The howling from over in the Cubs section had finally died off. 2017 saw the full restoration of the misery those bastards so richly deserved. The she-devil was safely exiled to Chappaqua and the shake up in his executive staff had settled into a cohesive team. He'd need to hold Caligula on a little shorter leash. Hemingway had been chomping at the bit all that time and he'd never had a clue! Six months later and he could hardly imagine how they had got on without the man! Daily summaries that used to consume reams of paper reduced to three or four pages hastily scribbled onto a legal pad. The man had a gift.
His rugged countenance entered the archway to the left of Satan's onyx table. A slight smile turned at one corner of his mouth, knowing that Ernie would just cut right to the chase of it.
"Boss! Putin on line two. Thursday, Vegas, hookers? Oh! And Trump? Want me to make the call?"
There it was! Everything he needed to know just like that! Jehovah's balls this guy was good! " Yeah, Ernie. Thursday's fine, I'll bring the whores and call who? You mean call Trump? Nah! I'll get him on Twitter. We have a secret code."
Hemingway acknowledged with a smart bow and disappeared to resume his duties and a bottle of Cuban rum. As a writer Hemingway considered his lot here as a reward, not a punishment. It was a respite from the hell of life on Earth. As long as they didn't run out of rum. That was crucial.
Satan pulled up his twitter account, hornydevil@hellzapoppin, and opened the requisite thread, #moscowinthedesert. It would not take long for a reply. His phone chirped twice then he picked up.
"Mr. President! Good to hear from you. How are things?"
"Great! Really really, I mean it's yuge what their doin' there, Isn't it yuge? We are making it great again, that much I can tell you..."
"Well that's fantastic. You know I don't publicize it, for obvious reasons you know, but I was one of your biggest supporters! "
"Well we appreciate that, Satan, really! You know with all that fake news and those Republican dicks in the Senate always stepping in it....its, its....I mean we had no choice! But seriously, okay? With the support from people like you we will make America ...."
"Yeah, yeah, I know! Make America Great Again......I got the ballcap, thanks!" Satan didnt have the heart to tell him that it wouldnt fit around his horns. " So are we good for Vegas Thursday? Vlad is coming and I got the pussy posse. Usual place?"
" .......great again! Vegas. Thursday....do I have anything Thursday? Ah, fuck it! Sure, I'm in!"
"Thats wonderful, Mr. President. See you at seven then?"
"Sure, sure. Hey tell Nixon I said hello, would you?"
"Absolutely Mr. President!"
The call ended there. This was not the first time he had facilitated a meeting between the two. It wasnt the sort of thing he would do customarily, but with so many ties to the Big Apple Trump had won an uncharacteristically soft spot in his heart. The brawler with the impolitic tongue appealed to his nature and he was pretty certain that this was Vlad's impression as well. They were men who appreciated balls. Not in any homo-erotic sense; euphemistically, a respect for testicular fortitude.
No clue as to what this meeting could be about, nor did it matter to him. The petty politics of the overworld had long since ceased to provide any amusement. A bunch of rank amateurs, 95% of whom would one day land in his domain. The vast majority of these would be suited for little more than shoveling shit, a task not unlike their earthly endeavors. Of course the difference in hell is that they should actually get themselves soiled with any of it. The socialists were the most amusing. Wailing on and on through eternity about fairness and justice. He sincerely wished there was somewhere else to send them. He used to send them back up to earth to recycle, but after a couple hundred years that just didn't work any more.
Vegas was a place where Satan could feel at home. He avoided the higher profile venues of the strip, but generally it was possible to travel in their midst and go unnoticed. He had a nondescript three bedroom ranch located in a subdivision on the outskirts of the city that was for the sole purpose of entertaining the likes of those who were not so fortunate in their anonymity. Vlad was able to Uber in from the airport in a grey Nissan Sentra. The driver was permitted entry to the garage and thus was Vlad ushered in unseen. The two exchanged perfunctory greetings after which Vlad headed directly for the bar.
The prick actually had a weakness for Kamchatka vodka and Old Milwaukee. Who would've guessed? After slushing the first glass down he loosened his collar a bit, poured another and fell into a corner of a plushly cushioned sectional. He groaned quietly and under his breath uttered a favoured Russian profanity , yob tvoyu mat', and took another generous draft from his glass, a 32 oz drive thru cup from Burger King featuring characters from the latest generation of Star Wars. Satan was a huge fan. He and Lucas would have a lot to talk about someday.
" So! Devil," Vlad began in his thick Slavic lilt, " where is Donald, eh? And whores? You promise we get fuck, yes?"
"Oh sure, sure! Don't worry! The girls will be here and I'm sure Donald is on his way. You are actually a little ahead of schedule, Vlad. Slow week?"
Vlad rubbed one hand over his pate and uttered something vaguely reminiscent of the Yiddish "Oy!" "That fuckingk Assad! What a baby, unh? Better part of that boy ran down crack of his whore mother's ass!" Satan knew,as only he could, that this was in fact a fair assessment of the junior Assad. The old man, Hafez, had worked out swimmingly in coordinating the efficient distribution of camel shit to the Muslim section.
