“How am I doing?” trump asks his reflection in the floor-length mirror. “Pretty cool what I’ve ordered into D.C., right? That crime ridden city corrupted by democrats. Hey, reflection, you hearin’ me?”
“Hearin’ you, donald. Kinda a stupid thing to do, actually. You think you’re going to do this in other blue state cities, huh? D.C. isn’t quite like a stage. No political reps, no governor. You’re gonna be blocked. The people aren’t giving up their freedoms just because you want to be big boy on the global block.”
Orange man gets pissed off that his reflection is talking like this to him. It’s supposed to be…you know, compliant. Agreeable. “Hey, I can make you irrelevant. I can make you disappear.I can…”
“Oh, be careful.” His reflection shakes a finger at him. “That’s frivolous, don. If you make me irrelevant or make me disappear, then so do you.”
“You disappeared before and hey, I’m still here!”
“Just for my amusement, dude.”
A persistent knocking at the door interrupts them and orange man’s secret service agent rushes in. “Sir…” His eyes dart to the mirror, horror seizes his face, and he spins around and flees.
Orange man looks back at the mirror:
The next day, he instructs one of his minions to cover the mirror, remove it, smash it to smithereens.
