — and guess what? — the earth hasn’t gotten any hotter, dipshits. Or maybe you’re interested in how we’ve replaced Common Core education with rote memorization of ‘The Art of the Deal?’”

President Trump pulls a dart from his top drawer and hits Rosie O’Donnell right in the eye.

“You’re not one of those crazy pro-choice chicks, are you?”

I take a deep breath. “I actually just wanted to talk to you about the state of America as you currently see it.”

Trump massages another dart between his fingers.

“America has never been better. It’s whiter, richer, and more at war than it has been in a century. Who could complain?”

“There are rumors that the U.S. trade war with China has escalated to an armed conflict. Would you like to address them?”

President Trump looks me over. “Do you know what a drone is?”

“Um, yes. I do-“

“-Nobody does. The American people? They have no idea what a drone is.”

“I’m not exactly sure that’s true-”

“Is it an airplane? A little invisible robot? Nobody knows and nobody cares. A drone is something expensive that makes people feel safe. That’s my model for running this country. Spend money, buy safety.”

“So, about China…?”

President Trump lets his dart fly. It’s a wild shot that barely grazes Rosie’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna give you a scoop. You ready?”

I open my notebook.

“I’m bringing back my catch phrase.”

I write that down in my notebook.

“You’re fired,” President Trump clears his throat. “No, let me try that again. You’re FIRED.”

I wait, but it’s clear the interview is over. I can’t help but wonder if this is about my hair.

“Brent, show this chick to the exit — the one through the gift shop. Then get your ass back in here. I feel like ruining a couple lives before dinner.”