Donald Trump’s toe tag will be the most glorious toe tag. It will have class like you’ve never seen before. Donald Trump’s toe tag will be made of only the best materials, American-made, never a foreign hand, never a small hand, will touch it. Donald Trump’s toe tag will be durable, a leader, never a loser, manly, it will grab you with its charm, it will grab your pussy, stalwart as a wall, it will make you purr. Donald Trump’s toe tag will have big gold letters trimmed with serifs, a marble finish, it will fly & unfurl like the flag he loved to hug. Donald Trump’s toe tag will make America great again, it will build a wall, it will keep foreign goods out. Donald Trump’s toe tag will give us jobs, jobs, jobs. & only Donald Trump’s toe tag will have the power to do this, with the power of a space force, with pomp & military parades. Donald Trump’s toe tag knows more about ISIS than the generals do. Believe me! All hail Donald Trump’s toe tag! It will have three wives, three little toe tags, & toe tags for his issue, his children who follow in his footsteps. Seventy two virgins in heaven, each with a toe tag. Donald Trump’s feet are tremendous; they will leave a deep impact, make the world shake bigly. They need a lot of room; they don’t need it. The buildings will tremble at a glance of Donald Trump’s toe tag, they will shudder in shame at their inferiority, the towers of Trump rising to their full height—airplane height—the whole globe warms in their reflections. Donald Trump’s toe tag will never pay its taxes; Donald Trump’s toe tag is smart. Donald Trump’s toe tag has broken virtually every record. It plans for the future by focusing on the present. It sends troops to the border. It likes not to regret anything. The coroners will be hungry when they tie the glorious string around his big fat toe, his big pale toe, his big hairless toe, thick nail blackened with infection. Their hands will tremble—respect? fear? malnutrition?—The old guard will look on, the imprint of the letters reflecting in their dampening eyes. The old guard, the taste of Trump’s glory will still be thick on their lips, crumbs of it still between their teeth, with visions of their own, smaller, much less impressive toe tags dangling in the back of their minds. But what will we know of Donald Trump’s toe tag? Will they put it on a stamp? Will it burnish the back of a coin? Will it be surrounded by evidence tape, locked in a secure closet for the duration? But seen or unseen, Donald Trump’s toe tag may well be the most sacred object of our secular nation. Let us praise it. O, hail Donald Trump’s toe tag.
Copyright © 2019 by Roger W. Hecht.
