“No way, not that one!” The President was finally getting off his throne-styled bed, finishing his twenty-fifth hate tweet for the morning, and was dressing for the onslaught zone of reporters waiting in the press room. “I want to appear more accessible, get me a printed pink flowered one.”
The groom looked through the lot of assembled ties and could not find anything printed except one displaying elephants wearing MAGA hats. “I’m sorry sir, there doesn’t seem to be any in your closet”, cowering behind the door.
“Nonsense! Get that guy from “Queer Eye” in here on the double! I need to change my appearance if I’m going to win this election! I said, move!”
The servant backed out of the suite of rooms and shut the door carefully. “I don’t know what happened, but if he thinks this sudden change of behavior will work at this late date, he’s dreaming.” The underlings at the president’s beck and call were just grateful not to make another trip to the “Hubristic Haberdashery” again, whose logo was “We can make you look like you
give a sht care, even if you don’t.”