Patrick Walts: the short fiction collection

I had a dream that Donald Trump was the president. It was kind of surreal, like existing in the background of a dark and gritty reboot of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous called We’re Rich…FUCK YOU.

Yes, it was all just a bad dream. That’s my truth that I choose to identify with, and no one has any right to tell me otherwise.

Everybody said it’d be a waste of time, getting him blocked. Said that people’d keep talking about him.

And they do talk about him, and I hear it, but I don’t know the context anymore and I don’t care. They’re arguing over a figment of their collective imaginations, as far as I’m concerned.

It’s a little weird when he does a televised press conference and all I see is a roomful of reporters shouting questions at an empty podium, but at least I’m spared the sound…

View original post 234 more words

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s