Inspector TRUMP and the Missing Golf Ball E-Book

Johannes Wilkes

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 206

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026

Beschreibung

Donald Trump strebt die Weltherrschaft an. Ein Golfturnier unter Autokraten soll die Entscheidung bringen, so lädt er Putin und Xi zu sich ein. Seinen Golfball hat Trump so geschickt manipulieren lassen, dass er stets das Loch von alleine findet. Da kommt ein Alligator daher und verschluckt den Ball. Wer steckt dahinter? Der Russe oder der Chinese? Ein verrückter Wettkampf mit der Zeit beginnt.

Leseprobe

Johannes Wilkes

Inspector TRUMP and the Missing Golf Ball

Similarities with living and, unfortunately, still incumbent autocrats cannot be entirely avoided.

Thursday

A stroke like a line. The white ball flew straight as an arrow into the Florida blue sky, over a pond and a high hedge, then descended back to earth and landed on the green, a good two hundred meters away. A satisfied smile spread across the president's face. Once again, he had succeeded in making a perfect shot. He strolled leisurely toward his buggy, a golf cart painted with stars and stripes, while James, his caddy, ran off to look for the ball. When the boy had rounded the pond and hedge, he turned pale and let out a stifled cry."What is it?" asked the president, who came rattling around the corner behind him."The ball..." stammered James."What about it? Where is it?""An alligator... an alligator swallowed it!"

***

The president waded out of the mud with his pants covered in dirt. He had angrily pursued the beast, chasing it with his club and shouting wild threats, but the alligator had long since disappeared into the swamps."Cowardly, like a Democrat," the president railed, "and just as much of a thief. I'll call him Joe. The 2021 election and now Birdie!"Exhausted, he crouched down. The disaster was complete. He had to get the ball back. He had christened it Birdie because it flew so perfectly. Without this golf ball, his whole beautiful plan would fall apart."Round up all the hunters you can find," he shouted to his caddy, "whoever catches the alligator with Birdie in its belly will get a villa plot in Greenland from me. Plus a luxury igloo!"

***

His pulse was racing, but his stomach felt queasy. He desperately needed something to eat. He drove furiously to the clubhouse in his buggy, leaving a cloud of smoke behind him. He only allowed golf carts with combustion engines on his golf courses; after all, as president, he had to set a good example. When he reached the terrace and sank into his chair, Bobby came running over. Without his master having to say a word, the waiter grabbed a Diet Coke from the bottom shelf to use the extra-long bottle opener. The president insisted on this. Hygiene was important to him, especially when it came to food; after all, he wasn't called Mr. Clean for nothing."A burger with that?" Bobby asked as he poured the brown soup into the glass."A portion of fries will do."The president wiped his forehead and popped an aspirin. He had to come up with a new plan. And nothing helped better than a fresh serving of fries. Damn alligator! That was unexpected. Had anyone ever heard of alligators eating golf balls? Of all times, of all balls! With the most important golf match of the year, indeed of the century, coming up in three days. Xi and Putin were already training feverishly, as Jonny from the CIA had told him, with Xi in particular improving all the time and his handicap already below 5."But yours is 2.7," the head of the secret service had tried to reassure him."Of course, no need to worry," the president had replied, letting out his booming victorious laugh, that unique, unmistakable victorious laugh. Secretly, however, he had broken out in a sweat. Of course he had a handicap of 2.7, despite all the ridicule from his opponents, who thought the number was fake. Fake, what nonsense! Anything that differed from his opinion was fake! That some people still didn't understand that! Nevertheless, if Xi continued like this and trained like a madman, he could actually become dangerous to him. But Xi wouldn't stand a chance against his favorite ball, even if he hit countless balls over the Great Wall of China. His favorite ball, however, had disappeared, in the mouth of a beast named Joe. Could he find a replacement for Birdie quickly? The president wiped his face. Elon! Only Elon could help him now!

