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aliceslantern · 5 years

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Beyond this Existence: Counterpoint, chapter 18

Summary: After being recompleted, Ienzo vows to do everything in his power to atone for the atrocities he committed in the past. But this life hasn't been easy, and he's plagued with memories and nightmares. When Demyx suddenly reappears, the two discover that they have more in common than they thought, though the secrets in their past might tear them apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post kh3

Read it on FF.net/ on AO3

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Progress took time.

They continued their sessions. Sometimes Demyx talked; sometimes Ienzo did. Sometimes there were tears or anger or both. But gradually, gradually they both began to heal. They found things to do outside in town. Soon the cold became less dreadful.

Ienzo often chided himself for wasting time. The urgency to do good nagged him endlessly. It didn’t matter that he was unlearning years of trauma, or spending time with his partner. There were mistakes to fix, problems to solve. He wondered if he might ever find peace.

He sought Ansem.

Ansem sat at the desk in the anteroom of the lab, bent over a set of blueprints. “Hello, Ienzo. How are you doing?”

“I am well.” His mind was drawn, inevitably, to his encounter with the lexicon and the realizations therein. “What is it you’re working on?”

“Aeleus and Dilan are helping me with plans for a new heating system,” Ansem said. “There is absolutely no reason for us to suffer for another long winter.”

“I should be glad to be warm again,” Ienzo said.

“Is there something else on your mind?” Ansem asked.

“Well… yes. Do you recall our conversation from a few months ago, when I asked to see the data you had collected from the basement?”

“How can I forget? It was the last I saw of you before you fell into that horrid sleep.” He frowned. “I suppose you’re ready to see it.”

Ienzo sighed. “I… believe so,” he said. “Demyx and I have been helping one another in cognitive-behavioral therapy. I was not at a place where I was able to take responsibility for my actions. I am now.”

“I have told you time and again that this is not your fault--”

“Thoughts that are difficult for a traumatized young man to internalize,” Ienzo interrupted, politely yet firmly. “I do believe this will help me find peace.”

Ansem sighed, and nodded. “If this is what you believe you need, then I am happy to provide. It’s all in its own folder on the desktop. Would you like me to sit with you while you read it? It’s heady stuff indeed.”

He shook his head. “I need to be able to process this on my own.” He went over to the computer. It felt strange to return, now that he’d had time away from it. He pulled up a chair, logged in, and drew a deep breath.

The files he’d read all those weeks ago were only the tip of the iceberg. The record-keeping had been extensive, and a lot of it had been hidden, thought lost, corrupted, or classified by certain apprentices (usually Even). But now it was all here.

He did not need to reread what they’d done. He knew it. What he was looking for was something else entirely.

The names of the subjects had for the longest time been redacted, replaced with letters at first, and then numbers. But now it had all been revealed. Either the encryption had timed out, or someone had released these files.

Ienzo shut his eyes and held out his hands.

The lexicon came to him slowly and hesitantly. It had retained the changes he’d seen in his illusion. It looked like one of the fairy tale volumes from Ansem’s study. His psyche surely had a sense of irony. He clutched the book in his hand and started to read the data.

There were their names--dozens and dozens of them. The photos. The biographies and backstories. Not the numbers. The people. He whispered the names under his breath, trying to commit them to memory. He hadn’t seen them as people. Not then.

He read and read until his eyes were hot and painful. Favorite colors. Hobbies. Anecdotes. Life histories. Friends, family. Husbands, wives, spouses, children. In one particularly memorable case, a border collie a young woman insisted carried the soul of her stillborn twin.

He opened the lexicon and asked it to show him one of the subjects. It obeyed. A plan began to form in his mind.

----

When Ienzo found Demyx, he was in the library. Studying. The sight was so surreal he was tempted to take a picture of it on the gummiphone. His sitar was in his lap, and he played a soft melody quietly to himself. But his eyes remained on the book in front of him. For a few minutes Ienzo watched, feeling something like pride.

“How is it going?” Ienzo asked.

