Trump’s Cat Plan
I heard that Trump is going after the cat vote. Kennedy told Vance that he had hurriedly gone to the beach when he heard that there was another whale that had washed up ashore. He took his chain saw, but when he got there, he found out it was really a CAT CONVENTION!!! He called Vance (because Trump wouldn’t answer the phone.) Vance flew out on the jet Trump had rented for him, but had to make an unscheduled landing in Atlantic City when it ran out of fuel because Trump had drained the credit card to pay his lawyers who were threatening to quit en masse and just let him go to jail anyway.
When the plane landed, the cats got word. They quickly texted RFK Jr., pretending to be an anti-vax Alien delegation from Planet Spook. All the real Space Aliens, who, of course, live on the Far Side of the Moon, egged them on. It was better than a Taylor Swift concert!
So here was Vance, trying to get laid under the boardwalk. The jet really was bone dry on jet fuel. Trump wouldn’t answer the phone, and Vance thought no one would recognize him, but all the cats who live in Atlantic City had new Apple watches disguised as flea collars! They quickly texted Taylor, who called her boyfriend, who said “What the hell?” and sprung for an Uber to drive Vance to Coney Island so he could attend the cat convention.
But when Vance got there, Kennedy had gotten bored and had left to drive home with a giant Nathan’s hot dog strapped to the roof of his car! Trump finally heard about the whole thing while eating a Big Mac and slurping a Diet Coke in the kitchen at Mar-a-Lago because Melania had told him she was busy.
No one had seen the pool boy all day, either.
Trump, though, thought what an opportunity! If I can just get all the cats to desert Taylor Swift and vote for me, I’ve got it made! I’ll get RFK to entice them with giant hot dogs and they can put on MAGA hats and Groucho Marx sunglasses and NO ONE will recognize them! He did consider it was one of his better ideas, but someone told Stormy about the whole scheme…
So on election day Trump had to board an old Nazi submarine and head to Argentina.
That’s not all, though. The cats and the Space Aliens had recorded Trump’s departure from the secret sub pen underneath, yep, that very same bathroom at Mar-a-Lago with the boxes of secret government documents, and now the whole fucking galaxy knows and is laughing their alien asses off.
Melania and the pool boy, though, are back in Slovenia, just trying to forget.
Vance returned to Appalachia, but was not welcomed. The cats had let everyone know he was coming.
RFK Jr. has ditched all the anti-vax nonsense and is now promoting giant hot dog condoms. Don’t even ask me what that one means.
I’m sworn to secrecy. The cats made me do it.