***

It was difficult for him to ask Elon for anything. There had been times when they had gotten along better. Boy, how he had made Elon his special government employee after the last election, the head of DOGE, his top dog! How Elon had swung his chainsaw with his MAGA cap, how he had chopped up all the superfluous agencies, the eco-organizations, the state development aid, the snake pits of radical left-wing Marxists. The civil servants had trembled and begged, but it had done them no good. The environment, development aid, social projects, all that left-wing crap. Elon had kicked them all out. At that point, their relationship had still been excellent. During this heyday, Elon had also given him Birdie, the magic ball, perhaps the most valuable gift he had ever received. Despite everything, however, he had had to take Elon's favorite toy, the chainsaw, away from him again. Too many loyal fans and supporters had not accepted being deprived of their jobs in such a brutal manner. Elon couldn't be stopped with kind words, so he had to show him who was boss. But that was a while ago, and a lot of water had flowed down the Hudson since then. And hadn't he reconciled with him in the end with the golden key to the White House? The president took a deep sip. Elon wouldn't let him down.

***

The hunters didn't need to be told twice. Shooting alligators for the president? It was a matter of honor! Members of the National Guard also joined in, all equipped with machine guns."Please only shoot them in the head, not in the stomach," William, the head hunter, drilled into them. Under no circumstances should the golf ball be hit.

A wild chase began. The men resolutely started the propellers of the airboats, those flat boats that could fly over the swamps. They drove side by side, close together, in a hunt the likes of which the Everglades had never seen before."No animal must escape, you hear!" William warned them.So they plowed through the reeds together, engines roaring. Whenever a volley rang out, the president pricked up his ears and his heart beat with hope. He devoured his fries on the side. With Heinz ketchup, of course, and only Heinz ketchup! For fear of a poison attack, a new bottle had to be opened every time he asked for a refill. In front of his eyes! And his ears! It had to pop fresh, otherwise it went in the trash. – Yes, the Heinz family! They were old friends, as their ancestors both came from the same village, Kallstadt in Germany. Together they had decided to reclaim the Palatinate as their property, but this plan had to remain secret for the time being. They couldn't expect too much from the world public, always one thing at a time. People were so sensitive. Carrying out Operation Kallstadt would be easy, as more than half of all American soldiers serving in Germany were already stationed in the Palatinate. A home game.The president had just finished the last crumb of French fries when a slender blonde came clacking around the corner. The president quickly put on his most endearing routine smile. He could already guess what his wife wanted from him."Be reasonable, honey, one aspirin in the morning is enough," she said, taking the medicine box away from him."Just one last one," he begged.Rolling her eyes, she held out the box to him. The president quickly grabbed it and washed the tablet down with the last of his cola. He swore by aspirin. Aspirin thinned the blood. Nothing bothered him more than the idea that blood that was too thick could flow through his heart. How quickly could that lead to a blockage in his arteries! "Think of the bleeding!" Melania warned.

Pah! Bleeding! The ridiculous bruises on the back of his hand. Admittedly, he did get a bruise now and then, like recently when he had hit the photo of his predecessor in the White House. But what was a bruise compared to thick blood in the heart?"French fries, always French fries! You should eat more vegetables.""I will, honey, I will."As if ketchup wasn't a vegetable! Pure tomatoes! Once, his wife had tried to secretly mix cauliflower into his mashed potatoes. Oh, oh, there had been trouble! It was almost like a poison attack. "And cola, always cola. How about apple spritzer for a change?"Man, Melania! As if he didn't have enough trouble today! What real American drank apple juice? The president took a deep breath! When would his wife finally leave him alone? Didn't she have to do Pilates now? However, it didn't look like she was ready to leave. Instead, she sat down next to him and pulled out her pencil."What else do I need to get for our guests? They're arriving the day after tomorrow."Now the president had had enough. Was he supposed to write the shopping list for Xi and Putin too? How was he supposed to know what their favorite foods were? "A Chinese person eats anything with four legs, unless it's a chair, and for Putin, maybe fried bear paw?""Sir! I'm serious!"Whenever she was angry, she called him sir."I want to be a good hostess. Didn't you say how much depends on this weekend?"That was true. He had said that. But not about the food, about the golf game! At the thought of the match, his mood immediately sank again, despite the renewed volley of gunfire that was just echoing across the swamps. "What are those shots out there?" Melania asked anxiously."Nothing. Just a little hunting adventure. For the food, ask Jonny from the CIA. He knows all the favorite dishes of our favorite opponents."Melania nodded and stood up, but not without smoothing down her husband's mane of hair sticking up at the back of his head. The president willingly let her do so. His Three Weather Taft hairstyle survived all attempts to tame it, even those of his wife.

