Kellyanne’s Vacation


‘She isn’t around anymore.’

‘I don’t like the sound of that.’

‘She isn’t around anymore, Mr President.’

‘That’s not what I mean. When you say isn’t around I don’t think I like the sound of that. Or I should say I don’t like you saying that to me.’

‘She is no longer with us, Mr President.’

‘Is that bad? That sounds bad.’

Bad, Mr President? Do you mean bad as in not good or as in terrible?’ Spicer rather than the secret service agent asks.

‘I don’t understand what you are asking, but I don’t like being told she is no longer with us. I don’t mind that she isn’t here anymore, but I don’t understand what this agent is telling me. Is she dead? Did we – I mean – did someone have her…,’ he inflects his voice upwards, ‘… removed? That would be bad,’ the President says.

President Trump pouts with pursed lips but the others in the Oval Office are not yet sure if this is just his normal face or one of concern. If Kellyanne was there she would probably let the others know, as she was always in the know about these kinds of things, but she is no longer around anymore.

‘She just isn’t here, Mr President,’ Spicer tells him. ‘No one had her removed, Sir.’

‘Are you sure, Spicer?’ the President asks. ‘You aren’t always sure about things,’ the President adds.

‘I’m sure about this, Mr President, and I don’t think…’

‘….gas,’ the President interrupts. ‘That was bad.’

Spicer looks down at his feet, but at least he is standing on them. Not like Kellyanne who had hers curled up under her ass sitting on the Oval Office chair. That was the beginning. That’s when others – not the President – suggested it was time for her to go, not that they suggested this to the President. He hadn’t noticed. It was like a lot of things the President didn’t notice. Like not noticing if Kellyanne was around anymore.

‘You can sit down Sean,’ the President tells Spicer, pointing to the chair where Kellyanne sat on her feet.

‘I’m fine,’ Mr President, Spicer says.

‘I liked having Kellyanne around.’ the President says to anyone listening. ‘She made me feel good.’

‘You mean not bad?’ Mr President, Spicer asks.

President Trump looks at Spicer with an empty stare that Spicer interprets as normal on one of the few occasions when he is right.

‘She is secured,’ the agent who was earlier speaking with the President speaks again.

‘Secured?’ the President asks.

‘Not here anymore,’ Spicer interjects. ‘At the press briefing today I will be informing everyone that Kellyanne is taking a well-deserved vacation, Mr President.’

‘Is she having a vacation?’ the President asks.

The agent looks at Spicer who looks at his feet – his own feet – and shuffles them a little.

‘It’s the last day of National Poetry Month today, Mr President,’ Spicer continues. ‘I’m going to read the poem Vacation by the former US Poet Laureate Rita Dove, Mr President, and then I’m going to make a seamless reference to the fact Kellyanne has gone on vacation and make it sound relevant and intelligent.’

The President looks at Spicer with an empty stare. So does the agent. So does everyone else in the Oval Office.

‘Today’s my 100th day in office,’ the President says, looking confused and disappointed.

‘That’s why I’m reading a poem, Mr President,’ Spicer tells him. ‘It was Kellyanne’s suggestion, Mr President, one she made 100 days ago. A bit of foresight I think. She had some good ideas, but in the end she had to go, Mr President.’

‘Is Kellyanne not with us anymore?’ the President asks.

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