Couple’s Therapy: Ukraine Russia Edition

Couple’s Therapy: Ukraine Russia Edition

Dah. 

“Now Don-nald, I have to say this is very mature of you meeting me man to man. It’s much (how you say?) much less NOISY without the princess of Ukraine. This is good, no?”

“Well Vlad, “ [Crossing the legs] “I’ve had time to learn this life is more than money. I’ve had my share of big splits… Why don’t you tell me what really troubles you?”

“You know I take care of her for many years and she gives me back my nukeclear rings and say this: ‘Destroy! Destroy!’ You know how the nukeclear ring is forever and I miss her.”

[Trump leans over and puts his hand on Putin’s resting leg.]

“That is good Vlad. Do you know her love language yet?”

“Dah! This is silly. Why you say that? You’re a man.” 

[Trump shakes his head like he is deeply burdened]. 

“Vlad, you know you can chase a woman with cars and necklaces… you might not even like her right at first but you want to EARN her (know what I mean?) “ [Trump shakes his head like an inner memory keeps coming back.] “It’s not for noth’n but until you find out what turns her on you’re just beating the sand and hoping for grapes.”

[Vlad gives a long look for his translator to explore the different meanings. Does he beat the woman or the sand? Why does one beat sand? ]

[The translator and Vladamir are eventually stumped. Putin bites his lip, Trump removes his hand from Putin's leg and puts his hands together in the lower steeple position. If Trump moves the fingers this is considered sinister. Otherwise, the open steeple position reflects positivity, not hiding but translucency, the steeple might also represent a church where people {two people} can become one in purpose and fidelity]. 

“Eh… Look, Trump, I want to love this woman, (you know), she has those big beautiful ports and it is cold in the winter. It would be better for us both if the Black Sea were more sharing. “ [Putin laughs that he can rename it to ‘The Valentine Sea’; he doesn’t care what Google Maps says]. 

[Trump bounces his head slowly, slightly, very reflective, the hair spray is good]. 

“I think you really love her man. She was part of your family for so long and now you can’t help but see she is moving on.” [Trump pivots on his chair, all the weight on one side like he has gas. The Secret Service begins speaking into their wrist microphones to see if anyone has cleared the chairs?]

“Dah.”

[Putin is unshaken by the memories from his youth, how Ukraine provided so much industry, and technology, she had the audere of a young college girl and Vladimir felt so stodgy dealing with antiquated ideas. How he loved to see her shine].

“We get old, my friend.” 

[Putin nods his head and the memories overtake him. He suddenly doesn’t think about the next 20 years of oil exports or his friends telling him that Ministers don’t last forever if their comrade’s yachts are all confiscated. There’s a gleam in Vladimir Putin’s eye when Donald Trump asks him to date again.]

Putin raises both hands, palms up, slightly resembling a Muslim holy act, and says:

“The good ones are all taken. You know d’is true. We can’t go tramping around the glove and making baby trash islands – (Though, I think that was very funny, the one near England). “ [Putin’s eyes are tired, the crow’s feet are very pronounced and the make-up artist comes over to touch him up but the man slaps him off. They are not being filmed, officially].

[Trump puts his hands down on the thin chair and juts up to the top third of the seat, looking like he is going to do chair calisthenics, the President appears starched in the face but Putin is unaware that his men have set any ‘booty traps’.]

[Putin snaps his fingers: ‘Water. Bring Water.’]

He doesn’t have to yell and wants the Donald to live because he saw the Netflix movie written by JD Vance {Hillbilly Elegy} and this man reminds him of a gypsy cossac who joined the Army. These are very crazy guys. The Donald is more fun and Putin likes to give the perspective of being the younger man. It looks like Donald is going to explode while visiting his country, this is very bad. Very bad.

“Hey, Don-nald, you a’right?”

Now the Secret Service comes in to take the American President by both arms. The President scrunches his face and tightens the cheeks so that the lips come up to where the nose had been. Vladimir stands up and looks left and right but the hardening and half-catatonic state of the President still suggests he has room to relax. Putin waits. 

Trump bites his lip something awful, tilts the shaggy head, and mutters, ‘That’s a doozy.” 

The men share an eye lock and Trump whispers, (prostate).

Wait for it…

Putin realizes what he means and claps his chest. “Me too!” He puts his fully extended hands over his own face, resembling a catcher’s mitt, then releases the hands to points above his heart. “Man, I thought you were going to die.” 

Trump painfully shakes his head, “Not today.” 

