Tony Soprano and Donnie Trump

and a neighborly summit

Once upon time two common hoods, Tony Soprano and Donald Trump, were neighbors. One kept a low profile. Another was a real mammalucco. One was in therapy. One should have been.

One Sunday morning Tony walked over to Mar-a-lago and rang the doorbell. Donnie.

Tony! Donnie stood inside his palatial entryway in his bathrobe, sans makeup, behind the single door he opened.  Good to see you, Tony. What’s up? Here to donate to my campaign? Want a delivery of my fabulous sneakers? They’re phenomenal. A Trump 2024 flag for your yard? Anything you like-

You know my father, right?

Your Capo. Junior. Yeah, sure! I know Junior. Does he want to see some classified nuclear secrets again?

No. There’s something else. There is something about Junior you might not have known. He’s a veteran.

Yeah?

World War II.

I can give him an autographed Bible. Would he like that? Some Trump Steaks? Name your price.

You want to tell him to his face he’s a loser and a sucker, Donnie?  He’s down there at the end of your driveway, Donnie. He’d like a word with you.

Trump looked over Tony’s broad shoulder and saw two black Lincoln Continentals on the street. Tony! Where’s my Secret Service? What did you do-

They’re getting a free meal at Vesuvios.

Donnie swallowed hard. He got a chill when he heard Junior’s hoarse voice yelling up from the street as a car door slammed. You coward! You miserable draft dodging Coglione.

The old Capo was carrying a baseball bat.

Tony tugged Trump’s gold robe collar tight around his fat neck. With clenched teeth Tony said, close up and personal, I got news for you, Donnie. Pauli’s a vet, too, you dumb boom batz. You didn’t know that did you? Didn’t think of that, did you, you draft dodging piece of—

Donnie tried to close his door on Tony’s thick arms and wriggle free. Tony, infuriated, reached in and yanked him out of his ridiculous house and onto his porch. Come to papa, Donnie.

Don’t ever touch me! Do not touch me.  I saw you through the peephole and alerted my Proud Boys. They are really going to rough you up. Let me go. I will sue-

Shaddup. Your consiglieres are morons. Your enforcers are sleeping in the shrubs out back. If you get my drift, Donnie. Boom Pow. They’re out. Tony shouted over his shoulder. Yo, Pauli!

Pauli stepped out of one of the Lincolns and slowly walked up the estate’s driveway and stood next to Junior. Pauli was holding an old wooden bat.

Two more Soprano family enforcers got out of the car parked behind their car and stood watch at the end of Trump’s driveway. The handsome one flirted with Melania. She was offering them drinks.

Anyzing to eat? Snacks perhapz?  Ooh, do you work out?

Trump yelled. Melania! What are you doing?! Jesus Christ! You dumb b-

Tony slapped him. There’s a lady present! Now look what you done. I got your crummy bronzer all over my hand.

You can’t do that to me. I’m the President of-

The President of what? Nothing. Except a two-bit freak show. Your Cat Lady Man, Hillbilly Vannilli and Bobby Brain Worms, Junior. You’re the Capo of crapola, Donnie! Crapola!  Capiche?

Trump rubbed his stung jowl. Tony pressed him back against his palatial gold doors. Trump held up his tiny hands, clasped them together and begged. “Just don’t mess up the hair. Anything but the hair.”

Sfigato! Your act is old.

Covfefe!

Covfefe?! What the fuck does that mean?

Trump shrugged. Let me ask you, T-t-tony, what would you do if you had to choose between a Shark or an electric-

Vaffanculo a chi t’è morto!

What?

Go fuck your family’s ancestors. Just shaddup. We’re sick of your voice. You make no sense! Tony slapped him again. On the other cheek.

Hey, that hurts. You’ll pay. I swear you’ll pay. Your name will-

A third car pulled up. A beater covered with faded bumper stickers. Six very old men wearing faded VFW caps and T-shirts bedecked with Purple Heart medals. Three were Black. All six were single-minded about the purpose of their visit. All six were palming their fists and shaking their canes.

Who are those losers?

Veterans of Foreign Wars, Donny. Post 19. Guests of mine.

Jesus. For what?

I invited them to watch.

Watch what?

Shaddup.

Watch what?

Let’s talk Arlington.

Arlington?

