Release date: December 3, 2017
Subgenre: Humor anthology
About Steaks, Walls and Dossiers: The Best Trump Anthology Ever:
Time assassins. The entire nation of Scotland. Satan himself.
You
thought President Donald J. Trump was outrageous? See 13 fictional
Trumps combat absurd enemies in these amazing 16 short stories — the
BEST ever.
Some classy but most downright ludicrous, these
tremendously winning stories are going to take care of your need for
entertainment, Little Reader Man. Believe me!
We’re making fiction
great again for billions and trillions of incredible readers just like
you. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it. Grab your copy now!
These
stories are imploding, and soon will explode. To miss out would cause
an absolute and total catastrophe. Buy the book now before the price
goes up!
WARNING: Not suitable for low-energy types, weak men, losers, lightweights, zeros, Crazy Megyn, Crooked Hillary or Lyin’ Ted!
What are you waiting for? Do your thing, Little Reader Man!
Excerpt:
Scorched
by Pat Woods
President Trump looked at his reflection in the gold-framed, diamond-encrusted mirror. He liked what he saw.
“You’re the guy,” he told the reflection, making some of his favorite facial expressions. “You’re gonna have a great day.
“Sorry, where were we?” he said, turning back to his embattled Chief of Staff. He had forgotten this one’s name; they came and went pretty quickly.
The pale, nervous man shuffled his papers. “Bad news. The SNP—”
“Is it Baldwin? Is he back?” Trump snatched up his phone and tweeted a scathing review of the actor’s latest performance (“When will @AlecBaldwin give it up? Latest performance a joke!!! Beating a dead horse. Sad.”). He never missed an episode. He was working on his own Alec Baldwin impersonation; it was a gas.
“Ah, not SNL, the SNP. The Scottish National Party.”
“Nationalists? Like it. Go on.”
“There was a referendum—”
“You think I’m stupid?” Trump yelled, slamming his comically small fist on the desk, scattering gold sharpies. “That’s old news! I made Brexit happen, believe me! It was the Trump Effect! And it was great, bigly! People said, a lot of people, they said it was incredible. Left those clowns in the EU looking like idiots.”
“Mr. President, they’re rejoining the EU. The vote passed less than an hour ago.”
Trump considered. “Good for them,” he decided. “My mother was from there, so I’m half-Scottish. Nobody is more half-Scottish than me. Got two great golf courses there.”
“That’s the thing, Mr. President. The Act of Scottish Independence has granted all privately owned land in Scotland to the people. They’ve reclaimed your golf courses.”
Trump’s face, already an unnatural shade of orange, changed hue, passing through puce into volcanic scarlet.
“YOU’RE FIRED!” he bellowed. “GET ME ON AIR FORCE ONE!”
“You’re the guy,” he told the reflection, making some of his favorite facial expressions. “You’re gonna have a great day.
“Sorry, where were we?” he said, turning back to his embattled Chief of Staff. He had forgotten this one’s name; they came and went pretty quickly.
The pale, nervous man shuffled his papers. “Bad news. The SNP—”
“Is it Baldwin? Is he back?” Trump snatched up his phone and tweeted a scathing review of the actor’s latest performance (“When will @AlecBaldwin give it up? Latest performance a joke!!! Beating a dead horse. Sad.”). He never missed an episode. He was working on his own Alec Baldwin impersonation; it was a gas.
“Ah, not SNL, the SNP. The Scottish National Party.”
“Nationalists? Like it. Go on.”
“There was a referendum—”
“You think I’m stupid?” Trump yelled, slamming his comically small fist on the desk, scattering gold sharpies. “That’s old news! I made Brexit happen, believe me! It was the Trump Effect! And it was great, bigly! People said, a lot of people, they said it was incredible. Left those clowns in the EU looking like idiots.”
“Mr. President, they’re rejoining the EU. The vote passed less than an hour ago.”
Trump considered. “Good for them,” he decided. “My mother was from there, so I’m half-Scottish. Nobody is more half-Scottish than me. Got two great golf courses there.”
“That’s the thing, Mr. President. The Act of Scottish Independence has granted all privately owned land in Scotland to the people. They’ve reclaimed your golf courses.”
Trump’s face, already an unnatural shade of orange, changed hue, passing through puce into volcanic scarlet.
“YOU’RE FIRED!” he bellowed. “GET ME ON AIR FORCE ONE!”
Amazon
About George Donnelly:
Author of dystopian, conspiracy and space opera science fiction
novels that shatter the page-turning limits of freedom and the
heart-thrilling cavitations of love, George Donnelly terraforms his
topopolis-to-be at 22,000 KPH in near-Earth orbit, in his spare time.
Former altar boy turned truancy fugitive, George is an expat vagabond
who prefers zombies to aliens but is primed for any meatspace apocalypse
minus grey goo. Relieve the solitude of his forlorn cryostatic exile by
visiting GeorgeDonnelly.com.
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