Demyx jumped, a discordant twang echoing in the room.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Demyx let Arpeggio disappear. “It helps me remember, if I play,” he said. “Otherwise I can’t focus. If I read a chapter enough while playing a certain song, it sticks. I tried it the other way. I don’t know how you guys learn stuff.”

“Everyone studies differently,” Ienzo said. “So you’re really going to do it?”

“That’s the plan,” he said. “She told me to read these before I came to her for the practical stuff.” Demyx shifted the books around. Anatomy, magical theory, botany. Organic chemistry.

Ienzo kissed him lightly.

“So what’s going on with you? I figured you were working on something, but I don’t know what.”

“Well, actually, that’s kind of why I came to find you.”

“The score? Ienzo, you realize I can just read it to you, right?”

He shook his head. “Not that. Though I would like to know what’s in it, if you’re not afraid to share. No.” He took the lexicon out from under his arm. “I’m afraid there’s something only you can help me with.”

He smirked. “What was it you said? “If you want to be alone with me you need only ask?””

“What? Do I really speak like that? Never mind-- no, this is something else.” He sighed. He was just going to have to spit it out. “I want to go to the basement.”

Demyx paused. “Okay. Two things. First, not a great idea, all things considering. Second, why me? Why not Ansem or Even or someone else who was involved in the experiments?”

“You’ve got a weapon.”

Demyx paled. “So--let me get this straight. You want to go to the basement--where it’s crawling with Heartless and god-knows-what-else, not to mention where you’ve seen enough horror to go gray prematurely--”

“I haven’t gone gray. This is my natural hair color.”

“Babe, the last time you remembered something half as horrible you went kinda ballistic. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I’ve healed since then,” he said. “I have this--” He held out the lexicon. “And I have my power, whatever it means. I think the only way I can find peace is by helping them.”

Demyx exhaled, exasperated. “And do you really trust me to defend you? I’m out of shape, and I have no idea how strong the Heartless down there even are.”

It was becoming clear. “What is this really about?” Ienzo asked. “Are you really afraid of a few Heartless?”

He looked down, and was silent for a few minutes. “I guess not,” he said. “I just… I’m afraid that going down there and seeing all that will change how I see you. And I don’t want that to happen.”

Ienzo took his hands. He had a point. “I know that. And it might change your mind. But I… I need to do this. I hope you understand.”

He didn’t say anything for such a long time that Ienzo nearly left. Finally, he said. “You’d do the same for me. Alright. Let’s free some ghosts, or whatever.”

Ienzo kissed him. “I love you.”

“I can’t say no to you. But you knew that.” He marked the place in his book and set it aside. “I’d feel better if we got some supplies. And if you rested. You look exhausted.”

“So tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Tomorrow.”

---

That night, he read the files in the lexicon, trying to memorize as much as he could. Demyx set off to get supplies from Even, and when he came back, his expression was taut. Ienzo attributed it to nerves. He, himself, did not feel so nervous, which was odd. “Did you get everything you needed?” he asked.

“Oh, plenty,” he said breezily. “How do you feel?”

“Surprisingly, not as anxious as I thought.” He shut the book and settled down in bed.

“Can I… stay with you tonight?”

Ienzo frowned. “Of course.” He lifted the covers and let Demyx crawl in. He felt himself being drawn close, held tightly. It made sense that Demyx was worried about him. “I’m not sure why you felt like you had to ask. You scarcely sleep in your own bed anymore.” It was nearly too conspicuous; there were a few times where Demyx was seen coming and going from Ienzo's room.

“Dunno. I figured you might want some time alone.” His voice was a bit dull.

“I have spent a lot of time thinking about this alone. I don’t mind the company.”

Demyx looked up at him, with a degree of hesitation. He kissed him once, but if he had any more reservations he didn't voice them.

Ienzo slept, though timorously. He ate a good breakfast. Demyx packed the bag of supplies. The morning was warmer than it had been in ages, and he wasn’t sure this was a good omen or not. He put on his lab coat over his sweater. Tied the purple ascot around his throat. It had been so long since he’d worn such clothing that it felt a little constricting.

“You sure you want to do this?” Demyx asked.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

His eyes were sharp and serious. “Lead the way, then.”

