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©Skitterphoto, 2016

I cannot be an eye-opening novelist without Donald Trump’s hair making an appearance in Chapter 5.  The one you’re reading is Chapter 5.  The novel starts in the middle, with Chapter 5, boldly.  Boldness is my forte.  It is also the platform on which the star of this reality novel runs for President of the United States of America.  Together, we clash.  That is the stuff of fiction.

“Donald Trump’s hair,” I say, directly addressing the eyesore in the opening scene.  I can’t help being arch in my ingenious novel, The Novel.  Experimentally, I cannot resist pointing out my archness.  What a crazy meta-narrator I am!  Equally disturbing is the commissioned headpiece/perplexing hairstyle (nobody knows for sure) that helps sell the image of innocent insouciance, just what America needs about every thirty-six years.  Ronald Reagan rode into town and flushed out the bad guys in 1980.  I remember his shining, greased hair popping out like a black surfboard, a small one, since his days as Governor of California.  Rather than menacing, it was a friendly pompadour that excused the slimy excesses of the 1950’s, the 1960’s, the 1970’s, all perpetrated in the name of goodness and the American way—the CIA shenanigans that most normal adults accepted as the way things got done if you wanted to live right.  Donald Trump’s hair is blonde and thinner and managed right but not uptight, just like his portfolio and what the country will be like when he’s elected.  A surprising dash of fun is in store for us, not all straight-laced shit.  On his head he carries a whacky tribute to the Beach Boys and “California Girls,” off-handedly given, which offends me as a native Southern Californian with a fondness for the Beach Boys, and crime.  “You bug me.”

“YOU BUG ME.  MEXICAN.  RAPIST.  DRUG ADDICT.”

“You’d be surprised what I have to say about immigration.”

“NOT IF YOU DON’T LIKE MY HAIR.  I WON’T LISTEN.  I JUST WON’T LISTEN.”

“Your hair is all right, man.  It’s what’s under it that bugs me, your brain.”

“I AINT GOT ONE.  NOT ONE OF THOSE INTELLECTUAL BRAINS.  I TELL IT LIKE IT IS.”

“I’m afraid you do.”

“WHINER.  QUITTER.  I’M AHEAD IN THE POLLS.”

“Yes, you are, Donald.  It’s an interesting summer.  I’ll see you later.  I’m scared of you.”

“WHAT ABOUT ME?  I’M REAL.”

“Yup.”

“SEE YA LATER, ALLIGATOR!  I’VE GOT A SENSE OF HUMOR, SEE?  IT’S NOT ALL POLITICS AND BUSINESS.  BET YOU DIDN’T KNOW THAT.”

“I like the Indian guy from Louisiana.  I like Hillary all right.  I think Bernie Sanders is interesting.  I might vote Sanders this year.”

“LOSER.  HAND IT OVER TO THE SOCIALISTS.”

“I thought Obama already did.”

“WHAT’S LEFT OF IT.”

“The stock market is roaring.”

“IT REMINDS ME OF ME BEFORE I WAS ME.  DO YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN?  IT WORKS!  I’M GONNA MAKE IT WORK EVEN HARDER.  WE’RE GONNA BE BIG, BIGGER THAN THE CHINESE.  RUSSIA?  FORGET IT.  MEXICO?  I WANT A WALL THERE NOW.  I WANT GOOD MEXICANS BUILDING IT, NOT BAD ONES.  I CAN TELL THE DIFFERENCE.”

“I heard that in grade school.  It was a great consolation.”

“LOSER’S BRACKET.”

“How about the bomb?”

“THE BOMB?  I WOULD TELL VLADIMIR PUTIN TO GO AHEAD AND TRY IT MY FIRST DAY IN OFFICE.  LET’S GET THAT ESTABLISHED.  ‘MR. PUTIN,’ I WOULD SAY.  ‘LOB ONE OVER.  SEE WHAT IT GETS YA.’  I WOULD HAVE MY FINGER ON THE BUTTON AS I SAID THAT, ON NATIONAL TV.  AND NOT JUST CABLE.  I WOULD PUT IT ON POOR PEOPLE’S TV.  JUST BECAUSE I’M A BILLIONAIRE A MILLION TIMES OVER DOESN’T MEAN I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE OTHER GUYS, THE NON-BILLIONAIRES.  I’M FIGHTING FOR THEM.  THAT IS WHAT DONALD TRUMP IS ABOUT.  AMERICAN VALUES THAT ARE LOST WHEN DRUG ADDICTS SNEAK OVER THE BORDERLESS BORDER AFTER RAPING THEIR WOMEN AND LAUGHING ABOUT IT.  I’VE HEARD NARCO CORRIDOS SELLING THIS CONCEPT.  DONALD TRUMP IS BIGGER THAN EL CHAPO.  TUNNELS?  YOU WANT TUNNELS?  TRY NEW YORK CITY.  WHICH I BUILT.  I’D HIT ONLY THE COAST OF RUSSIA.  NOT THE CENTER.  THERE IS NO NEED TO BE UNDIPLOMATIC.  DONALD TRUMP IS ABOUT DIPLOMACY.  WE’RE IN CHARGE AGAIN, THE U.S. OF A.”

“I hope your party comes to its senses and stops you.”

“STOPS ME?  I’M UNSTOPPABLE.”

“Bush, or one of those guys.  I’d like to see you dead in the race.  You scare me.”

“EVERYBODY LOVES ME.  THE MIDWEST LOVES ME.  THE SOUTH LOVES ME.  WE GOT ENOUGH SUPPORT IN CALIFORNIA AND THE NORTHEAST TO MAKE IT HAPPEN.  THOSE WIGGLY STATES, OREGON, WASHINGTON, AND THAT ONE IN THE MIDDLE—A GOOD STATE!  THEY’RE GOING DONALD.”

“I wish to remind you that this is a work of fiction, Donald.  You’re in my novel fictionally.”

“LIKE REAL TIME?”

“Yes, exactly.  Summer 2015.  Can you smile for us?”

“CAN I TAKE ONE WITH YOU, SENOR?  I NEED THE MEXICAN VOTE TO SHOW THE MEXICANS I’M NOT AFRAID TO LOVE THEM.   I LOVE MEXICANS WHO AREN’T RAPISTS OR DRUG ADDICTS.  NORMAL PEOPLE.”

“Donald, I’m shy.  I’m not used to great men.  Stand alone under that flag.”

“GOD BLESS AMERICA.”

I see him smiling.  I see him waving.  Thousands of adoring women crowd the platform.  I want to rape.  Before I perpetrate that cowardly, sick crime that only a callow asshole without understanding of its seriousness would breezily attribute to anybody, I need to shoot up.  This will give me courage for another crime, and another crime, and a final crime.  “Shooting the candidate.”  Ah, shit!  I’m going to flee the country to save it. Maybe Mexico will have me.  I doubt it.  I’m so sick.  I’m so undesirable.  It must have something to do with which side of the border I come from.

“FROM THE MOUNTAINS, TO THE PRAIRIES…”

©Stephen Gutierrez, 2016

Stephen D. Gutierrez is a proud graduate of the BAWP Summer Class of 1994. He continues to work at Cal State East Bay in the English Department, and to write. His most recent book is The Mexican Man in His Backyard, Stories & Essays. Learn more about him at stephendgutierrez.com.

3 Responses to “Trump Time by Stephen Gutierrez”

  1. sim chiang Says:

    Right on, Steve. Couldn’t have captured it better. Fiction indeed!


    1. Apologies for the reply below, SIM. Been a long time. It’s late. Thanks for the support! -Steve

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