Chapter 22
Messy Mop Up
Irving “Bubba” Wallace always called John Carpenter Captain. When he heard the word surrender, he sidled up to Carpenter and said in a low voice. “Captain, before we surrender let’s have one last convocation.” The others heard him though, and started to chant, “convocation, convocation.”
Carpenter got a big smile on his face and said, “OK, convocation.” He sent two guys out to find any food left at the golf club house and the pool house which did yield up a few snacks and plenty of beer and alcohol. A few stealth missions had been able to add supplies to these more remote locations. These were not wine guys so they left the wine for the Trumps. He sent two other guys to break up furniture and anything that would make a good bonfire. These men knew how to build a good big fire.
It was getting towards dusk so they laid the fire and lit ‘er up. Things started slow but there was a ritual to these occasions that involved repeating Oath Keeper oaths, toasting each other as the best band of brothers ever, and as everyone became more drunken, singing any old country song they could remember. They toasted their wives, their girlfriends, or both if they had them. They toasted their hound dogs and their horses if they owned any. The scouts had scooped up some cigars from the golf club so they lit them up and passed them around.
In the main house everyone nervously watched what those Oath Keepers were up to, but then Trump, who loved a good party decided he wanted to thank these guys personally and could not be dissuaded. So, his oldest friends decided to go with him. The Oath Keepers did not see them coming, but they halted their ceremonies to greet their one-time hero Trump and their loyalties kicked in once again. The two groups met and joined with guy hugs and hand shakes. Drinks were offered and one of the men asked, “Who did that to your head President Trump? Does it hurt? Was it a torture?”
“Nope boys,” said Trump, “the docs saved my life. I came to offer you my thanks for showing up and helping in my rescue. I believe that I will be rescued, but I know you are worried about what will happen to you. I wish I could control that but I appear to be a prisoner here. Can’t help you, can’t even feed you, but I will always remember you.”
While everyone was distracted and because no sentries had been placed, and there was no moon above, two army guys managed to push the carts of food out by the pool house. Chili was in the big pot and pulled pork in the smaller pot along with buns and cole slaw. There were even brownies for dessert.
John Carpenter approached Trump and his friends, Roger, and Paul. “President Trump,” he said, “I’m the Captain of this crew and I’m proud to meet you. I guess we never could have really rescued you, but we tried. I can smell food so I invite you to join us. Someone offer these guys a drink.”
Carpenter sent two men out again to find the food and haul it over to the bonfire. Then it was a drunken midnight picnic, without the beach. Oath Keepers told Trump stories of their exploits which were hardly admirable, but they had chosen the perfect audience to eat up those tales of terror and rough ‘justice’.
It wasn’t long before the tranquillizers kicked in and the men started to nod off. Trump and his cronies fell asleep right along with the rest. Around 3 am the gurneys came out, Oath Keepers were hog tied and the exodus went off without a hitch. The soldiers just left President Trump, Mr. Stone, and Mr. Manafort to sleep off the alcohol and the drugs. Trump’s boys came looking for their father a bit after 5 am and tried to shake them awake. Donald woke up first; he had grown used to meds and it took more to keep him out. They found some unburned office chairs, woke Roger and Paul enough to get them in a chair and wheeled them back to the main house.
“What about the food,” Eric asked. “It smelled good.”
“Don’t touch it,” Eric’s Dad said, “I believe it’s full of sedatives.”
“Where are all the militia guys,” Don Jr wanted to know, but no one had seen what happened to them. “I hope we’re not next he said.”
“That depends on where they’re going, said Donald, with longing. “If they are headed to the USA I wouldn’t mind.”
“They’re not going to just turn those guys loose back in America, said Don Jr. “Poor ducks, we just should have left them to the tree-huggers. Live and learn.”
Little did they all know that this was their last day in the compound. The announcement came that evening when they were directed to a meal that had been left at the front door. “We know you are running low on food,” said the tinny announcer, and we don’t want you to go hungry on your trip. Get all your gear out to the helipad by noon tomorrow. A chinook will be arriving to take you to your next destination. We don’t know where you’re headed next, so don’t think that we are holding out on any top secret information. We wish you well in whatever your new destination brings. Don’t worry about the mess. We’ll take care of it. Bye, now.
So after breakfast the next morning, the bottom echelon turned into willing servants one more time and helped the Trump boys and Kushner move everything out to the helipad. It had not rained since the Trumps arrived and it didn’t look like it would start today since the sky was bright and the sun hot. Of course the Trumps had the biggest piles of stuff but no one would think of asking Donald, Melania, or Ivanka to perform any physical labor. Everyone agreed to pack a small bag of essentials that they might need right away.
Should they be excited or nervous? Donald did not assume the worst for a single minute. Today he wore his white “George Washington” wig under his MAGA hat and he adopted an imperious stance as they waited for the chinook to touch down. His friends looked at Trump, looked at each other, smiled and Roger said, “he’s back.”
The chinook got loaded and everyone took their seats. There was quite a bit of heavy equipment packed into the big chopper. What was all that stuff?
As they lifted off the pilot said over the speakers, “Vladimir Putin has invited us all to Moscow. Dasvidaniya, Cuba. Hello Mother Russia.
Not everyone was thrilled with that destination, but Trump seemed to feel that it was high Putin praise. Finally, Trump Tower Moscow, he thought.
The end, maybe.
Next from Loving America to Death: I told you so.