They went down and down and down, several floors below the lab to the last locked door. The plain steel door stared back at them. Ienzo reached for the keypad, but found that he could not punch in the numbers.

“Did you forget the code?” Demyx asked, not without a hint of hope.

Ienzo summoned the lexicon and tucked it under his arm. And then he typed in the number.

It was all exactly how he remembered it.

The lights flickered on in a bright, fluorescent cascade, all the way down the hall of cells. The first few rooms were offices. All of the spaces were ravaged, ransacked; Ienzo could not tell if this was from the subjects, or from Ansem in his determination to destroy the data. Papers littered the floor. The dank, barren, black and silver doors of cells stared them down. All were open. Each, Ienzo knew, was identical--cot, sink, toilet, chair. The room was bright, but he felt as though he were squinting to see. The thin scent of smoky darkness began to permeate everything.

“They smell us,” Demyx said. Ienzo had been in fights with Demyx before, in the Organization, the rare few times they’d been paired for a mission. The higher-ups had seem fit that there was no reason for there to be two intelligence officers on the same mission, and kept them apart once they realized it was inefficient. (The fact that Zexion had complained about him seemed irrelevant.) He’d seem Demyx fight--his bearing, his cowardice. Now he was completely different; guard up, at attention. He’d brought his arm in front of Ienzo, who pushed it away.

“Not yet.”

They crept forward cautiously. Ienzo waited for the battering ram of trauma. The memories trickled slowly. Walking these halls with Xehanort, offering the prisoners (that was the right word) ice cream. Maybe it was the lexicon’s influence, or the fact that he was here to put this all to bed, but Ienzo did not feel the same helplessness as before.

“There’s no one here,” Demyx said.

“Don’t speak so soon.”

An amorphous blob of darkness materialized at the end of the hallway. They watched it form and twitch. Ienzo couldn’t be sure, he he could swear that its silhouette was more humanoid than the usual Shadows. A Neoshadow, maybe?

More darkness gathered, slithering along the floor in splintery streaks. The first jittery Shadows came out of the cells.

“Freaky,” Demyx hissed. There was a flash of light in his palm. Ienzo saw the Keyblade for the first time. To his surprise, he could see Arpeggio in its folds and curves, in its coloring.

One of the Shadows shuffled towards them.

“Stay behind me,” Demyx hissed.

“Not yet.” He crouched down. The darkness on the floor did not start ensnaring him, as he thought it might. “Do you remember me?” Ienzo asked the Shadow. Zexion had always thought that Heartless were incapable of any feeling or understanding. But they were what was left of hearts, the very embodiment of negativity within. It had not, after all, tried to attack them automatically.

It cocked its head.

“I was little then,” Ienzo said. “Not anymore.”

The Shadow twitched and shuddered. A few more peeked out. “What are you doing?” Demyx asked.

“Giving it the Sora treatment.” He exhaled. “Put that away. We’re not here to hurt you all. Isn’t that right?”

The blade in his hand trembled a little.

“Demyx?” Ienzo prompted.

He let it disappear. Raised his hands in acquiescence.

He looked deep into the Shadow’s gold eyes. “You’ve been here for such a long time, so alone.” The lexicon opened to a random page, of a little girl. “Isn’t that right, Jamie? That’s you, right?” He held the book out to the Heartless. It seemed to stare at the page within, of the photo. “I wanted to apologize for all we put you through.” Keep talking. Keep talking. “There was a bad, bad man. He made all the people around him sick with evil. And they took it out on you. On me, too. And my friend next to me. That doesn’t make it right, but the bad man’s gone and everyone wants to help you.”

The Heartless seemed to convulse.

“I can’t imagine it’s fun down here. There’s nobody and nothing to play with. But there’s another place with lots of friends waiting for you.”

The Shadow raised a claw.

“Ienzo,” Demyx hissed. Ienzo held out his hand.

The Shadow placed its claw on the photo of the girl. It was not twitching anymore, not in the way Heartless usually did.

“Do it now,” he whispered. “She’s ready.”

Two quick cuts. They watched the heart rise and disappear.

“Oh my god,” Demyx said. “Are you… are you okay? I should’ve given you my coat.”

