President Trump invited thought leader and Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez to lunch at the White House so they might get to know each other. The Big Red Car was allowed to sit in and listen to their conversation.
AOC arrived at the porto cochere in a black SUV that gets seven miles per gallon in city traffic. As she stepped down, she mounted the stairs and waved to the crowd on the other side of the drive. It was actually three members of the White House grounds crew who had been blowing leaves off the driveway. They waved back at her.
“Amigo, it’s AOC. Wave, man.”
President Donald J Trump met her at the door — he was a little late — and welcomed her to the White House.
“Have you ever been to the White House?” he asked, holding her hand.
“No, but I will live here one day.” She broke into laughter, riotous laughter.
DJT chuckled and waved a finger at her. [She’s 29 and you have to be 35 to be President.]
They walked into the White House and to the Oval Office.
“Alexandria, this is where the action is, where stuff goes down. Right there, at that desk, the Resolute desk. What do you think?”
“Pretty cool, Mr. President.”
“Shall we grab a bite to eat? The White House chef has made a feast for us.”
“McDonald’s or the chef?” AOC asked. “Cause I hear you love cheeseburgers from the House of Mac.”
“No, I had the chef make us cheeseburgers with any kind of cheese you want. Even extra cheese if you like. The beef is free range beef and none of these cows fart.”
“You know I don’t eat cheeseburgers, right?”
“No,” DJT said. “What else would you like?”
“Can I get a PB&J? I adore crunchy.”
“Yes, you can,” DJT said. In the background somewhere a chorus began to chant “Yes, you can!”
They sat for a few seconds, the awkward silence overpowering their natural warm feelings as organic bonding took place.
“So, AOC, what are you working on these days?”
“Well, Don, you may have heard about the New Green Deal, right? Have to treat Mother Nature right. Can’t count on you Republicans to save her, so I will.”
“Hmmm, is that the one where we get rid of the internal combustion engine in the next ten years?”
“Well, I want to get rid of ICE and ICE — get it? The internal combustion engine and the other ICE — Immigration and Customs Enforcement. ICE, ICE, baby! God, I want to dance. Do you dance, Don?”
“I do, but only at my inaugural lately.” They studied a picture of the President and the First Lady dancing at the Inaugural. “Do you know what song we danced to, Alex? My Way by Frank Sinatra cause I sort of like to do things my way. Get it?”
“Alexandria, maybe we can dance at my second Inaugural in a couple of years? What say you?”
“In your fucking dreams, Orange Man, I’ll have your fat ass impeached by then.”
“Yes, of course. Hostile much? So, Alexandria, you’re really taking a high profile for a former bartender?”
“That’s racist calling me a bartender. By the way, can I get a drink?”
“Certainly, let me call the steward. Ahhh, here he is. Please tell him what you want.”
“Can I get a chocolate milk, straight up? And, how about an inch of Deep Eddy Vodka, grapefruit flavor in a red Solo cup over ice, please. Wait, make that two inches. Then, an inch of grapefruit juice, inch of juice de cranberry, fill it with champagne, and a dribble of Rose’s lime juice. Stirred, not shaken. Make me two of them, please.”
“Lovely, Alex, how creative.”
“Want one, Don? This is my go-to drink when I can’t get a joint.”
“No, thank you, Alex, I don’t drink. Never have. Just a diet Coke for me.”
They made small talk while they ate. President Trump, oddly eschewing the cheeseburger, had meatloaf covered — drowned — in Heinz ketchup, and AOC had a PB&J sandwich with the crusts removed.
As they finished, they had a couple of surprise guests arrive.
“Hey, Alex, look it’s the Vice Presidents.”
First VP Pence introduced himself, bowing and kissing her hand. Then, former VP Biden snuck up behind her and smelled her hair.
“Get your creepy nose out of my hair, you ancient, white man. Don, save me. Joe’s so creepy.”
President Trump was laughing so hard he couldn’t speak as Joe Biden continued to smell AOC’s hair and landed small butterfly kisses on her right ear.
“Wow,” Joe said, “Alex — can I call you Alex? You’re hair smells terrific. Tastes great also.”
“Get your fucking tongue out of my ear, you pervert,” AOC said, leaping to her feet whereupon she kicked Joe Biden in the crotch which resulted in his falling to the ground in pain.
“Damn, Joe, ouch, I bet that hurts,” Mike Pence said. “You know, Alex, you really are a ball buster, in the nicest possible way, mind you.”
“Alex, I hope this doesn’t indicate you aren’t going to support me,” Joe Biden said, as he writhed in pain.
As Joe rolled on the carpet, AOC gave him two more kicks with her pointy high heels. Both landed with authority.
“Alex, this hurts me way more than it hurts you,” Joe said.
“No shit, Einstein,” she said, before throwing her napkin on the table. “Hey, look, I have to run. I’m meeting George Soros for some fresh blood in fifteen minutes over at the Old Ebbitt Grill in the Willard Hotel. Joe, put some ice on those nuts. Sorry. Listen, Don, I enjoyed myself. Don’t get too comfortable cause when the Mueller report comes out, I’m going to be sticking it where the sun doesn’t shine. Adios, you three old white dinosaurs. Peace.”
After AOC departed, Mike Pence was the first to recover.
“Wow, that little filly is filled with spunk, no? How are those nuts feeling, Joe?”
“God damn it, that little lady packs a real wallop. Can I get some ice?”
“OK, Big Red Car,” Donald J Trump said, “this is your exit. See you. Scram. Now, this is all confidential, right?”