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Secretary of War Pete “Happy Hour” Hegseth approached the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office and asked the president, “Have you had a chance to read my recruitment proposal for the Marines, sir?”

“Of course I had the chance,” replied Trump.

“What did you think of it, sir?” asked Hegseth.

“I didn’t actually read the damn thing,” retorted the president. “I don’t read. Now, if you’d made it into, like, an animated cartoon or a comic book or a Kanye West song, then it might’ve grabbed my attention. Print is dead.”

“Could I go over it with you now, Mr. President?” asked Hegseth. At Trump’s dark scowl, the secretary said, “It’s rather urgent, sir.”

“Is it more important than taking Greenland?” asked Trump.

“Well, it’s related, sir,” replied Hegseth. “If we… you… decide to put boots on the ground in Nuuk, then it may be of paramount importance.”

“Go on, then,” said Trump, snapping the tab on a can of Diet Coke.”

“I am concerned,” began Hegseth, “that the best men of recruitment age are going not to the Marines, but rather, to ICE.”

Trump slurped noisy from his can. “How do you account for that?” he asked.

“Well,” said Hegseth, if a man joins ICE, then he get forgiveness of his college loans, a $50,000 signing bonus, a free weekend at Mar-a-Lago and free entry in a raffle for a trumpstore.com bling bag. They also are paid three times what we’re allowed to pay our Marines.”

“There’s a reason for the inducements for ICE,” explained Trump. “We want to amass the most awesome, gorilla-ugly, sadistic group of mayhem-makers we can assemble. Also, we need more and more recruits. I’ve set the threshold for new ICE recruits at 200,000 men. How many new Marines are you seeking?” Trump asked.

“By natural attrition, we’ve depleted our ranks only slightly, and need 5-7,000 new warriors.”

“See,” said Trump in an oily voice, “Kristi needs them more than you do. We need the best of the best to take out the worst of the worst!”

“I understand, Mr. President. Is there any inducement I can offer Marine recruits? It’s hard to complete with ICE. It’s not a level playing field,” said Hegseth.

“Level playing fields are for losers and suckers,” said Trump. “I’ll tell you what: I’ll take some more money from the SNAP and Medicaid appropriations and give it to War. Hold a series of raffles; offer free Trump merch.; you know, Trump gilded Never Surrender High Top Sneakers and Trump Steaks; we’ve still got a few frozen, from 1991, I think. How about 20 minutes with Ivanka? About time she earned her keep around here. Signed copies of Trump God Bless the USA Bibles. How does that sound, Pete?”

Hegseth smiled broadly. “That’s doable, sir! Thank you, thank you very much.”

“I’ll go you one better,” said Trump. “I’ll make it more difficult for people to sign up for ICE. For example, I’ll reduce the maximum IQ from 100 down to 79. That should serve both our ends. You need smart recruits, whereas I want denser, more animalistic recruits. Nothing will eff’ up a squad of ICE agents like someone capable of sentient thought. Longer term, say by the time I’m reelected in the 2030s, or whenever the next election is, I’ve got the troops of the future.

“Mueller Henreikh, I call him MH, is the last surviving eugenics scientist from the Third Reich. He made some dynamite longevity drug that I’ve been taking, but, of lesser importance, he has found a way to engineer bears so they can be soldiers, as long as they are only given simple commands. I’ve seen them in action.

“They can handle simple weapons like guns and knives and basic commands like ‘beat protestors.’ I saw one in action against some member of the Fake News that we picked up at a Democrat Party function. Woowee, that guy will never be a father, or walk again.

“All we have to do is feed them Trump Dog Food, and we can make as many as we want with artificial insemination, and accelerated growth. Since they’re bears, I’ve got Bobby Kennedy working on the project. We’ll have 150,000 by next year, and I got the money for the project by shutting down a couple of departments that weren’t Making America Trump Again anyhow. What with my longevity drugs and my personal BA–Bear Army–this will be the Trump Century. The only glitch is, they don’t like wearing masks.”

Since Trump had run out of breath, Hegseth took up the thread: “Additionally, Mr. President, some ICE recruits wash out because they can’t stomach eating raw bear meat. That was another little idea of the HHS secretary.”

“Yeah, Hegseth,” said Trump, “pretty soon you’ll have all the Marines you need, and I’ll have more knuckle-draggers that you can shake a stick at. So,” Trump said, looking up at his SoW, who was now feverishly doing pushups, “anything else on your mind? Anything I can do for you?”

Hegseth shook his head. “No, Mr. President, what you’ve given me already is a wet dream.” He started to move away, then turned back. “Oh, sir, did you ever decide what you wanted to do with respect to the military parade on the nation’s 250th anniversary.”

“When is that, again?” asked Trump.

“July 4th, sir,” replied Hegseth.

“Right. I want 50,000 soldiers marching down Pennsylvania Avenue, in front of the White House…or what’s left of it by then.”

“Any special instructions, sir?” asked Hegseth.

“My Reichsfuhrer, Stephen Miller, is designing a new uniform for our military: brown shirts, gray trousers, steel-toed jackboots and extra-long red neckties. Get with him and dress all the losers and suckers appropriately.”

“Yes, Mr. President. Anything else, sir?” asked Hegseth.

“Get ’em to work on their goose-stepping,” replied Trump, ripping the tab off another Diet Coke. “And put a bounty out on protestors. Tell them that the first sharpshooter to wing ten troublemakers gets a new Tesla. Everyone else,” Trump announced, “gets two of the bloody EVs.”

The End

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