Arlington.You couldn’t even pull off a photo-op at Arlington without fucking that up, could you, you coglione! Every Don in every borough is saying you’re an idiot, an embarrassment. No boss calls attention to himself like you do.

What ended up being the story there, Captain Bone Spurs?

The botched Afghanistan withdrawal? No, you dumbass imbroglione! Your botched visit to the goddam cemetery! That was the lead story! La mortacci tua!

What?

Your dishonored ancestors, you boom batz!

How can our familias function if you keep calling attention to the fact you’re a cheap thug? A dime a dozen hood! Deficiente! How does that reflect on mobsters everywhere? Shoving your way into Arlington National Cemetery. Into Arlington! The most sacred holy ground in America. Like a boom batz shoving your way into the front of the line at Communion.  Is nothing sacred to you?

I just wanted to get a picture.  For the campaign. For-

Another slap. Shaddup. Tony grasped Donnie’s chin between his forefinger and his thumb and wagged his flabby, puffy, blotchy face. Can you not read?The sign at Arlington says no partisan bullshit, dumbass.

I got family buried there. Look me in the eye and tell me my great uncle Vito’s a loser. Tell me my great aunt’s kid, Lou, was a sucker. Go on. Say it to my face, you-

Trump said nothing. A gold puddle slowly began spreading at his feet.

Oh, nice. What the Hell?! Hey, Pauli, the big brave man is pissing his panties.

Pauli palmed his bat a few times. Hey, Donnie.

Hey, Pauli? A vet huh? Thank you for your service to our great-

Shove it, Donnie.

Pauli! I thought we liked each other.

Until you insulted a hero of mine. I was a McCain man.

Donald said nothing. His slippers were soaked.

That man was a goddam hero of mine. I wore a copper POW bracelet the whole time he was over there. Say it, fat boy. Pauli swung his bat wide and slapped his open palm with it. Hard.

Mc-mc-mcCain was a h-h-hero. McCain was a hero. Donald was trying to remember if he left his golf clubs by the door yesterday. Could he grab his nine iron and club Tony Soprano and keep him at bay until he grabbed his putter and finished off the other thugs.

Say I’m a worthless yellow chickenshit who’s unworthy to lick his combat boots clean.

I’m a w-w-worthless yellow ch-ch-chickenshit who isn’t worthy to lick his c-c-combat b-b-boots c-c-clean.

First smart thing he said in years, Tony.

Tony grinned and turned to yell in the direction of Melania who was distracted by the flirtatious handsome enforcer at the bottom of the driveway. Can we get a mop up here?

Tony then turned to Junior. Hey Junior, did you see chicken little give a goddam thumbs up among the dead there? Junior nodded and glared at Trump.

Junior did not like that, Donnie. Or your stupid grin. Did you like it, Pauli?

No, I did not, Tony.

How about that shit eating grin, Pauli?

I didn’t appreciate it.

This WW2 vet didn’t appreciate it one goddam bit. How about the insurrection, Tony?

Treason, I’d say. Unforgiveable. Pauli, is that what you fought for?

No.

You, Junior?

I watched men die for this country.

Trump gulped and fell to his knees.

Pauli. Junior. He’s all yours.

Pauli raised his bat. God bless our troops.

Suddenly, police sirens could be heard. The Sopranos men scattered and a shaken and soiled Trump rose up, wheezing, and fled back into his palace. He slammed and triple locked the door. He whipped off his soaked briefs and tossed them into the arms of an unfortunate valet whose name escaped him. Jose? Marco? Mango? He turned to look through the door’s peep hole to see what had saved him. What was the fuss about? He watched police motorcycle after motorcycle zip past Mar-a-lago, followed by four black SUVs with official flags on their fenders, followed by a sight he could not believe. It was the shiny new Harris Walz campaign bus that roared past his tired old estate, on its way to yet another packed arena, where a prosecutor and a high school teacher would joyfully preach about ending this crude, criminal, nasty thuggish era in politics.

Sopranos slang glossary

Boom batz: Lazy bum

Coglione: testicle

Deficiente: Mentally deficient.

Imbroglione: A crook who is full of bullshit

Li mortacci tua!: “Your dishonored dead ancestors!”

Mammalucco: Naive dolt

Sfigato: Loser. Figa is a reference to women’s genitalia.

Vaffanculo a chi t’è morto: Go fuck your dead family ancestors.