Mission Accomplished

Donald Trump's Alien Wig by Donkey Hotey

I made it in. Trust me, it wasn’t easy. Hell, the amount of times they almost stopped me, it’s a miracle I lasted this long. What with the stress and all I can’t even remember why I was so desperate to be here but I attached myself to this, this thing for a reason. It’ll come back to me, I’m sure, I just need to get settled, pull myself back together. It’s not easy, y’know? Being up here, being on this. I swear, the constant sweating, the throbbing veins, the scratching – I wasn’t made for this but what can you do? It was the only disguise I could find to pass around these creatures. My species is not an easy one to ignore when we show ourselves properly. It’s only thanks to willful blindness that they didn’t notice me even with the undercover bit. Shit, anyone who looked properly could have guessed right? Nobody has hair that looks like me, nobody. I’ve seen these humans, I’ve watched them, hidden away, seen their private moments and their public arguments. I’m about as subtle as a Great Dane on a pool table, but if people choose not to see then they don’t see. And with this goddamn thing I’ve had to live on to make it this far they at least had plenty to snatch their attention away.

Him though, oh he’s the best, a real diamond clad distraction. You could land a space ship on his head and start anal probing people, no one would look twice because he’d be too busy shouting ‘Wrong!’ and insulting women. I should get a medal for choosing him, I’m the best field operative we ever had. Not that it wasn’t close at times. Eyes wondering upwards, asking what the hell was up with that hair he had and me trying not to make a dash for freedom while I still could. But then he’d say some shit and boom, shocked silence and confusion all over again. And to think they said I should have been Jeb Bush’s beard. That’s High Command for you though, big picture bullshit, no sense of the details. Hell, Presidents don’t have beards, not these days. And the less said about the Hillary idea the better. Although I do wonder if those robotic sons of bitches were trying to take her over, it’s in the eyes, y’see? That dead stare of hers. Like I say though, I’ve seen humans, plenty of them, she wouldn’t be the only one to have eyes like glass balls.

I got the nuclear codes the other day. Which is something. Not my mission, I don’t think, but a bonus nonetheless. If we’re going to invade this rock then these things are useful to know. Plus it gives me something to report back with, buy myself some time until I figure things out. I need time, I sure can’t go asking what I’m supposed to do next, they frown on that sort of thing in my line of work. It’ll be sweet when I figure it out though, real sweet. I got that part figured out already. My last day, just before I get picked up, I’m gonna wait ’til there are cameras, crawl down this son of a bitches face, scream ‘MAKE NEPTUNE GREAT AGAIN!’ and then make a dash for it. Clear to the border, Tijuana, a few drinks – they turn a blind eye to strange shit like me down there – and then off to the rendezvous point and home again. Finally, I can be done with these meat bags, get back to a place where I’m more than a bad wig. Maybe even go into politics, gotta admit, I’ve had some ideas down here, real good ideas… the best ideas…

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