Putin tells his staff to leave the room, leans in, and whispers, “I got State-approved Fluffers to take care of those needs.” 

Trump realizes what he means and says, “No. NO. I love Melania and you love Ukraine.” 

The President puts his hand on the lower parts of his belly, the gastrointestinal cycle is converting space for the growing prostate. The President has ballooned in the belly by only ten percent but feels like a 300 lb skater on their first rink of ice. “Oh… give me a minute.” 

[Putin paces furtively. He looks at the floor, looks up to give advice, thinks about five different medical treatments, and thinks about passive-assailing with ‘the Great Country of Russia for the advanced engineering of the prostate protection.’ No. This must pass. It is painful to watch. Putin realizes that if Trump dies then he would be stuck in the room with an angry Marine with real power and half his age. Putin definitely prefers thecompany of an older man.]

Trump slowly, bitterly returns to his seat, still holding the side of his stomach which has the most bubbling. The Secret Service wants desperately to reschedule the meeting and Trump feels the heat of timing rising to the pressure points beyond the eyes. The center of his forehead is begining to drip the foundation makeup because the American President must always be ready for the Camera. 

“Water?”

Trump intimates that water makes it worse. It just has to pass. 

Putin tries to joke, “You know Sergey {Khrushchev} didn’t actually lose that argument about Cuba, he had the gas.” Trump isn’t ready to laugh. “You’re Jon Kennedy was a Navy but he was also, what you say? Woman-whipped. He could not do what he said he would do.” 

Trump exhales in Pain, “I already read the file. Don’t tell me you shot Kennedy. It hurts.” 

The Secret Service of the United States has the sworn duty of protecting the President. In medical emergencies, they must ascertain if his mental faculties have been compromised, and then they ‘clear the table’ (which could mean almost anything). In this case, while active combat persists and the future of 180 million people hang in time, {⅓ of Ukraine is now gone}, along with necessary fuel discussions, land rights, “Who gets the kids?” and the further discussion of unspent nuclear missiles – the Service must stand down, hands on holsters, communicating, updating, debriefing. They have no direct authority to stop multi-national summits. 

Putin wants a scotch, not Vodka, he has grown accustomed to the woody after-taste, the way the opening bite is cool and gentle like Ukraine Kisses. The way that scotch flows freely in most of the west and doesn’t have the trade-off between deforestation and distillation – [Putin is pacing] “It takes over 2 hours to get a Soyuz {rocket} into Kazakhstan! TWO HOURS.”

Space Command launches the Russian space rockets over in a second country to enjoy the slingshot effect of the Earth closer to the equator. The primary reason is to save money on fuel, which Russia has in abundance, but there is always a weight: payload diminishing marginal return. That is to say that the man who grew a hot pepper in space, (for his taco), cost the United States taxpayers over 127,000$ for the transportation of water. Thusly, saving fuel on liftoff actually allows for other items to be brought, which is why someone might say the weight is different from the payload. 

Trump groans and winces but it’s almost over. 

“You want a place to put your missiles?” 

[Putin stops pacing and comes to a stop]. 

He looks long and hard but won’t say what he really wants. The love affair with Ukraine could be over if he had other… options. 

“Dah. Ukraine is too high. You’re right. My country needs something lowly, something equatorial because we have to keep up with Elon, right?” 

Trump opens his palm and lets the idea fly away. He’s on one knee near the chair, sure the pain will pass in a moment. It’s not the pain that goes away with milk of magnesia, it’s not a large enough swelling to mandate surgical options. It’s just one of those growing pains. The Service put a bright red MAGA hat on their man so he doesn’t have to even consider his disfected hair while he’s kneeling. 

Vladimir kneels at his own basic conference chair because fair is fair. He waits for Trump’s blue eyes to return their tractor-beam glory. He waits. 

Finally, the two men are both on at least one of their knees, as if they were going to propose marriage to their chairs, two world leaders take a knee (not to their God) but so that they can keep eye level in a state of mutual agreement, the minds must meet on the same plane. Half of these meetings are completely known without words. 

Putin moistens the lips and pretends there is a fish in his brain aquarium, sloshing, sloshing, the poker face dissolving. He has learned so much chasing the love of his life in Ukraine for three years but time is fleeting. 

The Donald is tired of exploring the heart of Russia and is about to adjure his professional instruction.

Then Putin takes a last look around for unwanted ears, he arches slightly forward, stabilized by his chair, the ears tighten to the face and he longingly asks, “What about India?”