Tales From The Campaign Trail: Trump And The Baby


The campaign trail can write the best tales. Push us to our very edge. Change each and every one of us. Make us our best or our worst. This tale is no different.



Let’s face it, Donald Trump has had plenty of mainstream media woes as of late. Depending if you’re a believer in polls or not, things aren’t looking that great for him. Just to be safe, Trump has let the rubber meet the road. In order to get his numbers up and to appeal to a broader range of folk. To that end, Trump is visiting town after town, and letting them know he is still the man for the job.


Trump had been on the road for hours and was absolutely famished the evening his campaign bus rolled into the parking lot of Vern’s Tavern. A nice little place on the outskirts of Muskakatoon, Tennessee. Donald and his staff members were “Super stoked!” to learn that it was taco bowl night and hurried inside to eat their fill. In fact, they ate all the taco bowls. Even the ones other people had ordered! The patrons were too star struck to stop them. Besides they seemed happy to sip beers and munch fries with a presidential candidate in the room.


However, something was missing. At that point, The Donald realized that it was a great opportunity for some Trump-appeal. The gears inside his head creaked and lurched into motion. His eyes squinted to aid in the darting motion they were making as his eyes jumped from side to side. With lips pursed, he felt a moment of doubt. Like he wasn’t able to find what he was looking for. That is when Trump spied the baby at the bar.


The red vinyl booth let out a groan as the great weight was lifted and Donald slid out. Trump approached the baby much like a hunter armed with a pocket knife would approach a deer. The baby didn’t seem to notice – later it would seem that the baby had other worries on his mind. For that moment though he seemed completely enamored with the brown bottle of macro-brewed rice lager sitting in front of him. His tiny little baby hands nimbly picked at the condensation soaked label. Once Trump had gotten in range, the baby turned and looked directly at him thoroughly unimpressed. There was a whispered exchange which was followed by head shakes. A visibly tense moment followed, the baby brushed the paper wrappings off the bar and nodded.


That is when Trump turned to the everyone and announced, “I asked him if I could kiss him!” The crowd whooped and whirred like a high school basketball game had suddenly broken out. Trump waved his hands in an effort to hush the crowd. That is when the establishment owner, Vern, began to wave his hands back and forth in response. Soon after, everyone was doing it, except the baby. Trump put his arms at his side and looked like a displeased father. Once they realized they were not to answer by waving their hands in the air like they didn’t care, they quieted down. With that look that Trump gets when he concentrates really hard – it’s kind of like duck face, but more accurately, turducken face – he looked over the crowd, then spoke. “He said no!”


“Kill that baby!” someone roared as other crowd members booed. Followed by someone crying out, “For the first time in my life I wanna legalize abortion!”


Trump waved his hands once more. Once the audience hushed, he spoke “I know all of you are mad and you work hard. When you come to the bar, you expect to see a man kiss a baby. Sometimes, things don’t go the way you planned. They aren’t as ‘uge as you would have liked them to be.” At that point there was a fatherly grin on his face. Like he was speaking to the ugliest of his children. “We worked out a deal though. It’s going to be great, you’ll see.”


With that, the crowd burst into yelps and gasps of edge of their seat astonishment. No one knew what could possibly happen next. A different Vern fainted, taking a table with him and sending its contents flying. As quickly as the commotion started, it ended. A hush fell over the room as Trump and the baby raised arms. In a moment of pure bliss, their hands collided in mid-air. A slap that made on looker’s hands tingle in empathy. Time slowed and some thought they heard the gates of heaven open – especially if the gates of heaven sound like a high five. In that moment both hands remained suspended, everyone could easily do a size comparison of Trump’s hands against a baby’s. “You know what, they don’t seem to be that small. I think he definitely had the upper hand at least.” Said another patron named Vern.


Unfortunately, the baby was not available for further comment only saying that, “I had better head home because I have to be at the coal mine early in the morning. You think these lights stay on if I just stay here, high five some joker, and drink away my woes?”


Join me next time for some more Tales From The Campaign Trail.


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