Caribbean Crackdown
by Donald Trump

“Is he back in charge in the Philippines?” I ask

“No sir. He’s still a prisoner of the International Criminal Court in The Hague.”

“Tell him to call me when he’s out of jail. I don’t like talking to losers.”

“That’s about what I told him you’d say, but he insists he has vital information regarding your safety.”

I grunt and pick up my phone. “Hello, Rodrigo. I’ll give you five minutes max.”

“I won’t need nearly that long, Mr. President. You know how much I admire you, and I always felt you approved of my anti-drug campaigns in the Philippines, so I urge you to be careful.”

“I command the most powerful military in history. Other people better watch out for me.”

“I’m concerned, sir, that you might end up in the cell next to me. I was executing drug dealers on the streets of my country. I had good sources, too. You’re blowing up people in small boats in the Caribbean.”

“They’re criminals.”

“My attorneys tell me that according to international law you could be convicted of mass murder. I understand why you want to prevent the narcotraffickers from poisoning your country, but you better have evidence in case Air Force One ever has mechanical trouble and you have to land in a hostile nation.”

“You think I’m going to fly into Venezuela? I don’t have to. My missiles have blown up five or six boats and killed about thirty bad guys in the last month.”

“I know, Mr. President, and I commend you, but I guess you’ve heard that two or three people may have survived your latest attack. What if they can prove they weren’t trafficking drugs?”

I glance at Marco Rubio and shake my head. “Listen, Rodrigo, I’m positive my intelligence reports and instincts are infallible. Besides, what the hell if I did make an honest mistake? My B-52’s are terrifying the Venezuelans just over a hundred miles from their borders and my CIA is already conducting ground operations inside their country. They’ve got more oil than they need. I’ve also publicly said I may invade. President Maduro and his thugs don’t want to fuck with the United States. Too bad you didn’t have more power, Rodrigo, but there’s only one Donald Trump. I’ve got to go.”

“Please try to help me, if you can,” says Duterte as I hang up.

I motion for Rubio to come here, and he hustles to the presidential desk. “Listen, Marco, Duterte’s right. I’ve got enemies everywhere. I may have to bring back the draft.”

“I’m in awe of your bravery and insight, Mr. President, and confident you’ll protect us during the many coming crises.”

George Thomas Clark page on Amazon