" Preachin' to the choir, Vlad! I tell ya, the kids these days? I just don't know where we're gonna put 'em all! Give it another sixty years or so and we're gonna have a real log jam down there! Any chance we might renew some of those Siberian leases?"
Vlad eyed his cup, perhaps contemplating a refill. " Hmm. Perhaps we discuss this later." He took another drink,this time smaller, and then abruptly another thought occurred to him. " Speakingk of Assad... Any more of that blond Lebanese you had last time? I am very...tense? Yes, tense is right word."
The devil procured a gilded platter from thin air with a block of hashish, asking " Wood or glass?"
" What? What is wood or glass?"
"Your pipe. Do you prefer wood or glass?"
Vlad's face screwed up into a severe frown. "Bah! Where fuck you learn smoke hash, unh? Just give me small plate, safety pin and glass. I show you how!"
The devil declined to partake, but produced the requested wares and examined his Samsung Galaxy phone as Vlad demonstrated his technique. Nothing new. Disraeli had done exactly the same thing, as well as Marshall MacLuhan, Brian Mulroney and three of the last six popes. He considered for a moment that perhaps it was time to up North American distribution. Perhaps the crystal meth regime had played out it's thread. Maybe not. He decided to just leave the whole heroin thing to finish playing out first. Narcotics were a lot like agriculture. One could not plant the same crop in the same place indefinitely. Once in a while it was necessary to mix things up.
He was looking for a message from the president. He wasn't late, but he wanted a little notice before he would need to go down to the bunker. Trump could never get that damned combination lock right; he would need to open the vault. It was one matter to secret Vlad into this hideaway on the edge of the desert, but with Trump there was a circus everywhere he traveled. Accordingly a tunnel had been installed connecting the unassuming ranch with Area 51. All they had to do then was take Air Force 1 into Nellis AB and then everything within confines of the complex went unseen. It was a bit amusing actually. Did they really think that money was going to build a wall? The fools!
The cloud of haze grew in the room as Vlad proceeded to get thoroughly baked. Shortly after 7:00 the devil's phone chirped, announcing that Trump was nearing the entrance. " Vlad it looks like Donald will be here any minute. I'm going downstairs to let him in so help yourself to anything you like. There's microwave White Castles in the freezer." He heard him grumble something in reply as he excused himself down the stairs.
A few moments later Trump followed up the stairs behind as the devil returned, carrying a bundle about the size of a loaf of bread under his left arm. And as usual he was running his mouth. " Didja see that thing? Geez Louise, that thing is yuge! Great, great tunnel, we built that you know. Under budget and ahead of schedule, you know, because that what we need to make America......Oh! Hey Vlad! I didn't see ya there! How the hell are ya?"
Vlad had risen from his reclined stupor to greet the president in the customary European fashion, a buss on each cheek and then they exchanged a very manly handshake. " Ah, Donald! Good to see you again, my friend! What have you brought for us, unh?" He gestured toward the bundle under Trump's free arm.
" What, this? Just some coke I got from El Chapo's stash. Huh? There, ya see? Like how we did that? I mean we build the wall, you know there has to be a wall. We have no choice and....but.....then we take out El Chapo's organization,see, because we had to do that, right? Yeah, so you take out El Chapo and then your mafia, the Russian, you know.....do you call them mafia? And its all part of our plan to Make America Great Again. Did we get you a ballcap? I'll get one of my people on that...."
" Is alright, Donald. I got ball cap. I must have left in other luggage this trip."
"Yeah? Well...what the hell! We'll send ya another one. You still staying at the Kremlin?"
Vlad shrugged. " Ah, most of time. Like to spend worst of winter months at the condo in Boca, but my people can always find me."
The president had already made his way into the sectional and taken a place to the right of where Vlad had been seated. He placed the bundle down upon a low table where Putin's hashish was resting, extracted a Swiss Army knife from his suit pocket and began cutting into the wrapping. In an instant a couple grams' worth of the snowy powder landed upon the smooth table surface.
" Now this is some grade A coke, that much I can tell you, okay? You should really wanna try some of this, Vlad. You know all the Mexicans love me? Yeah, they all love me..." Trump reached into his suit pocket again and produced something new. " See this? I brought this....you know I got out here on Air Force 1. Yeah that is one big fuckin' bird, I can tell you, but this, this that I have in my hand right here? I had this made special for the occasion, see, here, just take a look at that...."
Vlad reached to take what appeared to be a single bill of currency. Upon closer examination he discovered that it was a $20,000,000,000,000 bill, bearing the likeness of Trump in profile where the pouting lower lip was prominent. It bore the motto "In Trump we Trust". Finally he had found an egotist in the same league.
"What, you are giving this to me?"
" Vlad don't be a fucking moron, okay? You roll it up and we're gonna do a few lines! That's not real money! I just had the mint print it up. Why should it be any different from the rest of the money, right?"