He looked at himself. There were no rogue threads of darkness, no sign of infection. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”

“How many are there?”

“Left? I’m not sure. But these aren’t ordinary Heartless. This was the genesis.”

The Heartless, having seen all this, did not flee the way they were akin to when their brethren died. They came forward in a lump. They did not attack. They left plenty of space between them and Ienzo.

“They’re making a line,” Demyx said.

“They want to be free.” He smiled. His eyes were watering. “Who wants to know who they are?”

It must’ve taken hours.

He showed each Shadow that came forward their profile. He explained what happened and he apologized. Each time, the Heartless seemed to spasm, and then stopped twitching; Demyx would free the heart. Ienzo was not sure if he were channeling his own powers somehow, but he felt himself getting more and more tired. The process was rough on both of them; he could hear Demyx breathing heavily, though he didn’t complain more than to say he was out of shape.

One by one, the Heartless were set free. The smell of darkness grew weaker and weaker until it was nearly gone. Ienzo felt sweat at his brow, and a fresh headache budding behind his eyes. Was it merely tension?

“Is that it?” Demyx asked hoarsely. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Yes, that was--” He crunched the numbers. “Ninety-nine.” He furrowed his brows. “There’s one left. Maybe it’s hiding? Can you handle one more?”

“I think. You?”

He nodded. When he stood, his knees shook, and Demyx helped him up. “Why did they forgive me?” Ienzo asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The bitterness… they just let it go. Without fail. There was not even one rogue Shadow that tried to attack.”

“They’ve been here ten years,” Demyx said. “That’s a long time to suffer. Sometimes you have to let it go to make the pain stop.”

He looked at his trembling palm. “I see. I… understand.”

Demyx glanced over his shoulder. “I think we’ve found our stowaway.”

It was the humanoid Heartless, the first one they’d seen. They approached it slowly.

“We’re here to help,” Demyx said. “Do you want to go be with your friends?”

The Heartless seemed to consider this. Ienzo held the lexicon in front of him. The last file--where was it? Was it missing?

“Ienzo,” Demyx said nervously. “Maybe start working your magic, yeah? My buddy here seems a little agitated.”

The Heartless’s claws twitched.

“I can’t--” He started manually shuffling the pages. “I can’t find their--”

The Neoshadow hissed. Demyx drew his Keyblade. “Come on. Let’s talk this out,” he said. “I’m offering you a get-out-of-jail free card here, friend.”

At the sight of the weapon, the Heartless s creamed, despite the fact that Heartless had no facilities to do that . They leapt at Demyx.

Ienzo’s mind was spinning, his headache pulsing in time with his heart. Hasn’t Ansem retrieved all the files? Hadn’t he read them all? Something wasn’t making sense.

Demyx was holding his own against the Heartless, guarding himself against the attacks. He didn’t play the offensive. They kept screaming.

Something clicked.

Ansem hadn’t been ravaging through those files. The Heartless had.

#beyond this existence: counterpoint #ienzo #demyx #zemyx #demyx/ienzo #beyond this existence

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radioleary-blog · 6 years

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Trump vs. Mueller: The Interview

First of all, congratulations on reading. It’s a dying art, like soap making, or scrimshaw, or critical thinking. These are all dying arts. I knew a girl who made psychedelic T-shirts to sell at Phish shows, but that was more of a dye-ing art. Did I have to start this column with a pun? “Oh yeah!” And I say “Oh Yeah!” just like the Kool-aid man. You know the Kool-aid man, right? I like his style, smashing through the wall of your house and doing thousands of dollars in structural damage and creating an insurance nightmare that will drag on for months. Not sure how a somehow sentient being who is made of glass and liquid can smash through concrete, but that’s the way it is. Never underestimate the power of sugar, I guess. And what was the deal that his face was made only of condensation? That sounds like a hellish existence, I’d probably be insane enough to try to commit suicide by smashing my glass body into cinder blocks and cement too.

Second, thanks for reading my column, you’re clearly a person of virtue and accomplishment, destined for greatness and getting lots of hot sex along the way.

