Klepto was sprawled on the couch, his pink and gold, diamond patterned pajamas pooled around him like the skin of a downed Zeppelin. His big red clown shoes were splayed as his son-in-law had suggested so he could peer between them to watch TV. Looking past his shoes to the TV had been a nagging problem until Harlequin solved it after only two years of trying.
Klepto snapped his fingers. “Gimme something new. Something new.” After the Inspiration, uh, Inebriation…Inattention? he had been watching television and all he heard about was the women’s march. For a long time, he thought it was just a beauty pageant gone horribly wrong and he mocked it volubly for its poor management. Then it dawned on him that the women were protesting something. A long time later he realized they were protesting him. He wasn’t going to be caught napping again. Not unless he was actually napping.
“Gotta stay ahead of the news cycle. Grab the head lines,” he said.
“You could keep some campaign promises,” Harlequin suggested. He stepped forward in that magical way of his where he advanced without moving his feet. He was holding an immense number of papers in his hand which he magically managed not to drop and was consulting them by magically reading. At least Klepto assumed it was magic. It wasn’t something he could do.
“Great. What did I promise?”
“Mostly to make American white again,” Harlequin answered.
“Well, we all knew that wasn’t going to happen.”
“Anyway, I have a list.”
So Klepto worked his way through Harlequin’s list. He signed an Edict that he was going to build a wall. Lights flashed when he signed things and he held up a kind of binder that might have held a wedding photo or menu from a pretentious restaurant. The paper he signed only took up one side. His edicts were short, partly so he could plausibly say he had read them, but mostly to leave lots of room for his weird, illegible space grabbing signature. He always admired the way Patrick Henry wrote his name so big on the Constitution that it was really the only name you could see; all the other Founding Fathers looked insignificant in comparison. Or was it John Adams? Must have been George Washington. Who else could have gotten away with hogging all that space?
The wall hit a wall. It was too expensive. It wasn’t really a wall. And it was going to cost a fortune, the press howled. They’ll dig under it. They’ll climb over it. They aren’t coming from Mexico anyway. Nitpickers!
So the next day he signed another Edict. Build the pipeline! Jobs! But there weren’t that many jobs and veterans had come out against it last time it was proposed.
So the next day he tweeted he would send the Feds into Chicago. “I’ll send in the Feds,” he tweeted, his tiny fingers tickling the tiny keys like he was a doll’s house pianist. “I’ve always wanted to say, ‘Send in the Feds.’” Now he wondered what Feds were and how they would go in. Horseback? No, that was cavalry, right? Parachutes? They’d wear fedoras and have Tommy guns. He was sure of that. “Rat-a-tat-tat!” he said and mimed the St. Valentine’s Day massacre. Tinkerbelle came over and stroked his “hair” until he settled down.
The next day Klepto signed an Edict keeping everyone out of the country who didn’t come from a country where he had a Big Top. He didn’t tell anybody he was going to do this, so a lot of people had already gotten on planes and got a big surprise when they landed. Others had undergone a two-year vetting process and were sent home from the airport after having sold their houses, if their houses hadn’t been destroyed in the ongoing warfare. Others had served with American troops during the war where the other people’s houses were destroyed and were in deep doo-doo with those people and really needed to get out of the country. They got send home too. And some were American citizens and Green Card holders who just wanted to get back to work on time. No dice.
Huge crowds of protesters gathered. Legal papers were filed. Klepto’s own Attorney General said she wouldn’t back him, and would have told him so before he signed the Edict. He went on Twitter to call her a cunt and fire her.
On Saturday, he picked a fight with the President of Mexico. On Sunday he met with the Prime Minister of England who, he was surprised to learn, was a woman. “And net even a ten,” he told the media. They made kissy faces at each other for the cameras and Klepto held her hand as they descended a staircase. He explained it was difficult going downstairs in clown shoes. “I imagine going up must be harder,” she commented. He asked to hold her hand as they descended but near the bottom, he did a prat fall and pulled her down on top of him. Then he grabbed her pussy. Klepto looked at the cameras and bragged, “I always keep my promises.” Of course it was a lie.
Back in the White Home, which had been redecorated to look so exactly like the Ivory Tower Klepto didn’t really know where he was, Harlequin asked why Klepto was pushing himself so hard.
“I learned two things from TV. First, if what you’re watching is boring, change the channel. Second, everything you’re watching is boring. So keep moving. You’ll be so busy trying to figure out what’s going on you won’t realize you’re not understanding a thing.”
Like reading about Klepto? Wouldn’t it be great to see him too? Contribute cartoons or other artwork and I’ll put it on the site. Let’s see what this Klown looks like!
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