“Mr. President! Mr. President!” the reporter called.

“You’ll have to speak up!” Donald replied.

“MR. PRESIDENT!” the reporter screamed.

“I can’t hear you!” Donald said, smiling, having heard the stick-thin Buzzfeed reporter just fine.

“MR. PRESIDENT! WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS FOR THANKSGIVING?!?”

“I love the troops. I just love them,” Donald replied. “Tremendous people. Just great. Salt of the Earth.”

“THANKSGIVING!” the Buzzfeed reporter yelled. Four other reporters joined him, their tiny lungs and vocal cords straining.

“Oh, Thanksgiving? Great holiday, just great. Christians love it. L-O-V-E IT!” Donald replied. “I pardoned the turkeys yesterday. They are resting comfortably in Bethesda Naval Hospital.”

“WE’RE THE TURKEYS INJURED DURING THE PARDONING CEREMONY?!?” ten of them asked, holding out their iPhones to record the President’s reply.

“I love turkey! You can’t overcook it enough me for. Gravy and rolls. Just a great holiday. Invented by Indians, I think.”

The Buzzfeed reporter fell on the ground and began to convulse.

“WHAT ABOUT THE IMPEACHMENT HEARINGS, MR. PRESIDENT?!?”

“I don’t like Indian food. Gives me gas. ‘The curry slurry shits’ I call ‘em,” Donald smiled and starting waving to the Secret Service.

“IMPEACHMENT!” they all yelled.

“Fake hoax nonsense scam. Have you seen Adam Schiff? Have you seen this guy? Have you seen him? Total disgrace. Worst-looking guy ever,” Donald said. “No one who looks like that can judge me. Imma perfect genius. He looks like his own asshole!”

“MR. PRESIDENT! MR. PRESIDENT!” started another reporter, a tiny woman who jumped up a down and waved her arms.

“You, the spinner in the back,” Donald said, pointing.

“You accuse Hunter Biden of…” she started.

“Hunter Biden is a cocaine junkie. He’s disgusting. He’s worse than his Dad’s fake teeth!”

“On October 27th, you tweeted…” she said.

“Tweeted? Who can even remember what I tweeted? I had lunch with a hero dog the other day; why not write about that? Huh? Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

“THE DOG CONAN IS FEMALE, MR. PRESIDENT!”

“DON’T DEADNAME MY DOG!” Donald screamed back.

“MR…”

“Dogs and turkeys!” Donald yelled as he turned to walk back into the White House. “Thanksgiving! Stuffing!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Big Mac casserole!”