Let’s get into it. One way or another, Trump is going to sit down with Robert Mueller. And we here at The Satire Day Evening Post, in cooperation with the RADIOLEARY Broadcasting Podcasting Association, have spent enormous amounts of federal grant money (that would have otherwise gone to the needy and blind) in order to research and predict the outcome of this interview. Using predictive algorithms and analytic software designed with reverse-engineered alien technology from flying saucer crash-site retrievals, along with a veritable army of prognosticators, dowsers, gypsy witches, remote viewers, seers, visionaries, mediums, extra-larges, sooth-sayers, shamans, telephone psychics, peyote salesmen, and fortune cookie authors, we have what we feel to be a complete and 100% accurate transcript of the Robert Mueller Donald Trump interview.

So look into the future with us, and someday soon we’ll say, “Hey, it wasn’t that far off.”

MUELLER: Mr. President, I want to thank you for coming here today to answer some questions. You had stated publicly many times how you looked forward to speaking to me under oath, and here we are. And all it took was an invitation. Followed by a Grand Jury subpoena. Followed by 11 months of litigation, and a year of well-orchestrated media attacks on me personally, attacks on the integrity of the Russia investigation in general, and the entire FBI and Justice Department.

TRUMP: It was my pleasure.

MUELLER: Now, I know that your legal advisers were worried this interview would be some sort of a “perjury trap”, but I assure you we just have some straightforward, simple questions we hope you can answer for us. We’re not looking to trick you or trap you in any way. Now, if you could just state your name for the record, please?

TRUMP: Yes, My name is Donald Trump and I’m guilty of treason.

MUELLER: Wait...What? May I remind you you’re under oath?

TRUMP: Oh right. My bad. Can I get a do-over on that one? I’m calling a mulligan.

MUELLER: Look, I.. okay, sure. Fine, whatever. Could you please state your name for the record?

TRUMP: My name is Donald J. Trump. And I’m guilty of treason. See, I almost forget the “J.” there for a minute. They told me you were tricky, but you can’t trip me up that easily, I’m a stable genius. You have to get up pretty early in the morning, if you want to see my insane Twitter rants. Okay, that’s take two, make sure you use take two, when is this episode going to air? I hope it’s sweeps week.

MUELLER: Did.. did you just say you’re guilty of treason?

TRUMP: Yep. They told me this interview was a perjury trap, that you’d try to get me to lie under oath, but I’m too smart for you. I’m like, an intelligent person. And I’m guilty of treason. Not lying. You can check. I am so completely guilty.

I committed treasonous acts against the United States and the people of the United States, I engaged in a criminal enterprise and conspiracy to overthrow the government, and I’ve served as a puppet dictator for a foreign power adversary. So by the U.S. military code of justice, I’m facing some very serious charges. I’m a baaad hombre. A tremendously bad hombre.

And I probably shouldn’t say this, but… I know where the Lindbergh baby’s buried. Hey, I didn’t kill it, I was just a boy at the time it happened. My dad killed it and I just held the ladder. It was a good thing I was there to hold the ladder or that baby might have fallen!

I probably shouldn’t have said that last part, but the lawyers said I couldn’t lie. You’re not going to trip me up that easily, Fox Mulder.

MUELLER: I’m former FBI head Bob Mueller, Mr. President, not Fox Mulder from the X-files.

TRUMP: Oh thank God it’s not Fox Mulder! That guy is really good with conspiracies! You mean I’ve been sweating it all this time for some guy named Bob Mueller? I don’t know who that is. I’ve never seen him on any shows, and I watch a lot of TV. I mean a truly amazing and tremendous amount of TV. Well, that explains why I haven’t seen Scully. She’s smart and sexy, like my daughter. The hot one, I mean.

But Fox Mulder? You know, it seems tio me that if Mulder just got on the internet for a few minutes, he could look up the information for himself and see that flying saucers are real. Because there’s like, three thousand physical trace evidence cases of UFOs that have been investigated and documented. And tens of millions of first-hand eyewitness statements and testimony, photographs, film and video, radar recordings, and Pentagon releases of classified military incidents and encounters with UFOs.