***

Thirty-three alligators. All with broken eyes and stretched claws. They lay neatly lined up on the 17th hole of the golf course, on perfectly manicured grass. The president stood by the hole flag and watched with his arms crossed as William, the head hunter, cut open the belly of one animal after another. It was unbelievable what he pulled out of their stomachs! Fish, birds, turtle shells, mice and rats, in one case even a whole wild boar. What didn't come out was the golf ball. The hunters shrugged their shoulders regretfully."Damn animal," muttered the president."Shall we try again?" asked William."Right away," hissed the president, "and I'll increase the reward for the whole team: a week's luxury vacation at the Trump Resort in the Gaza Strip!"His pants began to sing, "Young man, there's no need to feel down..." Normally, he would have started dancing, but now he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket with a sullen face, a golden T1 phone, made in America, of course. Hopefully, it wasn't his French colleague again. "Ju cannot du sät!" How that guy got on his nerves! And how he bragged about his Élysée Palace.

"Just wait," Trump growled, "when the Golden Hall in the White House is finished, all of Paris will pale in comparison."But it wasn't the Frenchman on the line, it was Melania, the First Lady. "Almost worse," thought the president. Sighing, he answered the phone."Are you thinking about the boys? You promised to buy them new shoes."The president pouted. That too! But a promise was a promise."Where are the little ones?""Playing hide and seek at hole 7."

***

"One, two, three, four..."

JD leaned against a tree and covered his eyes while Marco and Pete crawled under a magnolia bush. All three wore their favorite clothes, plaid jackets with knickerbockers. They almost looked like triplets, except Marco had a different complexion."I'm coming!" JD shouted."Enough of this childish behavior!" Trump called, putting down his stroller. "Wash your hands. We're going to buy shoes."Marco and Pete immediately came out of their hiding place and ran up to their father with JD to cheerfully salute him. As if on cue, they shouted, "Always ready!" Then they burst into cheerful laughter and jumped into the buggy. The president had to suppress a smile and adjusted his tie. The three of them were real kids at heart, but absolutely loyal. Why shouldn't he treat them to a little fun?

***

They didn't take The Beast. There was no need for the armored limousine in Florida. Everyone loved him here, unlike in Washington. He hated Washington. He would have gladly traded it for any Chilean village. In Washington, he only rode in an armored car, but at home in Florida, he could confidently take the Tesla. He had bought the Model S in front of the White House in front of the world's press, at a time when he still patted Elon on the cheek. The boys threw themselves into the back seat."Buckle up," the president called over his shoulder."Aye aye, sir," came the reply from the back. Again, there was cheerful laughter. There was nothing better than going shopping with Daddy."What's Cuba doing?" the president wanted to know."Everything's going according to plan," Pete crowed.

"Everything is going according to plan," echoed Marco and JD.Pete did a trial internship as Minister of War and did very well. The president had to smile. When he had suggested an internship as Minister of Defense, the boy had drummed his fists on the sofa for half an hour, he was so angry. With fatherly understanding for his son's disappointment, he had quickly declared the Ministry of Defense to be the Ministry of War, and everything was fine again. A real boy wanted to play war and not just defend himself. Marco, with his urge to move, preferred to stay outside, which is why he was allowed to play the Minister of the Outdoors, while JD, his eldest, was being prepared for the role of his successor. The boys were all fired up when they had a task to do.The president looked in the rearview mirror with paternal pride. How well they played Battleship! They were real Trumps. Only Marco caused him some secret concern. With slight suspicion, the president wondered why his youngest looked different. Somehow foreign. Nine months before his birth, they had hired a new pool keeper, a Hispanic. Could this guy have been involved with Melania...? The president dismissed the thought as quickly as one would shoo away an annoying fly. Wasn't Marco imbued with the same spirit as his brothers? Didn't he play his role as Minister of Outdoor Activities with passion? So why worry? Occasionally, nature juggled with genes, that's just how it was. No, he could rely on his Melania.Half an hour later, he pulled into the spacious parking lot of the Shoe Palace in Miami. As they got out of the car, the president tripped over his tie and fell flat on his face. His boys knew this and didn't take it too seriously; on the contrary, they couldn't help but grin. No one stumbled over their tie as beautifully as their father. He had never seriously injured himself. Now, too, he got up again and dusted himself off.

