The Trump administration is scrambling to suppress former national security advisor John Bolton’s new tell-all book: The Nursery Where it Happened. A memoir Bolton’s publisher promises will be the “most comprehensive and substantive account of the Donald Trump persona.”
The book alleges that the 45th president of the United States is actually two children stacked on top of one another, a maneuver Bolton refers to as a “totem pole trench coat.”
When asked to address the accusation during the latest Rose Garden press conference the president said, “I know you are, but what am I?”
A CNN reporter assessed what was becoming painfully obvious. “You’re two children in a zoot suit with like an extra-long novelty tie.”
“I know you are, but what am I?”
“I don’t know sir, what are you?”
“I am your president of law and order.” Trump pressed his knuckles to his waist. “I think a federal judge should do something about that butthead Bolton.”
Bolton alleges the original duo who created the Trump persona put a William Shatner mask in the microwave for thirty seconds. They then painted it with self-tanner to make it look more lifelike. When it was dry they topped it off with a Marilyn Monroe wig trimmed and styled to resemble a Ken doll.
Bolton also alleges Trump’s baggy suits serves a utilitarian purpose for the children posing as him. “Trump’s posture is a sign he’s two boys playing at manhood. Look at how he leans forward. That’s to conceal the kneecaps that would otherwise be jutting out from his gut. Still the hands are a dead giveaway. No man that tall has hands that small.”
Bolton also draws his readers attention to the president’s behavior over the last few years. He asks, “Why else would a 74 year old man have difficulty pronouncing basic words off a teleprompter? Why else would a serious politician have nick names for everyone? Why else would he have trouble walking down a simple ramp? And why else would his fly keep unzipping on its own?”
Still, the logistics of two children posing as a senior citizen who’s spent most of his life in the spotlight don’t make much sense.
Bolton has an answer for that. “I have reason to believe a rotating cast of tweens have inhabited the role of Donald J. Trump since he first started made waves in the late 1970s.”
The book is filled with candid photographs from the early stages of Trump’s career. Bolton walked reporters through his evidence.
“The Trump persona was created by two boys from Queens. They wanted to sneak into a Porn Emporium back when Time Square still had them. When that worked they decided to keeping pushing the envelope to see what they could get away with. They went to the Playboy mansion, bankrupted businesses, bought casinos, and signed book deals. When the founders of the Trump persona went to high school they passed it onto two other young men. On and on it went. These kids got married, fathered children, cheated with porn stars, starred in reality TV shows, and ultimately bluffed their way into the presidency.”
Bolton’s rotating cast theory explains why Trump has been so politically inconstant throughout his life. In the 1990s he was a pro-choice Democrat who donated to the Clinton Foundation. Later he joined the Reform party only to leave when they embraced Klansman David Duke, but by 2016, when Trump was running for president, he had forgotten who David Duke even was.
Nevertheless, as national security advisor, Bolton signed an air tight non-disclosure agreement. He very well could be breaching national security by revealing this classified information to the public.
Bolton cast these concerns aside. “I don’t care if I signed my soul away. The American public has the right to know why their president tried to get the Ukraine to dig up dirt on his political rival. Why he didn’t take the COVID-19 pandemic seriously. Why he let a recession happen. Why he has no idea what to do about racial injustice, police reform, or national unrest. Americans deserve answers to all those question and then they ought to know why their president’s crotch keeps sneezing all the time.”
Meet Noelle, a Hollywood transplant that’s been subsisting on instant ramen and false hope. She’s on the verge of moving back into her mother’s trailer when her agent convinces her to take a meeting at the Oralia Hotel. Enchanted by the art deco atmosphere Noelle signs a contract without reading the fine print.
Now she has one month to pen a novel sequestered in a fantasy suite where a hack writer claims he had an unholy encounter. With whom you ask? Well, he has many names: Louis Cypher, Bill Z. Bub, Kel Diablo. The Devil.
Noelle is skeptical, until she’s awoken by a shadow figure with a taste for souls.
Desperate to make it Noelle stays on, shifting the focus of her story to these encounters. Her investigations take her through the forth wall and back again until she’s blurred the line between reality and what’s written. Is there a Satanic conspiracy, is it a desperate author’s insanity, or something else entirely?