And I guess somehow this Mulder guy, who is supposed to be the FBI agent in charge of all this UFO stuff, somehow missed that in 2002 The French government, one of our most trusted NATO allies, released a position paper from the Defense Ministry that concluded that UFOs are extremely advanced extraterrestrial technology that poses a serious threat to national and world security, a threat that can violate our airspace at will, and for which we have no defense. But Mulder? He’s got a poster on the wall in his office that says “I WANT TO BELIEVE”. He’s more incompetent and unqualified for the job than I am!

Anyway, Mueller is it? Nice to meet you, Mr. Mueller, I’m guilty of treason. Extremely, very guilty of treason. You know, I’ve still got the gun I killed JFK with. Me and Ted Cruz’ dad.. It’s still got my fingerprints on it, too. But you’re never going to find it. Never in a million years will you ever find it. It is so well hidden, so fantastically hidden, that there is literally no possible way for you to ever find it. It’s buried four feet directly under the ninth hole on the Mar a Lago golf course. See? Not going to catch me lying.

Can I just say I am the Manchurian Candidate? Because you’re not going to trip me up! I’m a stable genius. You know, people say my mind… That’s what they say. They look at me and I hear them whisper “His mind..” and they just sort of trail off, and shake their heads in a shocked and horrified way. I think that means they’re impressed.

Anyway, next question, Mr. Mulder. By the way, that was very brave of you and Scully to fight that swamp monster during the hurricane in that abandoned motel. I’d have run, that was very scary. Like, Scooby-Doo scary.

MUELLER: <sighs audibly, takes off glasses, closes his eyes, and pinches the bridge of his nose> Yes, We had quite a time with that swamp monster. And the one we’re after today.

TRUMP: I think you actually beat The Apprentice in the ratings with that swamp monster episode. But I can’t lie, we were losing to Urkel reruns on Nick at Nite. But I’m a TV star, a big stable genius TV star - won Presidency - first try!!! Except for the time I ran in 2000 for President as the Reform Party candidate and lost - which I do not remember! So technically, I’m not lying when I say I won on the first try. Next question, Scully.

MUELLER: Mr. Trump could you, in your own words…

TRUMP: Hold on - in my own words? Yes! I do that all the time, I use my own words that I made up myself, like ‘bigly’ and ‘yuge’. I have the best words. I own a dictionary, and I don’t know if you know about dictionaries, but they have many, many words, like probably most of the words there are, you can find in a dictionary. But they’re very boring to read because they bunch they words together by whatever the first letter is, for some strange reason. Makes for a tough read, I quit by the time I hit ‘Aardvark’. Very strange book. I’ll go see the movie if they make one, it’ll have everything in there! You know, a lot of my words aren’t even in the dictionary, that’s how good they are , they can’t keep up! I also own a thesaurus. I own the best thesaurus, the Thesaurus Rex. Thats the king of the Thesauruses. I’m lucky to have one, they went extinct a long long time ago. In a galaxy far far away. You know words are just made up of letters. You arrange them and they make words. Although sometimes they don’t make words, like that little guy Superman foung, that midget from another dimension, what was his name? Mr Mxyzptlk? That’s not a word, it makes no sense, I tried to pronounce that one all through my 30’s. So yes, I will tell you in my own words. That I’m guilty of treason.

MUELLER: Well, I…

TRUMP: I should probably be court-martialed or something, or at the very least fired. Ooo! Can I fire myself? I’m very good at firing people, I used to do it for ratings. Well, I still do, kinda. I want to do it, I’ll look into a mirror and say “You’re Fired!” it’ll be great. No, we’ll do like a two camera shoot, where we’ll film me once getting fired and then another shot where I’m firing me. Like in the Six-Million Dollar Man where he fought his exact replica? Or when Captain Kirk fought the imposter Captain Kirk? Or any one of those TV shows where the guy fights the exact replica of himself, but you only see the back of the one guy’s head, because it’s obviously a stuntman who only slightly resembles the guy? I think the guy Captain Kirk was fighting was Salvadoran, but what can you do, they had a limited budget.

