The flight was long. Like really long. Hours and hours. And it was fucking cramped. I couldn't stretch out at all. We were all on top of one another. I guess there was some logic to that, but all I kept thinking the entire time was Jesus, I wish I had control of this thing. If I did, I'd loosen my own binds myself. And maybe I'd think about loosening some others'. Maybe. Nah, never mind. Fuck 'em.
It's only now that I'm sailing through the air, my limbs forcibly untangled from those of the others, that I've been able to feel any sense of freedom at all. So here I am, swinging in the sunlight, waiting to be donned.
While they stacked us in containers to ship us off, we overheard them talking across the cardboard that covered us and all the way through the shrink-wrapped plastic that jammed us together where we made imprints on one another. They said we'd be going far. They laughed at the destination. I didn't know what to think.
I am perched now on French manicured nails, and the woman who faces and inspects me speaks with some sort of accent that I recognize but — oh God — that voice — where is that voice from? I know it. I'm facing downward, otherwise I might be able to see the face it comes from. Damn. It'll come to me. Ugh. Why can't I remember? This is gonna drive me nuts. Batty. Pun intended. I promise I wasn't sewn up anywhere near those wet markets.
Ok she flips me around and holds me by my strings which I'm guessing will soon be tied tightly around her head. Oh shit — whoah — she's a little rough with me — ok. There. Settled. She stares at me and I clandestinely stare back. Jesus H. It's Melania. So, ok. I guess I can deal with going on her face and covering her mouth. Here's to hoping that she puts me on upside-down so that I don't have to see his ugly mug right-side-up. At least I can hold on to that fragment of denial. She holds me up to the light and begins singing, gently at first, and I don't recognize the song till the lights go out and the candles are burning right under me! It's the freaking happy birthday song - the song with the cheesiest melody in history that only spans a half an octave yet no one can ever sing it in sync, including today. Jesus — she just almost gave me another heart attack — that biatch swoops me down over the fire, laughing gleefully as I nearly lose my shit — but she's just kidding. Haha, joke's on me. Or so I think. Until the real joke hits me: she's moving through the room, I float through the air on strings held by her hands, and a giant, orange face with bagging, sagging semi-circular whites under the eyes… and OH. MY. GOD. Precious God. Don't tell me… NO… NOOOOOOOOO! Why must I be destined to cover this mouth-of-the-century with its crooked-ass teeth and lies whose toxicity is only rivaled by its halitosis?!?! What did I ever do to deserve this?!
I swear I'd sell my soul to be a muzzle.
