"No cameras. No reporters. Just you and me

"No cameras. No reporters. Just you and me and a cheese-stuffed crust pizza." Trump smiled at her. Sarah giggled and pushed her glasses back. Her hand

nervously smoothed her hair poof as she studied Trump, trying to figure out if he was serious. Sarah's repetitive training took over as she winked at him and said

, "Mavericks refudiate Obamacare Death Panels." But Trump didn't pay any attention to Palin's roguespeak. He was too busy staring at

the window, a flock of crows was massing out on the Hudson. Trump mummered for everyone to get down as a black murder hit the windows. Palin squaked and hid under the desk. Glass

at the bloody heap and decided he was hungry. He took some of the crows, plucked them and stuffed them with a mixture of Cheddar, breadcrumbs, garlic and rosemary, wrapped them in

tortillas brushed with olive oil, then wrapped in tinfoil and baked in a firepit he had dug nearby for 40 minutes. Blackbird burritos made him salivate. But a shadow fell upon

his scales as he waited. Patience, he told himself. It took all day to stalk the bird, he wouldn't ruin it now. He was the greatest hunter of his generation. Using only his

teeth and tongue, he managed to coax the bird from the safety of its nest with a charmingly lulling and melancholy imitation of the bird's mating call. The bird emerged, he aimed

his shotgun at it, and fired. And the first person that was mentioned in this story dived in-between the gun and the bird just in time, sacrificing their life. The bird flew off.