Donald Trump directly confronts the virus for the first time. As you would expect, he reaches into his usual bag of tricks.
T: Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Virus. What should I call you? Corona?
V: Please allow me to introduce myself. I’m a man of wealth and taste.
T: Hey, I love that song, too! Where did you hear it?
V: Everywhere. You know the rest of it.
T: Well, let me just say you’re the biggest, baddest virus on the planet. You’re way bigger than SARS or Ebola. They’re saying you’re even bigger than the Spanish flu. You remind me of myself.
V: I appreciate the compliment, but your flattery doesn’t even work on Kim. It sure won’t work on me.
T: The bottom line is that it’s time for you to go.
V: Why? I just got here.
T: You’re messing up my campaign. I can’t allow that. Surely you understand.
V: I couldn’t care less about your campaign.
T: You know I’m a very stable genius. You can’t compete with my awesomeness.
V: I’ll take that chance. The markets aren’t too impressed with you so far.
T: I’ll take you as a hostage. Your friends will have to give up to save you. Nothing personal, of course.
V: There are zillions of germs like me out there. Like you, I’m dispensable.
T: I can pay you off. Wouldn’t you rather hang out in some African country? I could arrange it, and the weather would be warmer.
V: Not a chance. I like it right here.
T: Isn’t there something I can do to make you go away?
V: Why don’t you just leave me alone and pretend you’ve solved your problem? That’s what you usually do.
T: Hey, great idea! I should have thought of that before!
Trump leaves in triumph.