The date is January 20, 2025. President Rafael Theodore “Ted” Cruz, the Canadian Zodiac Killer suspect, enters the Whitehouse for the first time as Commander-in-Chief. He giggles stupidly as he steps into the Oval Office. His patchy beard catching his spittle as his prodigious belly jiggles beneath his faux-working-class flannel shirt.

“Oh boy, are we going to do great things in here,” Ted says to his desk before plunging his face into Trump’s chair and inhaling deeply. Trump’s aides left it here for him, specifically as he requested. He savored the musky, faintly fecal aroma. His crooked member grows turgid, almost pressing against the inside of his trousers.

He can’t take the arousal. “EVERYONE OUT!” his voice cracking as he authoritatively commands his aides to leave the room. They stare at him open-mouthed, but they comply. Ted is assured of his stately presence and presidential demeanor. Kneeling before the well-worn leather chair, Cruz meticulously unbuttons all but the top button of his flannel shirt. Arms shaking, he drags the shirttails erotically over Vienna sausage nipples. Giggling, he says to himself, “Wouldn’t want to get you boys messy”, before throwing his shirttails over his shoulders. He feels majestic. Like Count Chocula from the cereal boxes mommy would never buy him. But now mommy is so proud of him and he can buy all the Count Chocula he wants. And oh does he want.

Ted whips out his phone but fumbles it. Wormlike, he inches across the floor to retrieve it. Retaking his position before the chair, he sniffs again. “Please look into the camera, no face detected”, his phone reads. He looks, poutingly at the camera. He tries smiling. He tries frowning. But still, the phone will not recognize his face as human. He begrudgingly enters his password, “Z0di4c1776,” and it unlocks. He holds up his Whitehouse ID to log into PornHub and navigates to the incest section by muscle memory. Hot Latina MILF Makes Teen Boy a Man catches his fancy. “Teddy’s been a good boy, mommy”, he whines. His hands are clammy and sweating with excitement. As he pushes play, his fat finger slips and the share menu pops up.

“Oh no Teddy you’ve done it again, don’t post it to Twitter like the last time. Oh, X, I’m sorry Elon”. “No, it’s okay, keep going”, says Vice President Musk before crawling back into the armoire, beady eyes glinting through the cracked door.

Teddy’s finger hovers over the X on the share menu, trembling.

Looking forward to Trump Jr. and Eric…

Take his paintbrushes and say black people did it