"That's it. I'm officially out of ideas."

"But, boss..." I chose my next words carefully, knowing the ego of the man with his legs up on a desk carved from a single piece of marble. "no one can stump the Trump."

"Apparently, the American people can." He looked off into the New York night sky with its perpetually glow from lights that never went out. "I've tried everything. Increased the racist rhetoric, they eat it up. Sexism? No one gives a flying fuck. And the thing is, these idiots, these morons blindly bleating my name, have no idea I don't give two shits."

"But, consider the other side, Mr Trump. You achieved your goal. Your profile has never been higher."

"But I might actually win this thing. And as a Republican," the last word oozed out as an epithet, and the Trump looked he had tasted something bad, maybe his personality finally congealed into something palpable. I quickly dismissed the thought as that would require a level of insight my boss hadn't shown himself capable.

He shifted his weight as he brought his feet down, squaring his shoulders at me. "You have any ideas, huh smart guy," he asked, pointing at me. "The fuck do I pay you for anyway?"

"Well sir, that's the thing, I don't personally have anything of brilliance, other than—,"

"I know, and I'm not quitting, the Donald," he said as he pointed at his chest with his thumbs, "is not a quitter. No way I could spin that."

"Well, like I was saying," I had to clear my throat at the preposterous idea I was about to float, "there's this website..."

"I have a million websites, almost have as many of those as exwives, and like exwives," he pointed both index fingers at the desk, "they've never done anything for me."

I heard a sniff from the other side of the room.

"Ivanka, you're the apple of my eye, and I loved you enough to let you keep my name, but your mother's a whore. And a cunt. You were saying?"

"Well, on this site there's a section for creative ideas, kind of like crowdsourcing"

"Okay, I see, go on, this is interesting."

"And well, it's called writing prompts, we could pose as a user, and ask them the question. They'd have no idea you don't wanna be president."

"Brilliant. It's basically me asking you what I just asked, except these people sound like they could be useful. Eric you haven't done anything of note lately, go make this happen and get Ivanka a handkerchief, she's leaking tears over there.

I relaxed for the first time in months as he returned his attention to me.

"As for you, if a forum of internet strangers can do you job, how useful are you?"

I began stammering but it was too late, the Donald had made his decision. "You're fired."