“The asshole is a universal vagina through which femaleness can always be accessed,” Hunter purred into Karine’s ear.

“Stop quoting poetry, Hunter,” Karine said, shrugging off his lingering touch. “I’m married to a woman. I’m a gold star and you don’t interest me at all.”

“I want to jizz all over your hair,” Hunter replied languidly.

“Out, Dad!” Finnegan yelled. “Out, out, out, out!”

“Calm down,” Hunter said.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Finnegan screamed back at him.

“Did I have breakfast this morning?” Joe asked.

“You had cream of wheat, Grandpa,” Finnegan said.

“I don’t remember having cream of wheat. Are you sure I had breakfast?”

“You did have breakfast this morning, Dad,” Hunter told him.

“Is it time to go to bed?” Joe asked.

“It’s 10:30 in the morning, sir,” Karine said.

The Oval Office was hot and muggy, kept like a swamp to make Joe’s dried meat moist and flexible. Mold grew in the corners and cracks and under the layers of rotting wallpaper. Corruption from the heat. Sunlight rarely penetrated the thick bulletproof window to sterilize.

Hunter and Karine and Finnegan warily circled each other in a tense silence while Joe dozed off, his mouth making chewing motions, eating again his forgotten breakfast. Hunter adjusted and readjusted his genitals in his jockstrap. Karine watched despite herself, fascinated by the workings of the twig and berries she had no experience with.

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan, Finnegan thought in her father’s wake. It was her main intrusive thought, sometimes having it running in her mind all day like some demonically literate jingle. She watched Karine watch her father play with himself and thought again about her life, if the promises of the family could possibly be worth this. Not for the first time or the hundredth she thought about the money, the power and if all this could possibly be worth it. Grandpa had been goaded into running for President again. He was the only man who could save the country, they told him. It was imperative he go through another grueling national campaign. It was brave for him to seek to drool in this office for another four years. And important to risk the humiliation of defeat at the orange hands of Donald Trump.

“But I did have breakfast this morning,” Joe mumbled in his sleep.