"Have you heard about this groundhog?" Donald asked the crowd of carefully chosen people. "Have you heard about this dirtpig that thinks he controls the weather? Supposedly saw the shadow of a black guy and got all scared. I don't know."
The crowd laughed dutifully as the applause sign blinked overhead. The hair squirmed around so much he was afraid Donald would clamp his hand down.
"This giant rat thinks he controls the weather. The wea-a-thur. I don't think so. America controls the weather. I control the weather. Elections have consequences, rodents."
Kellyanne stood beside him, ramrod straight, her slack face sliding downward like her deflated breasts. She stifled a sigh and peed just a little. Her pelvic floor was a horrid ruin.
"It's Black History Month and I don't think Pugilnastion Phil or whatever his name his should be saying that black people scare him. The inner cities are horrible places. Humans can barely live there. And we have Iran firing in-ter-con-tin-en-tal ballistic missiles full of weather-controlling groundhogs at black people to send them terrible weather. So much for global warming."
Behind Donald, a homeless alcoholic from a film noir sway side-to-side and smiled as he watched a heavily-armed drone circle the city. Steve knew that Steve was going to be alright.