Trump was befuddled this morning, more so than usual. It was evident in his lumbering gait, which was, against all odds, heavier and clumsier. His lips were quivering. His brows tensely furrowed. This meant he was thinking. Thinking like a caveman obsessed with terminal cancer.

He was hearing extra voices in his head. They were getting in the way of his binary code of logic, instead of 0 and 1, yes and no, with an occasional maybe peppered in. It was enough of a hindrance that he needed the relief of a Diet Coke®.

He passed Democratic Congressman of California’s 33rd Congressional District, Ted Lieu, in the hallway. Trump addressed Lieu, “Hey, do me a solid and grab me a Diet Coke®, chop chop.”

Trump nearly fell backwards when he heard, “Chop chop? What the fuck kind of racist are you, aside from lazy?” It took all his strength to blink his eyes in disbelief, that’s how feeble he is. Lieu’s lips were not moving. How was he hearing this? “Have you been working on your ventriloquism?”

Lieu shook his head in disgust and stormed off. Trump heard, “Great, lard ass is senile too.” It sounded just like Lieu. Trump slowly realized what was going on. He could hear the thoughts of Asian men. Like everything else Trump does, he immediately tried to exploit it.

Trump called for a staff meeting. After briefing the subservient weasels, he demanded a summit with all the Oriental leaders. His words, not mine.

This story takes place in 2018, right before Trump first met Kim Jong Un. Of course, North Korea intelligence found out about Trump’s new powers by tapping into his unsecured private phone.

On the fateful day the dotard met the rocket man in Singapore, Trump walked in confidently, ready to read Un’s mind and claim victory. Kim Jong Un had a larger smile, for his mind was filled with the greatest love poems ever written accompanied with promises that he would set these words to paper in the form of a letter.