"Stupid pothole," he grumbled.Then they ran toward the entrance. Shoe Palace lived up to its name. It was the most magnificent shoe store in all of Florida."But behave yourselves, boys," said the president as they entered the store.The shop owner approached them with an eager expression."How can I help you?""New patent leather shoes for my three rascals," said Trump, affectionately tugging at the boys' earlobes, "but American-made, of course!"The master of all shoes looked at him with an embarrassed smile."American patent leather shoes... I'm sorry, we're just out of them."A little white lie was permissible. American shoes were only available for sports, but the president probably didn't want to hear that."Well then, in that case... Show us what you have. Only the best will do."

While the salesman went to fetch the desired items from the storeroom, the three boys looked at their president with pleading eyes. The president understood. "All right, but just this once!"Cheering, the rascals ran up the spiral staircase to whizz down the wooden slide. They immediately got back up and ran off again to try a second time. They knew that no matter how strict Daddy was, he gave them free rein."Yay!" Pete shouted as he went down again."Yay!" Marco and JD shouted too.The salesman returned, pushing a cart full of shoe boxes in front of him."Size 15 for Pete, 13 for JD, 11.5 for Marco," said the president proudly. What father knew the shoe sizes of his little ones?"But please make sure they're exactly the same model, so there's no arguing."Now the fun of trying on shoes began. Every time the three of them put on a new shoe, they hopped around the shelves on one leg."They fit!" Pete finally exclaimed."They fit!" cried Marco and JD."Italian model," said the salesman apologetically, "not the cheapest."The president nodded. Italy, the country where the little blonde ruled! The one with the Betty Davis eyes! His Georgia! At the peace summit in Sharm el-Sheikh, he had shaken her hand and said to the cameras, "She's a beautiful woman!" Oops! He should have kept his mouth shut! That had caused trouble with Melania. For three days she hadn't cooked him any steak, only oat patties. Who can understand women? What was it his German grandfather, God rest his soul, always used to say? "A woman's heart, a sow's stomach, the inside of a sausage, remain forever unfathomable."The president looked down at the shoes his protégés proudly presented to him. Then he knelt down and pressed the leather at the tips of their toes. There was still a little give, just right, because the three were still growing."Would you like some shoe polish with that?" asked the salesman."Not necessary. We still have some at home," said the president.The man didn't need to know that the inside of a banana did the trick just as well. A good polish and the shoes shone like new. Add to that the subtle scent of banana, perfect! And now that Ecuador was practically an American state, there was no longer a cent of customs duty on bananas. Buy American!

***

On the way back, hunger struck."To McDonald's, please, please!" cried the back seat.Even the president felt his stomach growling. Why shouldn't he grant his boys this small wish? They had been really well-behaved while shopping. As a thank-you, the salesperson had given them the latest Lurchi newspaper at the checkout. "Long live the Pentagon, long live the salamander!"McDonald's was the president's favorite gourmet restaurant. Wendy's and Kentucky Fried Chicken weren't bad either, but a brand that had already decided to name itself after him was naturally to be preferred. The president pulled into the McDrive with gusto and rolled down the window: "One Quarter Pounder—he avoided the term hamburger, which sounded too un-American to him—and three junior bags.""Junior bags?" croaked a voice from the loudspeaker, "Do you mean Happy Meal?""Yes!" yelled someone from the back seat. "Happy Meal!"

Happy Meals always came with a surprise toy."A flying hamster for me," Pete shouted."Me too!" Marco and JD shouted in unison.

There was silence for a moment. Then the voice croaked again: "We only have one flying hamster left!""Boo!" Dark shouts rang out from the back.

