WITH half of America rooting for the virus, in Trump, and the other half cursing the virus for attacking Trump, the Virus I soon found was nearly having a nervous breakdown. “Interview the Virus!” my editor barked to me without even looking up from his desk. I blinked for a second, because this was indeed as formidable as asking me to talk to St George’s dragon, so with fear and trepidation, I went and stood at the gates of White House and found Virus.
It was nothing like what I had imagined, “I don’t know what to do!” wept the Virus, staring at me balefully, “I thought I’d got a prize catch in getting the world’s most powerful man. I thought I would be the envy of all my brother and sister Viruses but they only look at me with pity!” “What exactly is the matter?” I asked, “After all he’s just another human, and all you have to do is do what you’ve done to everyone!”
“That’s what I thought!” cried the Virus. “I guess getting on to the President of the United States is no ordinary thing!” I admitted, “You’ll need to use a different strategy from us ordinary mortals!” “That’s not the point!” moaned the Virus. “What then is the point?” I asked impatiently, “You’ve got the world in panic, by jumping his mouth and nose, through the throat and into lungs, so what’s different?”
“He’s got me!” moaned the Virus. “Got you?” I asked. “Yes!” whispered the Virus, “Did you see the debate with Biden? Did you see what he did throughout the time, even when it was not his turn to speak?” “Yes,” I said, “He snorted, interrupted, interjected, threatened and hmphed the whole time on air!”
“And that,” said the Virus, “Is what he does all the time! I’m stuck in his mouth, and thrown from one side of his jaw to the other, then onto his canines, nearly chewed by his molars and am exhausted trying to just survive!” “Why don’t you just get out?” I asked. “How?” asked the Virus, weeping, “He’s started wearing a mask! All these months, he didn’t and that’s how I was able to jump in.
Now he’s got himself a fancy one, that has literally made me a prisoner!” I wished the Virus goodbye from the White House gates and made my way back to the editor, “How’s the Virus?” he asked, “Finally giving Trump a run for his billions? Hey, what are you writing?”
“An obituary notice!” I said. “For Trump?” asked my editor, “That’s quite a scoop!” “No,” I said., “for the Virus, it’s being infected by the same mouth that has contaminated the Proud Boys, the Ku Klux Klan and all the followers of the White House patient..!”
