I want your lunch money. 10% of it.

or 125% of it or maybe 220% of it or...

Donald Trump was the little boy’s name. He was 7. I was 7. It was lunchtime recess. I was outside playing with my friends on the Kew-Forest School playground. Having bullied everyone in our class, Donnie Trump was a freckled friendless predator always scanning the playground for the weak and vulnerable, shunned and avoided by everyone.

On this occasion he decided I was his target. I couldn’t avoid the spoiled lummox. As soon as he walked our way my friends scattered. He grabbed my shirt collar.

Hey shrimp.

Hey Donald. Let go of me. Jerk.

What did you say? Come here short stuff.

Oh, great.

I want your lunch money. 10% of it.

No way.

Way, Pee Wee.

Make me.

I don’t make trash I burn it. And I’m going to burn you by raising your fee to 100% of your lunch money. How do you like them apples?

I ain’t paying you a dime. Hey, what gives. Stop shoving me. I don’t have that kind of money on me.

Shut up, shrimp. Here’s my last offer. 25%.

But you wanted 100%.

Pay me 25%.

My head’s spinning, dumb ass.

Okay. Pay me 23.7%. And that’s generous. I’ve killed 2nd graders for less.

Go to Hell. You just wanted to charge me 100%, now it’s 23.7%.

You’re crazy, you orange freak!

That does it, punk. I want 237%.

What is it? 237% or 25% or 10% or a gazillion percent? You’re totally bonkers! We all talk about you. No one likes you or your orange hair. What’s with that weird orange bronzer you wear? And the way you comb your hair like it’s 1959?

Shut your stinking face. I’m raising your fee to %125. And that’s final. That should teach you to mess with me. I’m King of the playground. Everyone else on this playground only pays me 10%, you loser. But, you-

King of the playground! So you think!

Bow down and pay up.

You’re nuts. You’re just a big fat dumb bully.

Bow down and pay up.

We all talk about you. Trump’s a big loser. Trump’s a big loser. Trump’s a big loser.

Don’t call me a loser. Don’t call me a loser! I am not a loser. I got you cornered, dumb ass. I want my 145% now.

Lucky me. The bell rang and playground monitors pulled the big ape off of me. He never got my lunch money.

Post script

We both grew up. I became a writer who wrote about bullies and their enablers. Donald became President.

Every country feared and shunned President Trump. All of the countries decided, “Who needs him and his country,” just like the kids on the playground long ago. And the countries started dealing with each other and cutting him and his silly country out of all of the deals and playground games entirely.

That made President Donald Trump meaner and dumber.

I recently sent him a text that I thought would be helpful. “Remember me from the playground? You weren’t paranoid back then. And you’re not paranoid now. Everyone whispers about you being a big fat dumb bully and they always have. Everyone makes fun of our poor dumb country now, too.”

He didn’t text back. Years passed and Donald’s country, our country, grew unloved by the world, very lonely and very sad.

I wish all of us on the playground had stood together to teach him a lesson back then.

The End