I have endeavored in this ghostly little parody, to raise the ghost of an idea, which may be a bit more complicated than the target of the comedy can understand. May it also not sour the mood of too many during this, the festive time of the year. May it haunt the world wide web for years to come.

 A Complete Stranger

 A.F.

December 2020

Epstein’s Ghost

Epstein did not kill himself… I mean was dead: To begin with. There is no doubt that. His Cellmate was removed, the guards did not check on him regularly, the nightguards fell asleep on their shift, the cameras malfunctioned, and his body was removed from the cell before being photographed. I could go on about the weak nature of his sheets, and the opinion of a renowned physician, but Trump was not sure if the Clintons where involved, as he recalled, “I know he [Bill Clinton] was on his plane 27 times.” And that Clinton was, “a very good friend of Epstein’s”. Old Epstein was dead as a coffin-nail. 

Mind! I only changed the common expression, “dead as a door-nail”, to spite Dickens’s comment about door-nails not being the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. Alas, the wisdom of the ancestors that resides in the simile is not as sacred to me and I do not believe this disturbance shall be the undoing of our nation, as 2020 has proven fully capable of doing that these past eleven and a half months. So, you will therefore permit me to repeat the line, Epstein was as dead as a coffin-nail.

Trump knew he was dead? Of course, he did, how could it be otherwise? Trump and he had, HAD, been friends for I do not know how many years. Trump, like Epstein had a large some of money, they both owned private jets, they were neighbors in Palm Beach, and they attended the same parties. But even Trump was not so cut up by the event, but he promptly stoked the idea of a murder conspiracy soon after and said, of his cohort, Ghislaine Maxwell, "She's now in jail. Yeah, I wish her well. I would wish you well. I would wish a lot of people well. Good luck. Let them prove somebody was guilty."

The mention of Epstein’s death brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Epstein was dead, this must be distinctly understood or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Marley was dead before the story began, there would be nothing more remarkable of his appearance in that small frigid room, in Scrooge’s abode, literally to astonish the old bloke’s weak mind.

Trump had not been friends with Epstein for many years. But some would still guess to venture Money stays with money. And Trump! A dim-witted, loud- mouthed, belligerent, covetous, older sinner! Dense as lead, and just as cancerous; Eloquent, as warped vinyl heavily aged in the suns embrace.

Once upon a time, of all the good days in the year, on Christmas eve, Old Trump sat busy at his desk in the white house. Despite being the day before Christmas at three in the afternoon, the COVID-19 Pandemic left the president busy with phone calls and talks about the recently released vaccines. In the office with him was Medical advisor to every president since Regan, Anthony Fauci. 

“You really should keep you Christmas dinner to just your immediate family”, Fauci said from behind his mask.

“I’m not letting Sleepy Joe’s go to war on Christmas and remove the Christ from our Christmas.” Trump remarked.

“Biden has yet to be inaugurated, sir. You really must stop blaming everything on Past and Future presidents.” Fauci said.

“Fake News! I have never blamed anything on Biden and Obama. Now, silence I need to make a call” Trump Retorted.

Trump dialed a few numbers on his presidential phone.

“Merry Christmas, uncle… How are you taking your loss?” An unsure Mary Trump said on speak phone.

“Fake”, said Trump “News”

“Fake news, Uncle?” Mary began, “Surely you can’t be that dense”

“I am loved by so many, and there have been cases of rampant voter fraud.”

“Uncle, if you have called simply to incite arguments, I will not indulge you. You should be getting ready for Christmas.

“I am the most festive person in this entire house. There has never been a president with more Christmas spirt than me!”

“If you truly embodied the spirit of Christmas, uncle, you would be making sure those in most need of assistance during these trying times were able to support themselves and their family during the pandemic. A single twelve-hundred-dollar check was not enough to provide those out of work sustenance for six months. You are as much as you were at three years old: Incapable of growing, learning, or evolving, unable to regulate your emotions, moderate your responses, or take in and synthesize information.”

“FAKE NEWS! FAKE NEWS! You have such scathing words, niece, I am surprised you do not pen a second book. Good afternoon, Niece.” With a heft slam, Trump disconnected the call.

“As I was saying,” Fauci continued, “we have to pass another COVID relief Package. Americans are out of work, suffering and dying, during this most festive time of the year.”

“All I’m hearing is, the Do-Nothing-Dems don’t want to support our stimulus package.” 

“That package only provides tax breaks and funds to large business and the rich, sir. People are dying!”

“Well, if they’re gunna die, it is what it is. Now if you do not mind, I am going to prepare for Christmas eve dinner. Tonight, Melania is getting us Christmas macs. Its where they take a big mac, and they put red AND green ketchup on it. I don’t know how they do it.”

Being unable to squeeze blood from a man denser than any stone, Fauci prepared to leave.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting Christmas day, then?” Trump remarked

“If convenient.” Fauci replied

“It is. If no one gets tested tomorrow, there will be no new cases. It is a win-win. Christmas: 1. Kung-flu: 0.”