"Calm down, boys, calm down!" said the president. "What else is there?""We still have plenty of flying giraffes and flying kitsunes.""The flying what?"The giraffe was out of the question. Africa was still only on the distant agenda. Putin was still bitching, and so was Xi. But not for long! After the weekend, the world would look different."Kitsune. A mythical creature from Japan," croaked the speaker."Hmm... All right, three kitsune," the president grumbled.As long as he hadn't sold the Japanese to the Chinese yet, they were still useful to him. After all, you needed something to trade. Like the Pokemon cards in the schoolyard back then. Never sell a creature cheaply that could still be useful. But when the word kitsune was mentioned, the roar from the back seat intensified into a hurricane."Women's stuff," JD shouted.

"Women's stuff," Marco and Pete shouted.The president broke out in a sweat and looked out the side window again. "What else do you have in triplicate?""From the last collection, there's still the flying alligator!"Cheers erupted from the back seat. Grinding his teeth, the president agreed. A flying alligator! Of all things! That was all he needed. As they continued their journey, the pleasant smell of steaming fries filled the car. When the president looked in the rearview mirror and saw his munching little ones, he had a nice idea. New hope sprouted. At a red light, he pulled out his cell phone: "Smile, boys!" Then he pressed send and sent the photo. Elon would like that. Him with his little ones in the Tesla! Now he had to grant his favorite autistic person a wish.

***

Melania grumbled a little. He always had to buy fast food for the boys! It was enough that he himself didn't value healthy eating. She had cooked broccoli especially. Who was going to eat it now?

"Off to bed!" she called, clapping her hands.The boys gave her a kiss, then ran up the stairs."And no secret gaming!" Melania called after them.The president had to grin. What did a mother know about teenage boys? A quick round of Call of Duty had to be okay. You could learn a lot as a fighter in historical battles. What better preparation for life? And you lost your aversion to the sight of spurting blood."And remember, tomorrow is the registration deadline for the adult education center," Melania reminded her husband.The adult education center! He had almost forgotten. He definitely wanted to register for the advanced course, "How to Be a Good Autocrat." He had already passed the first course with flying colors. But now there were more important things to worry about than adult education courses. The president glanced at his watch. It was high time for the phone call. He preferred video calls, liked to keep an eye on the person he was talking to. Just like on his TV shows. That's where he had practiced his hypnotic gaze. No one could resist it. Not even Elon. Especially not when he garnished it with a sweet candy.

***

Elon got straight to the point. The president had previously coated his throat with chalk spray, a very effective measure when it came to generating sympathy. His voice now sounded as soft as a kitten's. The introductory small talk, which he had mastered perfectly, was also an effective way to initiate a deal. "Hello Elon, how's the new rocket coming along? Will you reserve me a seat for the first Mars landing?"Mars was the president's favorite planet. What other celestial body had been named after an American caramel bar? That alone was reason enough to claim Mars for America. Well, there was also Milky Way. But claiming the Milky Way was still far too premature. Besides, what would he do with a road? If anything, only a galaxy would do for him. Elon's face gave no indication of whether he was pleased about the call. Was he still offended about the cancellation of subsidies for electric cars? Then he had some good news for him, a real treat!"What do you say, Elon? The electricity we generate with our great coal-fired power plants will be exempt from all taxes and fees starting today!"Elon looked at him like he was from Mars. Then a smile played on his lips. That was good news. But he was on his guard. Why was the president suddenly being so nice? He knew him. It was always about a deal. What was the quid pro quo?"Oh, I wouldn't call it a quid pro quo," replied the president with the most innocent look on his face, "just a tiny little thing would be nice."

"And that would be?""Do you remember the golf ball you gave me some time ago?""I remember. What about it?""A little mishap. Birdie was swallowed by a crocodile.""Oh dear. That's unfortunate.""I've grown really fond of it. Would you be so kind as to send me another one?""Another one? I'm sorry, I can't do that. It's one of a kind.""A what?""The ball is one of a kind. There's only one in the world.""Oh, Elon! I'm sure you can make me another one."

"It's not that easy. The engineer doesn't work for me anymore. When do you need your golf ball by?"