Speculative Fiction

By Jirair Tutunjian

 

The Trump of the House of Orange was scheduled to attend the coronation of Armenia’s King Nikola I but had to cancel his trip at the last minute because of an urgent appointment with Senor Fortaleza Barbari, his private and confidential barber who has signed a document where he has sworn he would not write a tell-all memoir about Trump’s Elvis Presley hair imitation. Today, Senor Barbari has to tame three strands of the Trump’s golden tresses which would not lie low despite half-a-dozen lubrications and massages. After the three rebellious strands were finally tamed, the Trump phoned King Nikol I.

 

The Trump: Hello Nikol. Congratulations. I am sorry I missed your victory party. Being the King of the World brings with it heavy responsibilities.

Pashinyan: I am sure you will be eager to attend the ribbon cutting of TRIPP, the 27-mile rail and highway named after you. It will finally connect Azerbaijan to it exclave Nakhichevan, via our Syunik territory.

TRUMP: Nicky, Nicky…try to speak in English….what is this Nachivan ex-love? What does a former affair got to do with my TRIPP? As you know, TRIPP stands for Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity. By the way, I expect you to thank me for all the expensive assistance I gave you during your election campaign.

Pashinyan: Thank you, thank you, thank you…I couldn’t have won without the sophisticated professionals who taught my men the secrets of a successful election campaign.

TRUMP: “Thank you” doesn’t cut it. I expect a couple of cases of Armenian cognac which Churchill is supposed to have drank regularly.

Pashinyan: Your wish is my command. What is “doesn’t cut it”?

Trump: Nicky, I am too busy to teach you idiomatic English. Let’s get moving. I have a couple of questions re TRIPP that marvelous, wonderful, fantastic bridge highway named after moi. That’s French for “me”…the most precious word in the world.

Pashinyan: I have a couple of questions re the TRIPP contract between the U.S. and Armenia.

Tramp: Long ago, when I was running several fabulous casinos I had an Aramean dealer. Half the time we didn’t understand him because of his heavy Aramian accent. You know, the language of Christ. How do you say “marvelous” in Christ’s language?

Pashinyan: Skancheli. But Mr. President…

Tramp: Scan chilli? Sounds Mexican. Do you have-Mexican restaurants in Armania?

Pashinyan: Mr. President, I read five times the TRIPP contract between the US and my country. I couldn’t understand a single word. It sounded to me that Armenia will carry all the responsibilities but have no say in TRIPP’s management.

Trump: Nikola, no one in the world has dealt with as many lawyers as I have. They talk a funny language which only they understand. Don’t worry about the words. At the end, everything will be hunky doree.

Nikol: Have you read the contract?

Trump: A million times. You own the land but we run the project temporarily.

Pashinyan: Since you say that it’s good for Armenia, I will sign the contract.

Trump: Magnificent. On a personal note…Nicky, you know I own vast and fabulous ocean view lands in Western Florida. All kinds of exotic animals live in them. Because we are friends, I’ll sell a couple acres to you at a fantastically low price. A steal, as we say in Florida.

Pashinyan:  Yes…I can then build my own Mala Largo there and watch the sunset over the Gulf of America.

Trump: That’s the spirit, Nicky. Gotta go, now. Yeerdas barav.