The opening bars of a classic Motown tune, overlayed with polite applause and laughter, announced the arrival.

Hunter appeared in the real Oval Office, dressed uncharacteristically in khakis and a polo shirt, with a preschooler in tow. The little girl was wearing a jersey dress, crocs, and a hairband. Her forehead was unnaturally large.

“Hello, Finnegan,” said the child.

Finnegan started and turned and looked at the girl, then at Hunter with a mixture of revulsion and disbelief.

“No. What the fuck? Who let you…”

“Finnegan, say hello to your little sister. I’m trying to get my child support payments reduced, so I’m demonstrating responsibility and involvement.”

“I just threw up in my mouth a little.”

“We’re starting an image rehabilitation campaign for father,” said the girl. “‘The View’ will eat that up, since I’m so telegenic. And they’ll know better than to whine about off-limits questions.”

Finnegan shuddered. There was something not right about the child.

“Yeah, that crypto-bro podcast fiasco was all on me,” said Hunter sheepishly.

“Wait, how do you know about all that?”

“I know lots of things,” said the girl matter-of-factly.

“Sharp as a tack, this one,” said Hunter proudly, smirking at Finnegan.

“So do you go by ‘Navy,’ or ‘Joan?’”

“My name is ‘Enjay.’”

The door to the Presidential Shitter opened, and Joe emerged in a halting gait with a big grin on his face. A long streamer of toilet paper stuck to his shoe followed him, giving him the appearance of a poop zombie. Finnegan managed to step just behind his heel and dislodge and retrieve the rogue paper product.

“Ashley,” he cried, clomping towards Enjay, extending his arms as if in preparation for a hug.

Enjay turned towards the shambling old man, her bright blue eyes glowing unnaturally.

Joe halted and dropped his arms to his side. A wave of clarity overtook his thoughts, and his expression changed to one of comprehension and horror at would happen to him if he touched the little trick-baby abomination who was his youngest granddaughter.

“Hello, Grandfather.”

 

SugarFree is under the weather today and asked me to fill-in, which I am always honored to do. I wish him a speedy recovery and look forward to his return. And here’s that classic Motown tune for you to listen to while you comment. -Tonio