Pig Trump sat down at the dining table. Dinner was the best meal of the day.  He was looking forward to well done swill with ketchup. At 6 pm, on the dot.

The clock ticked over to 6.01 pm.

His stomach rumbled. With Pig Trump, a stomach rumble was more like the sound of the Swamp Farm Senate debating trickle down tax cuts.

“Melania” he yelled. “Where is dinner?”

“There is none. You said you wouldn’t be home”, Melania said.

“I said I would be home for dinner” he replied.

“I know you said you would be home. So I didn’t get the chef to cook”.

“But why?” Pig Trump asked.

Melania sighed. Why was this so hard, she thought?  “Because you said that when you say would, you mean wouldn’t”.

“But you should know that when I say something, I mean whatever I would want it to mean, once I have decided what I mean, and I wouldn’t want it to mean something other than what I said it would mean or in fact wouldn’t mean, and then it would mean something else tomorrow, or perhaps it wouldn’t” he huffed.

The lights went out.

“Would you go upstairs” he asked, hopefully.

“No”.

Melania turned on the lights and went back to reading Alice in Wonderland.