Interview with Trump's Wife!

Illustration by Elle Brooks - Writer & Writing Coach, Artist, friend of mine

Robyn: It's hard to believe she's here today, folks. But I promised her $2 billion, and she believed me. So let's welcome the centerfold of recent controversy, Donald Trump's third wife, Melania! Melania saunters onto our stage, depressed, sultry, and promoting the slogan: "Black Words Matter!" Welcome, Melancholia! Welcome!
Melania: Tanks yous. I no, how you say? play girly-eyes! She smiles intensely and bats her lashes. I no play girly-eyes!
Robyn suddenly realizes what Melania meant to say and nods. I see. You didn't (slowing to enunciate) pla-gi-ar-ize. Then what was all that hoopla about, Melanoma?
Melania: Hula hoop, I likey, but I no play girly-eyes. I use riders. They cop-peed from, how you say? Michael Angelo Osama Bin Laden peach. She nods and smiles proudly, while waving her sign.
Robyn: Moronia, sweetie, you're not smart. Is that right?
Melania: No. I no smart. I tall. I be 5 pound, 11 feet tall. She smiles and shifts to the side. The camera zones in on her infinitely long legs and perfectly sculpted, reminiscent-of-Pippa-Middleton-but-lacking-a-semblance-of-youthful-perk butt.
Robyn sighs and wipes a droplet of saliva from her chin. Consider this, Melons, you're married to an orange mofo who's threatening humanity. He's more sexual towards his daughter, Ivanka, than you. God I feel disgusted right now.
Melania: Vodka good. I likey discuss too. It good God. It good.
Robyn, slightly exasperated: Oy, Millenia. Fifteen years not enough to learn property English? Okay, I break down. Your husband piece of *bleep* and you a grown woman - Robyn steps closer to Melania, her eyes nearly touching Melania's boobies. You choose to be sex-object for money. This no good model. Husband tries bring hate and destroy world with Penze. How this good?
Melania: I like Penis. Penis good. I no play girly-eyes, my husband first Black man Present. Melania waves her sign proudly. I no play girly-eyes! My husband he work hardly. Robyn nods in agreement. He tell me stay down and shutty up. He like top. He carry about our two color girls Sushi and Malaria. Is good. She waves her sign proudly again. Backwards they matter! she shouts, as she's escorted off the stage by the NRA, KKK, a cluster of other White redneck mofos, and...Wait, how'd she get there? Martha Stewart, dressed in tight-fitting red leather lingerie and slinging a pair of hand-cuffs. Martha stops momentarily to flip-off Robyn before scurrying to catch-up with the others who've paraded out the exit doors.
Robyn looks at the camera and shrugs. Sorry?!