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A Colorful Wall Trumps Everything - Part 2

Hello, this is Larry of Perennial Painting.

Hi, Larry, this is Donald of the new Great Again America. How's it going?

Well, not bad, Mr.'s the new job going?

No complaints, really; except, maybe, that my handicap has gone up a couple strokes in the past year. I can't seem to be able to sneak by these Secret Service guys to play a few extra rounds.

Can't you, at least, practice your putting in the Oval Office, Donald?

You bet, Larry! I got a sweet little 18 hole course set up in there. Just yesterday, I made 35 bucks off Sessions. I don't think that squirrely little goofball knows a putter from a driver. But that bull moose Bannon...he was kicking my ass everyday, which was the real reason that I had to get him the hell out of here! I couldn't afford to putt against him any more.

It sounds like you're fitting right in to the Washington scene there, Donald.

You know, Larry, they do make a helluva cheeseburger in the White House; and I can lay in bed watching old Westerns til I fall asleep. But because I do my best thinking in the middle of the night. I've gotten into the routine of having one of the cute little interns here wake me up with a chocolate shake at 3AM. She seems to be getting used to the petite French Maid costume that I make her wear.

Don't you have to be concerned because of the Clinton-Monica thing?

Are you kidding, Larry? I would never have sexual relations with that gal...she's just eye candy, if you know what I mean. Besides, that's the time I have to buckle down on my tweets. As you probably know, I've become a powerful tweeter...that whole concept is right up my alley. Tweets don't take much thinking; and thank God for spel chek. I can just blast out whatever pops into my head, click the arrow, and watch the pot get stirred. For whatever reason, I seem to do a better job on Twitter when my French Maid is sitting on the edge of the bed.

Donald, you truly are an amazing President...but is there is reason that you called me?

O, yea, I almost forgot. Remember that bid that you gave me about a year ago for painting the Wall? Well, I need you to revise it a bit before I actually give you the job. Now, first of all...cut the length of the damn thing from 2000 to 400 miles. I just don't have the cash right now to pay for the whole thing. It sounded great when I was out campaigning, and probably got me a shit load of votes; but I've found the alligators in this Washington swamp can get meaner than Melania after a State House dinner.

OK, Mr. Prez, but where will the 400 miles be built?

You know, Larry, that's a good question. I haven't really thought about it much. I guess I've been preoccupied thinking about that little louse over in North Korea. Now I'm sure that prick does't know the difference between a 5 iron and a flagstick. All I know is that he'd better keep his bombs out of Hawaii; they've got way too many beautiful golf courses there! But back to your question, Larry; I'm leaning toward building that wall down by El Paso; then when we meet down there to talk about the painting, we can play a few rounds and I'll take you to this awesome titty bar just across the border.

Great. Have you and Melania talked anymore about colors?

Now she's hot on pink. She thinks that by going feminine we can get those #Me Too clowns off our backs, and to get all those fake news jokers to stop playing that bus video with me bragging about grabbing. Truth is, I've gone over a year now with no grabbing and it's getting to me. During a meeting the other day, I found myself staring at Pelosi's legs. I think she kept hiking her skirt up to tease me. And the way Pence keeps flashing that toothy smile at me; sometimes I wish I could wrap a pitching wedge around his red neck! Yikes! Color, color...OK, let's call it pink; but can you, at least, Larry, paint a grey border across the top? Talk to ya later.

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