The Free Clinic - CHAPTER ONE
Donald Trump had been putting it off, putting it off and putting it off again. He had to get his ass down to the free clinic before something really bad happened. Not that it wasn't bad enough already. Maybe they'll prescribe Viagra if he'd lucky.
The Nurse Practitioner who ran the weekly clinic at the old armory on Kingsbridge Road and Jerome Avenue checked his blood pressure and blood sugar. He was watching her reaction and he didn't feel that optimistic given the concerned look on her face. She checked his blood pressure two more times.
"Donald, when did you last eat?"
"What time is it?"
She checked her watch. "It's three thirty four."
"Lessee, I had breakfast at around eight this morning, fell asleep and just now walked over here. So, a long time."
"I'm going to give you prescriptions for some medicines for high blood pressure and diabetes. Did any doctor ever tell you you have diabetes?"
"No." This was the truth.
"You have type two diabetes. Your blood pressure is borderline dangerous."
Great.
"I suppose you couldn't prescribe me Viagra, I see commercials for it, really cheap."
"That's for generic Viagra. Afraid I can't write you a scrip for that. Not while you're taking these other meds I'm giving you. I can't take responsibility for side effects."
Shit. Great.
(Trump f*cks around and finds out)
Ever the clever one, Trump takes the prescription to the Kinko on Kingsbridge and Broadway where through the miracle of white out and xerography he has a prescription for the little blue pill that usually can turn no can do into locked and loaded. He fills it at the pharmacy next door to the Kinko, gulps it down with a diet Doctor Pepper and heads down to the Liberty Hotel where sure enough a suitable working girl soon appears. He registers for two hours as "Donald Trump and friend" and gets a room overlooking the North River. All of a sudden it's almost as if there's a light show in his head. He wakes up on the floor near the bed minus his wallet as the hotel manager bangs on the door. Luckily the hotel manager is averse to calling cops and the girl left him with his keys and his hack license.
Trump's TREATMENT/PITCH
If I want to break into the movies I live in the second best place in the world for that - New York City. Maybe it's even the best place.
I can go places in New York
City with a sign, just carrying a sign and get attention. So check this out:
Mike Bloomberg is listed in the late Jeffrey Epstein's little black book with five different telephone numbers. Mustta' slipped through a wormhole.
Anyway waddaya think about this idea?
Hizzoner The Mayor felt a sharp pain in his chest and clutched as if trying to grab the pain and remove it. He was on a massage table in one of the massage rooms getting a four hand massage from two young ladies in his Majorca Mansion where people think he spends most of his weekends.
Something similar was happening at Pleasant Avenue Taxi. Crazy Black Freddie Monaghan had just sat down in a broken down wicker chair in the shape up bay at Pleasant Avenue Taxi when he felt pain in his chest, his arms and his throat. Everything went black and the blackness closed in on him. When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in front of a thick oak door with a brass handle that was the entranceway to the Pearly Gates.
Mayor Slim Coolbreez looked at Monaghan and Monaghan looked at The Mayor. Both of them shrugged that "I don't understand" shrug. Looking down they saw clouds where a floor or solid ground ought to be.
The Mayor grabbed the knocker and knocked. Albert Einstein Bamba answered the door.
Bamba said "Gentlemen I have a proposition.".
About Mayor Coolbreez, he didn't say this about himself, but Michael Bloomberg actually did:
“I like theater, dining, and chasing women.” (He elaborated:) “Let me put it this way: I am a single, straight billionaire in Manhattan. What do you think? It’s a wet dream.”) Mike Bloomberg In his 1997 autobiography,
I used to admire the guy. I used to call him "Master of the Universe." Maybe you think it's a stretch but if without a lunatic Third Party getting onboard he never woulda been Mayor.
I once got an inheritance. It wasn't a whole great big fortune. It was $75,000 which was my share of my father's insurance. I thought to myself "what the fuck, why don't I go back to school?"
So I went to Bronx Community College. I was living in a rent controlled apartment up in the Bronx paying $135 a month. Back in those days gas and electric came to about another fifteen monthly or so. Telephone another twenty. So I figured that I could easily live three years or so, maybe four, on this money without even working. I figured "well look, maybe I could make something of myself if I go back to school."
Well even though I was taking courses to become a paramedic if I wanted to get an Associate's Degree (and I did) I had to take some classes in English and History and some other bullshit like that.
So one of the things I had to do was write a book report about a famous person and I chose Mayor Mike Bloomberg and his autobiography. I learned a lot about him.
You know some people are just lucky, and Mike Bloomberg is one of them. So I wrote the book report and you know I don't know why but I became almost kind of like a fan of Bloomberg so I followed his career.
Turns out he's quite a lady's man. Later when he became Mayor I started to hate the son of a bitch. I'll admit a lot of it is envy. But at least he didn't multiply his fortune maybe fifteen - twenty times over while he was mayor. Oh, wait. Some people say Bloomberg mighta robbed Goldman Sachs blind.
