I was chatting with a colleague about how silly it is to use creative writing techniques in journalism and I decided to try it out as a little bit of parody. So here it is, a news FanFiction based on Michael D. Shear's NYTimes article today: "Trump Says Transition's Going 'Smoothly,' Despite Disarray Reports."
Disarray?! He thought. Disarray. Birds chirped merrily outside the 5th Avenue apartment, but he couldn’t get the critique out of his head. The transition is the most arrayed transition in history. Everyone is saying it. How could they possibly say this tremendous transition is in disarray? His tiny hands raced across the screen,
“It is going so smoothly”
Donald J. Trump took a long sip of his coffee and thought about how presidential his tweets were getting.
Days earlier, the golden-haired big wig had watched the map fill with red as his heart filled with pride; America took its first steps toward greatness, a renaissance of glory. But as the news rolled in, so did the tide of presumption and horse-trades. Reporters began to insist Rudolph Giuliani was up for Crooked Hilary’s job and although he had made his career in hiring and firing, Donald J. Trump could feel a great, green lump growing at the bottom of his stomach and he dreaded telling Sean Hannity the bad news.
“Hey Sean, I know it’s been awhile,” he would clutch the receiver. “Look, about the Secretary position…” Leave time here for dramatic effect, rolling back onto his heels. “No, no, it’s not you, it’s me.” He chuckled at this last part. It totally was Sean.
Still chuckling to himself, Donald J. Trump sat down in his gold chair, scooted up to his gold desk, picked up his gold sharpie and drew a single, straight, gold line.
Rudolph Giuliani (aka Rudy)
Laura Ingraham (aka Laurie)
Nikki R. Haley (aka Nikki)
Now to deal with the others. He had just begun pinning three pictures in a buckshot pattern on his golden dartboard when “Hail to the Chief” played by a thousand sad Mexicans came blasting through his pocket.
“Vlad! You’re going to be so proud. We won so big, yuuuge…”
His phone buzzed through the thick, masculine accent. He could almost hear the Russian bear being attacked on horseback.
“You are so right. I have a very good brain, everyone says so.”
His phone buzzed again.
“Look, Vlad, I’ll have to call you back… No, you hang up! No, you!…" The air was thick with suspense "Well, you didn’t hang up either!”
By the time he had hung up he had over twenty texts from foreign leaders around the world wishing him congratulations. Big League. Crooked Hilary didn’t have any friends like he did. The New York Times never saw it coming. This called for a tweet:
“So many calls from many foreign leaders despite what the @nytimes said”
He deleted the neener-neener emoji, the one with the tongue sticking out before hitting “Tweet.” So presidential. Today was going to be a tremendous day. He picked up a gold dart.
