A White House Christmas
In the stately White House.
Just a single Trump was stirring,
Of course, it was Donald's spouse.
Her blood red trees were decked,
With hardly any flair,
Consistent with THAT jacket,
The one that read, "I Really Don't Care."
Young Baron was dreamily sleeping,
In his giant four-poster bed,
Of escaping with his Slovenian Mother,
From that weird old man she had wed.
The kid's life had become a prison,
Inside a 12 foot iron fence,
With lobbyists and grifters and Ivanka,
Not to mention that creepy Mike Pence.
Then on the vast White House lawn,
There arose such a clattering din.
The First Lady heard someone yelling,
"Yo Melania! Where the heck have ya been!"
"I'm here to bust you out!
Get you back to NYC!
To the bustle of Broadway and shopping,
Plus the Statue of Liberty!"
Her eyes how they squinted (more),
Her lips how they poutily pouted.
She fairly ran to the Truman Balcony,
And from there she practically shouted!
"Help us, please! We're being held captive,
Through the quirk of an electoral fluke,
By an angry Septuagenarian loose cannon
Who just might launch every nuke!"
"At imagined enemies and foes,
Like CNN and The Washington Post,
And the venerated New York Times,
Who he surely does hate the most!"
The stranger's voice, it did recite,
Those things that Melania sorely missed,
The stores, the labels, the styles,
None of them she could resist.
"Now Versace! Now Chanel! Now Kate Spade!
Now Dolci and Gabbana!
On Prada! On Vera Wang and McCartney!
Come on, Mel, don'tcha really wanna?"
"Flee back to the loving Big Apple,
With all its beautiful designs,
And away from your husband's daily Twitter rants,
with all his looney tune whines?"
Melania searched the grounds in vain,
for the source of her unfettered hope,
just as the Secret Service tackled an intruder,
and something resembling an antelope.
"Is that Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?"
The weary young Baron mumbled.
He had awakened from his sleepy dream-land,
And out of the bedroom he had stumbled.
Sure enough, it seemed he was right,
The animal sported a bright red nose,
But alas, it was only a sniper's laser sighting,
And thus the creature froze.
And yet mother and son saw their opportunity,
that the wild distraction had presented,
To flee the crazy, chaotic museum
that for four years (at least) they had rented.
After all, she had never wished Donald would win,
For it meant the loss of her anonymity,
Not to mention the very worst of all,
To her husband, a closer proximity.
So she grabbed her secret Go Bag
and clutched Baron's sweaty, anxious hand,
And to the rooftop they both gamely sprinted,
In order to flee that Swampy Land.
For up there patiently waiting,
was none other than Santa Claus.
He had gotten the First Lady's letter,
Reading through it with nary a pause.
She had just one Christmas wish this year,
The very same as the last.
To be removed from that infernal place,
And from a job for which she was so miscast.
They sprang straight into the big sleigh,
And hid under a sackful of toys,
While St. Nick re-filled his flask,
and shushed them not to make any noise.
But what to their wondering eyes
should shockingly appear,
But a menacing Blackhawk helicopter
hovering much, much too near.
And there plopped right in the cockpit,
Frowning just like an old grump,
Was none other than his great big Orange-ness,
Our President, Donald Trump.
"Beat it Kringle! Get lost!
You're a loser and a fraud!
Back up North you fat old man,
But leave Baron and the Broad!"
Santa's eyes, how they burned!
His dimples how they creased!
His blood how it boiled!
The pressure, how it increased!
But with the chopper's guns pointing,
Right at Blitzen's head,
Nicholas knew that if he stuck around,
they all would end up dead.
So he and the reindeer flew away
as Mom and son slunk back,
to their great big respectives bedrooms
to have a good cry and unpack.
But they took heart from one thing they heard,
Santa holler on his way back to the Pole.
"You've been awfully naughty this year, Donald!
So expect nothing but your beloved coal!"
Merry Christmas and a Happier New Year!
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