Squinty

“I think that Trump guy’s running for president,” Mom shouted out.

“Yup, he is,” I shouted back from the kitchen.

“So why did he decide to get in?” she called back.

I stopped cutting carrots for the turkey noodle soup I was making, wiped my hands on a towel, and walked into the living room.  “Do you mean when did he decide to get in?” I asked.

“No, why did he decide to get in.”

“I guess because he thinks he can do a better job at being president than any of the other people who are running,” I said.

“Well why on earth would he think that?” she exclaimed.  “He’s some kind of a TV guy, isn’t he?”

“Among other things, yes,” I replied.  “He’s also a real estate mogul, an entrepreneur and a multi-millionaire.”

“So?  None of that qualifies him to be president,” she huffed.  “Besides, I don’t think he looks much like a president.”

“Oh?  And what does a president look like?”

“Not like him.  For one thing, his hair is really weird.  I think he’s wearing a rug.  A real president wouldn’t wear a rug.”

“Okay, weird hair.  Is that it?”

“No.  He’s got squinty eyes and his face is a funny color.  Like he’s got on lady’s makeup or something.”

“I think it’s a spray tan,” I chuckled.  “Anyway, it doesn’t matter because he’s leading in the polls and he already has the most delegates.”

“Well that just stupid.  Who ever heard of a president with fake hair, fake skin and shifty, squinty eyes?  I’m voting for the other guy.”

“And which guy is that?” I asked as I walked back to the kitchen.”

“The one with real hair, no makeup and opened up eyes, that’s who!”

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