November 9, 2015
Bernie waited in the upper deck of the yacht. Because of the train schedule, he showed up two hours early. Arriving at the slip, he kicked around the dock and spoke with the dockhands, who, upon seeing his Scotch Taped duffle, tweed jacket, and Yeezy's, kept asking if he was lost.
Bernie felt like he was in the bowels of the enemy, surrounded by these huge ships. Sitting on a dock peg, he watched a Seagull swoop high into the air, a crab in its mouth, and drop it, it's shell cracking on the wooden dock. We must crush the upper class, he told himself. Surrounded by all these yachts, he felt antsy with a want to fight and fight hard. This was the 1%, the crushing first class, and he must take them down. That's why he was here, that's why he was wearing Yeezy's, to bring these moguls to their knees, help them understand the struggles of those below them in the economic pyramid.
As the sun set, Bernie was invited on-board. Waiting in the upper deck, he put a handful of the peanuts offered by the crew in his pocket, eating them slowly.
"What are you doing here?" He suddenly heard from behind him. Hillary had arrived, she strolled up, her short, thick heels clopping on the deck's wood.
"You show up and ruin every party," She yelled, knowing they were alone.
"The Democratic party was already ruined," Bernie snapped back. Hillary's face burned a fiery red. She was sick and tired of this hangaround. Of course he was doing everything 'Millennial,' the one voter group she couldn't wrap her head around.
"For the first time I actually agree with you, Bernie," Donald's voice could be heard as he walked up the steps of the megayacht. "Looks like Kanye invited all of us together to meet him. That's GREAT," he said at the top of the steps.
The three stood together, eyeing each other up and down like dogs in heat. They were a ragtag bunch, but also the future of the world's greatest hegemon.
Kim took a deep breath. She had been to many a stately dinner and had selected a full white dress with a gaping neckline down to her belly button. It had taken two hours for her housemaids to dress her, locking in her ample breasts with a patchwork of body tape.
She and Kanye had great plans for the future. They would be the Jackie O. and John F. Kennedy tagteam of the 21st Century. She would wear white and he would wear black. And in these colorless shades they would rule the world together. Tonight was one slink in a Slinky chain of ideation to their greatest point of victory and world domination, rising like Phoenix, in a burst of fire and feathers, above this world.
Kim walked out onto the deck of the megayacht, where Melania had joined the group, arriving late having wanted to put Barron to bed. "Welcome guests, so great to have all of you here tonight," Kim said. Walking to each candidate, she kissed their side cheek, giving a wide berth around Trump, knowing he had a reputation for being handsy.
"Right this way," she gestured, leading them into the dining room enclosed portion of the deck. White linen lay across the full table and and chairs, the table ladened with gold silverware and trim along each of the plates.
"Kanye will only be a moment," Kim explained as she pointed to each of their seats. The servers appeared. Each with blond hair and pale skin, they wore blue linen floor-length gowns, with white aprons and bonnets. A server for each guest, they approached the table in unison, pouring water into clear crystal glasses.
"Your servers have quite interesting outfits," Hillary commented, politely.
"Thank you, it's a thought piece of Kanye's. They are each in historical house slave attire. It's to help us, in this home, remember that we can't dehumanize other based on our extravagant, superior, all-encompassing wealth. Very, like, humbling," Kim explained, "We are the new slaves."
Suddenly the lights dimmed. Smoke from a fog machine filled the room and the servers moved a thin curtain at the front of the room aside. Light shining from below, a black cross rose from the darkness. I am a God from Yeezus started to play loudly as the candidates sat in darkness.
Suddenly, a light shone from the front of the table, outlining a human form on the black cross. Kanye became visible, in a black suit, tied with black painted ropes to the cross. Black on black on black.
Kanye opened his eyes, the balls the only white, "I am a God," he stated blankly, turning his head robotically. He ruffled his legs and arms from the black rope, jumping from the cross and walking over to his seat, the music fading.
"Welcome guests," he said, arms stretched wide. "I am so happy to have you all here. Thank you for joining me in this dark, twisted fantasy."