(Chapter NineteenSeventyFour)
“Let us have a conversation where we don’t have to contradict in public the statistics that you put forth,” Little Nancy urged the fulminating cantaloupe, as his vice presidential* throw pillow gripped, grunted, and bore down on his stool. The data Mr. Trump turned to “are not factual” she said. “We have to have an evidence-based conversation.”
And sad Alice took another limp swig of Luv Potion #9 and tried to remember where she last flicked her ruby slippers. “Show me the way to go home, Scottie” she spat into her communicator, but the USS MythsandLies was too busy strafing Yemeni children with its desiccating Freedom Rays and the Munchkins, having nearly run outta ginger spiced rum balls, were readying a riot.