Satan interjected here. " Gentlemen I will leave you two to catch up on things for a time, but we need to get the girls. Could I trouble you for your order?"
Trump snorted up a long line with a loud hiss and rose from the table red faced with a powdered donut mustache. " Oh! Oh! Get me that Bulgarian minx! What was her name....uh...Ludmilla, wasn't it?"
" No, Mr. President. The Bulgarian girl was Draga. Ludmilla is from Byelorussia. Did you want her as well?"
"Sure, sure. Draga, Ludmilla, Natasha, what's the diff, right? You fuck one east European whore you've fucked 'em all, am I right Vlad? Huh, huh? You know what I'm talkin' about."
This was to be expected, the president's tastes already having been well established. His counterpart, the Russian president, had developed a taste for American white trash. " And for you, Vlad? What's your pleasure this evening?"
Putin finished a line of his own and was ready with his own request. " Mmm. I was thinkingk perhaps some Alabama trailer trash, maybe uhh...how you say, uhh dishwater blonde?"
The devil's brow creased ever so slightly at the choice, but he was prepared. " Vlad with Nascar out of season right now we are a little spare on Alabama trash. I'll see what I can do, but I have something else that might appeal. From Beckley, WV we have Bobbie Sue, in the classic red-headed stepchild mold. She's a fresh recruit and already broken in by her four brothers. Or we have Linda Lou from Marked Tree, AR, a lovely ginger-dishwater hybrid with 100% organic double-d cups. She's missing a few teeth, but she's one of the top performers in her division."
"Hmm. I take this Linda Lou girl. I like girl with more experience for to be able to take my large dick up her ass! Ha-ha-ha!"
"Very well gentlemen. If you will excuse me then? The girls will arrive shortly."
As he had promised, so did he deliver. He left the presidents to their debauchery for some hours then returned to rap discreetly upon the doors of their respective suites: a reminder of a looming midnight appointment. A short time later the two executives emerged, a little disheveled but none the worse for wear. The wrapper of coke sat opened upon the table, its content spilled all over. This had been so much easier with Bush. He was just a drunk and the only vice Obama had was the reefer. Oh wait! Forgot about the trannies! Still, this guy was a handful.
As the two men finished buttoning themselves up Satan spoke to them for the first time since his return. " I sincerely hope that you gentlemen enjoyed yourselves this evening, however it is time that we got down to the business which brings us here. Agreed?" The two nodded their silent assent and together all three descended the stairs to the bunker and the entrance to the tunnel beyond.
At the appointed time, 12:00 AM, they arrived at an ultra top-secret cavern, deep within the bowels of Area 51. It reminded Satan a little bit of home. Same landscape, pretty much. Just no furnaces. That was easily remedied, though. A cozy little nook, by subterranean standards, it had vast potential as a future annex to his empire.
Trump began his presentation, his already braying voice amplified within the cavern.
"Now this, Vlad, is the pie, okay? You know, the big economic pie, or well it's our pie, okay, and that is some fucking pie, I can tell you. Anyway, this is our pie. Now as part of my plan to make America....wait. Do you hear that? Thats a great, great echo, you know? Boy I really sound good in here! Don't I sound good in here? I think everybody would think I sound good in here...so as part of my plan to Make America Great Again we have kept this pie, this great big, beautiful American pie, right here, the pie you're looking at right now, okay, and we are keeping the pie here for the 1%, because that is where it belongs, that much I can tell you."
Vlad was growing a little bewildered by Trump's rant, turning to the devil with eyes pleading to rescue him from the aimless meandering. When the devil offered no intervention he lost his patience. " Okay, Donald! Is big fuckingk pie! So what?"
"Well Vlad I am glad you asked me this question, because that is what I wanted to share with you. You see to Make America Great Again....that is a great,great slogan by the way....to Make America Great Again we need to come closer to your model, Vlad. Instead of all of this pie having to be split up by 1%, we want to be like Russher and only share that pie with one quarter of the 1%, okay, like in math that would be .25%. But we have a lot more people, you know, and it's a really yuge pie, compared to the Russher pie, you know. That Russher pie has still got a long way to go, to catch up to....I mean this pie is yuge, right? Thats gonna take some time, but you don't worry about it because Donald Trump is on it,okay, seriously that much I can tell you. And when I am done with my fifteen year term in the White House....."
Trump continued to drone on nonsensically as Putin turned to the devil and asked " When did presidential term become fifteen years?"
" It isn't. Leave him alone, he's on a roll."
".......so we will just keep telling them that the pie is shrinking, see, but it's not really shrinking, okay. And when we get down to that one quarter of 1%, you know, that .25% I told you about? Then we can move the pie to outer space, okay? Then we don't have to worry about hiding it here any more, see, and that will just be better for everyone. That much I can tell you for sure."
" Russian pie is buried under Chernobyl, but did not hear from me, yes?"
"Ha! Donald! See? This is why I like this guy! Next time you come to my dacha!"
The devil was relieved, knowing that he would not be needed to facilitate that meeting.