Mr. Mulder, let me just say this: I’m going to build a wall. Between myself and the Justice Department. It’s going to be a big, beautiful wall, like, yuge, and you’re going to be on one side of it, and I’m going to be on the other side. Because I’m thinking about fleeing to Mexico. Lots of bad hombres there, they’ll never notice one more.

MUELLER: Now tell me about this secret meeting between the Russians and Donald Trump, Jr.

TRUMP: Donald Trump, Jr.? Never heard of him. Doesn’t sound familiar, sorry. Is that anything like Carls Jr.? Because I like to eat lunch there. I’m scared of being poisoned by some unknown poison, so I go there where I know the poisons I’m getting.

I never heard of this Donald Trump Jr. fellow in my life, believe me. Believe me. And you know who you should always believe? A guy who’s always begging for someone to believe him, because no one ever does. Nope, never heard of this Donald Trump Jr.. But if he’s anything like me, he’s guilty of treason. Not as guilty as me, though, Believe me.

Most treasonous President ever! You know, in his whole eight years in office, Obama never came close to being the least bit treasonous. I guess he was too busy out on the golf course, playing golf like, one-tenth as much as I do. And still I have time for the treason. I can play ten times the golf Obama did and commit ten times the treason, that’s how effective I am. You know Mar a Lago is a Spanish word, it means “Lake of Treasons”. It where we all hang out and commit treason. It’s on the menu at the restaurant. “Hmm..I’ll start with the subterfuge.. A side of sedition.. And for the entree, I’m going to go with the treason.”

MUELLER: Mr. Trump, there have been recent questions as to your mental state. On more than one occasion you’ve referred to yourself publicly as a stable genius. Now, I’m not aware of a single instance where an actual genius ever once referred to themselves as a genius. Not in public, not in their memoirs, not in the heat of passion, never. It seems the one defining trait of an actual genius is never calling themselves a genius. In fact, only yourself and Wile E. Coyote have ever used the term ‘genius’ self-referentially.

And Wile E. Coyote was not a genius, he couldn’t even eat a bird despite having a limitless budget and access to defense industry-grade weaponry. He had state of the art advanced technology weapons that would put Tesla to shame. You know, rail guns, particle beams, and still couldn’t eat that goddamn bird. For a fraction of what he spent on any of those super- electro magnets that could pull an ocean liner out of the Pacific Ocean a thousand miles inland to the Arizona desert, he could have eaten every damn bird he wanted. He could have had them delivered roasted. Every day. For just a fraction of what he spent on tech in any given episode. Where was his money coming from, by the way? Paul Manafort? I’m going to have to look into that.

TRUMP: I don’t know about any of that, all I know is I’m guilty of treason. You know Melania hates me, right? Even before she found out I was banging a porn star while she was having my kid, whatever his name is. Schuyler, maybe? Anyway. I’ve been finding shards of glass in my porridge. Melania swears it’s a Hungarian recipe. That’s why I’m always eating KFC, I’m not scared of being poisoned by spies, I’m scared of being poisoned by a trophy wife.

MUELLER: Well, I have just one last question, on a lighter note. In your experience which was harder to win; The Presidency of the United States, or Celebrity Apprentice?

TRUMP: That’s an easy one - without a doubt - Celebrity Apprentice. You just look at the major talent and intellect that it took to win the Celebrity Apprentice: We had that Piers guy who got fired from CNN like ten minutes later. I think L’il John made it to the finals. Look, it takes country and western singers and Joan Rivers to win Celebrity Apprentice, but an insane, incompetent asshole like me can be President. So what does that tell you?

You know, Lou Ferrigno almost won. And I almost made him Secretary of Defense. My plan was, we sneak him into North Korea, as part of the negotiations, then we get him mad! We just get him mad, he turns into the Hulk, big, bang, boom, he kills L’il Kim. Kim jong Il? Kim Jong Dead. And look at it, the worse thing is he nukes us, but then we have an army of new Hulks from the radiation. Win/win, Scully.

MUELLER: Wow. Why don’t we break for lunch.

TRUMP: Sounds good. By the way, did I tell you…

MUELLER: I know, I know, you’re guilty of treason. But I knew that already.

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