Donald Trump’s dress rehearsal revealed

News organizations repeatedly have referenced a Donald Trump “dress rehearsal” before federal agents showed up to find and to seize government documents the former president shielded from being returned.  I have it on good authority the dress rehearsal went something like this:

Trump pulled out a bullhorn and bellowed to the assembled staff on the lawn of Mar-a-lago,  “We have FBI agents arriving tomorrow.  This is our last chance for a dress rehearsal.  My great review of bigly Broadway show tunes also will remind all of us how to conceal documents.  Places now.”

 Staff scampered to operate spotlights and boom mics. Melania Trump, dressed in a low-neck peasant dress emblazoned with “I Don’t Care. Do You?,” sauntered to Donald Trump’s side for the opening number. A small orchestra struck up the title tune from Oklahoma.

 “Mar-a-lago.  Every night my trophy wife and I.  Sit in different spots, and hardly talk.  Hiding documents around this place,” crooned Donald.

 “I must have to lie for this man,” warbled Melania. “And this man is unnaturally tan.”

“Cut, cut, cut,” screamed Donald, waving at the orchestra to stop. “That one needs a lot of work. Let’s move on to the staff chorus number.” Gardeners, valets, maids, and bodyguards assembled in a loose clump as the orchestra struck up the most famous tune from The Fantasticks.  A valet with a strong baritone sang:

Fail to remember when asked in September,
When agents flow and show subpoenas,
Fail to remember when asked in September,
About storeroom locks and who was in there,
Fail to remember when asked September,
You must be a forgetful fellow,
Fail to remember; you must not remember,
Just swallow, swallow.

Trump clapped.  “I like that one.  Let’s do my number from that musical about President Hamilton.”   Melania leaned toward an aide and whispered.  “Hamilton was never president, but you can’t tell Donald anything.”  Donald nodded toward the orchestra director and began shuffling and singing:

 No one else was in the room where I hid it
The rooms where it could be
The rooms where I showed it
No lawyer goes in the room where I hid it.
The room where it once was
The room where it is now.

No one really knows about the docs I steal
The art of the deal
How the sausage gets hid
We just assume Saudis got a peek
But no one else gets in the room where it happens

Trump finished the song abruptly, and signaled all back onto the lawn stage for the big finale, a variation of the closing from A Chorus Line.  They sang and danced in unison.

 None, nothing to be found here
Every little bit is gone
None, nothing that is not ours
Every document sent back
One oversight and suddenly nothing’s wrong
You know you’ll never pin this on you-know-who
None, nothing classified here
Declassified it in my head
It’s really our stuff but, none, son
Oooh! Sigh! Give me your attention
Do I really have to mention there is none.

The former president  appeared satisfied as staffers repeatedly bellowed “none” into the humid Florida night.  He whispered to an aide.  “I lived in New York long enough to know how to razzle-dazzle them.  Trust me, this is going to be no problem.”