DONALD GOES TO GUANTANAMO BAY

Donald travels to Guantanamo Bay to visit with his #1 fan, and he has a plan for the place!

Donald is on Air Force One, going down to Guantanamo Bay to visit with Cesar Sayoc, otherwise known as his 'number one fan'. While he is down there, he plans to look the place over with a view towards refitting it...a little. 

He is playing with his phone, his huge, muscular thumbs looking very out of place on his otherwise tiny, delicate hands.

Looking out of the window,Donald tried to imagine what he would say to Sayoc when he saw him. No one knew that he had been moved to Guantanamo, but that was where terrorists were usually sent; brown terrorists, at any rate.

But Cesar Sayoc was a special case. He was, it seemed, a white supremacist, and he was also Donald Trump's number one fan. Donald hated to put him in a prison cell, but maybe there was a way to make things more pleasant for him. He would try.

Donald was appalled when he saw the conditions in which his number one fan was being housed.The place was terrible; depressing and without decoration; a series of single story, dormitory- like buildings inside a double perimeter of high fences topped by razor wire.

That bleeding heart Obama had wanted to close the facility, but Trump disagreed.He signed a new executive order to keep the military prison at Guantanamo Bay, marking a formal reversal of Obama's eight year effort to shut it down.

Trump made it clear during his campaign that he wanted Guantanamo to remain open. He told the press that he planned to “load it up with some bad dudes,” but he had not yet sent a new detainee to the facility. Until now.

He sat up when he saw the green, tropical island below them come into view.

"Hey, that's kind of nice, isn't it?" he said out loud. "Make a nice retreat."

He stretched and pushed the intercom button. The speaker crackled to life. "Yes, sir?" came the pilot's voice.

"How long till we get to the airfield?" asked Donald.

"It's coming into view, sir. We'll be landing in just a few moments," was the pilot's reply.

Donald settled back, remembering how his lawyer had advised him to get fitted for an orange jumpsuit like the prisoners wore here. He had promptly fired that guy.

Melania had been horrified when he'd told her what the lawyer had said. 

"Oh, Donald, no!" she'd cried. "Think of how that orange jumpsuit would look--with your complexion! You cannot wear orange!"

Donald agreed. All he had in his closet was blue suits, white shirts, and red ties. He had a second closet, but it held nothing except golf clothes, and that dress he'd worn when he and Rudy had dressed up like chicks and made out.

At last, the plane was on the ground and he disembarked.

"Stay with the plane," he told the pilot. The limo driver opened the back door for him and he climbed into the car. He saw nothing as they drove to the prison; he was working at his tweeting again. He examined his oversized, muscular thumbs. They were sort of attractive, he thought. Very...masculine, even macho, in their way. He dismissed Melania's insistence that this growth was not normal, and that he should see a doctor. 

"Female hysterics," he muttered, tweeting away.

@ReallyDonaldTrump:

Almost at the prison,he tweeted, This place looks pretty nice to me. Maybe too nice...

The gate rolled open to admit the car, and closed behind them.

As he surveyed the prison grounds, he pointed to a building set apart from the barracks.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Torture--I mean, interrogation building, sir," replied the driver.

"What kind of interrogation do they do here?"

"Oh, you know, the usual.Waterboarding, stuff like that."

"What's that like?" asked Donald. "Doesn't sound so bad. Sounds...sort of like a sport.Like surfing."

"Yeah, sure. I've heard people say it was a lot of fun," the driver agreed.

"If I like it, I may stay for a day or two," said Donald.He looked out the window. "There's quite a lot of space here..." he looked thoughtful.

After he had seen all that he could see, he was offered a meal. He looked uncertainly at the tray of food. It didn't look very good.

"I think I'll pass," Donald decided.

"Sorry, sir, not an option," said the warden.

He was huge, with hairy, muscular arms and short, bowed legs. The man resembled a gorilla who had been shaved.His head, which was slightly pointed, was bald as could be. His eyes were small, piglike, and he was squinting at Donald, who was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable.

The warden grabbed Donald and put him in a headlock. He struggled, but the warden's big arm was cutting off his oxygen supply. He pawed ineffectually at the arm as the world grayed, and then went dark. 

Donald woke with his mouth tasting vaguely of chicken. He felt uncomfortably full, and when he looked down at himself, he was horrified to see that he was, indeed, wearing one of the orange jumpsuits! He sat up, rubbing his neck. He was in one of the cells.

He spotted a guard sitting on a rickety chair a few yards from his cell.He was a thin fellow, brown skin, black hair, and dark eyes. Those dark eyes were currently trained on Donald.

to be continued... 

Author's Note

Donald goes stuck in Guantanamo Bay!

Reviews

[Neville]

Thoroughly enjoyed and most deserving of much more credit.... check out Margies' suggestion below.. I only found this space coz I luv ya x

[barleygirl]

Hopefully you can delete all the "carriage returns" (old name for blank lines) . . . so six pages of white space will be eliminated & we can get from reading to reviewing without massive scrolling . . . I'll be back to pay more attention to this later . . .

[Neville]

cheers.. I thought it was just me getting snow blind.. or snack nai visdem, as we say in Bulgaria..