A MIRACLE CURE

Hooray for the new Trump super-health supplement, coming soon to your house!

Here's how it works: There'll be an urgent banging on your door. You open up to reveal an Army second lieutenant and a squad of heavily armed men.

"What's all this?" you ask.

"Here's your super-health supplement direct from the dedicated scientists at Trump's National Health Administration."

The officer presents a small plastic box. Inside: five brown capsules.

"One for you and every member of your family," the officer says.

"What's it do?"

"Oh, sir, what doesn't it do? I'm sure you are aware of how important it is to have an active microbiome in your lower GI tract. Well, this is it! With this small capsule you get the best of Trump all the time."

"Donald Trump made this himself?"

"Absolutely," the officer says. He takes out a plastic card and reads from it: "President Donald J. Trump's own personal microbiome is the ultimate source of this miracle health supplement. The raw material is harvested, then cloned, amended, and tailored by medical experts specifically for patriotic Americans all over the country."

"And all I have to do is swallow one of these capsules?"

"Yes, sir. You and every member of your family."

"Okay. So if I get what you're saying, the capsule contains the essence of Donald Trump?"

"Direct from his lower tract microbiome, yes."

"Which is to say, it's made from the man's own personal...poop."

"Exactly."

"And you want me to eat it?"

"Of course," the officer says. "And not just you. Your whole family. The law says you must all partake."

"So now it's a law all of a sudden?"

"Don't get me wrong, sir. It was always going to be a law."

"I'm inclined to say no."

"Okay, but don't."

"Don't say no?"

"This is all about your health, sir. Yours and your whole family."

"Uh-huh."

"President Trump wants all patriotic Americans to be healthy and happy."

"No offense, but I think I'd rather not partake of the sort of health that originates in Donald Trump's poop."

"I get why you might say that," the officer says. "But the president's poop is really quite excellent."

"Still ..."

"You're not listening. Donald Trump is the healthiest human being in the history of this planet. All the doctors say so."

"All of them?"

"Plus, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know the processing operation is completely certified by Robert F. Kennedy, Jr."

"Is that really a good thing?"

"I think you're forgetting, sir, that during our recent election a great many Americans came out wholeheartedly in favor of what's in these capsule. And that was for the unprocessed raw material. Maybe you saw some of Trump's widely attended political rallies. MAGA people are really quite enthusiastic for this stuff."

"I don't doubt that."

You look at the squad of heavily armed men standing around in your front yard. Across the street you can see another squad of men backing up another young Army officer as he lays out the proposition for your neighbor.

You ask, "What if I say no and that's an end to it?"

The officer shrugs. "Entirely up to you, sir. This is America and you have a choice. But if you should choose not to take the supplement, you will be given another choice: deportation or summary execution."

"You're kidding."

"Do we look like we're kidding?"

The officer turns, nods at his squad. The men straighten up and start adjusting their weapons. Automatic rifles, mostly. One of them has a flame-thrower.

"But how can I be deported?" you say. "It doesn't make any sense. I was born in this country!"

"Birthright citizenship," the officer says. "I think you'll find that argument has lost some of its sparkle in Trump's New America."

"Where would we go? Where would you send us?"

"This is America, sir. You have a choice of any country that will have you."

"I don't..."

The officer's cell phone begins to play "YMCA."

"'Scuse me, sir," he says. "I have to take this."

Across the street, the other young officer is also taking a call. He holds a finger up to your neighbor's angry face.

A moment later your officer is putting his phone away. "Change of plans, sir. The choice is now execution or transportation to Greenland."

"We have to learn Danish now?"

"Of course not, sir," the officer says. "Rest assured there will soon be millions of Americans in Greenland, all speaking English. I mean, we need workers to man the raw earth factories, don't we?"

You say: "I don't want any part of this."

"What do you mean? You voted for it."

"Not me."

"What I mean is, the country voted for it. Doesn't matter what this guy or that guy voted for. As a country, we voted for all of this."

Shouting from across the street. The squad of soldiers pushes into the house. Several bursts of automatic weapons. After a long pause, one final burst.

"Guess he made up his mind," the officer says.

His soldiers look grim, getting their game faces on.

You say, "That last burst..."

"Sometimes the little ones crawl under their beds," the officer says. "Ya gotta root 'em out of there, you know what I mean?"

Black smoke from the house across the street.

"You guys are burning him out?"

"Cauterizing," the officer says. "Just a precaution, sir. A decision as bad as the one your neighbor just made might indicate some sort of severe mental degradation. What if there's a virus going around? Can't be too careful!"

Sort of makes it easy, doesn't it? "Give me the capsules," you say.

"Smart choice," the officer says, handing them over. "Bring your family members out, okay? I'll need to see it happen to make my report."

You think: That makes sense.

What the hell, maybe the pills will do some good.

When it's done, the officer prepares his squad to go to the next house on your side of the block. You hear sirens in the distance. Fire trucks on the way at last.

At least it's over.

The officer turns back to you and smiles. "Okay, sir. See you tomorrow!"