MY neighbour, who saw me leaving for America, and knows I have the former US President’s ear, called out to me from his window, “You think you can talk to Trump, Bob?” “What’s it about this time?” I asked wearily. “American universities don’t have my daughter’s course anymore!” he said, “She plans to do architecture!”
“They’ve got that in every alley in America!” I said, “Each kid there wants to be a Frank Lloyd Wright!” “No architecture courses anymore!” said my neighbour’s pretty daughter, popping her head out of her window. “I know America…” I said firmly.
“Like the back of your hand, right?” winked my neighbour, “But looks like the back of your hand isn’t like it used to be, because there’s no college of architecture anymore, for that matter, there’s no college or school for any subject in the US except..”
“What?” I shouted. “Except gun fighting, pistol shooting, revolver training, nothing else!” whispered my neighbour, “Ask Trump, who helped convert America into a shooters academy!”
I was a worried man as I left on the flight to New York. Trump’s private car was outside the plane, and I saw my fellow passengers looking at me with envy as I got into his limo and shook hands with the former President sitting inside, “My neighbour…” I said. “Wants his child to get into a school, but finds there are only shooter schools here!” completed Trump.
“How did you know?” I asked surprised. “Every call I get outside this country is about that Bob!” said Trump excitedly, “But in one move as the previous president I’ve been able to make our country the popular academic destination for just one course..”
“Shooting!” I whispered. “Yep,” said Trump grinning at his driver in the rearview mirror, “And now every ‘Merican kid wants to go back to school and learn ‘bout dem guns! We have water pistol learning in kindergarten, air rifles in primary and straight into rifles and stuff in high school! And have you been reading the papers? They’ve started practisin’ on their own schoolmates!“ We passed an NYU college campus where students were wheeling out a huge cannon, “That’s actually a missile loader,” said a pleased Trump, “and today two city colleges, are gonna do a battle unto death!” “You started all this, when you were the president?” I asked incredulously.
“Yeah, I tried to make America great again!” We ducked again as a gun roared a few feet away and shrapnel hit me. Bleeding, I scrambled into a taxi that would take me back to the airport and back to my gun-less country where only simple problems like my neighbour’s pretty daughter’s admission existed.
“What’s happened to the back of your hand?” asked my neighbour staring at my gunshot wound the next day. “Like you said, it isn’t like it used to be!” I whispered, looking towards the US with a shudder.
