Melanie K, Court Reporter

[Kid Berwyn]

Last edited Tue May 14, 2024, 07:20 PM - Edit history (8)

I cannot believe I am having to sit at this foeking courtrooms for The Trial of The Donald Sentry. Believe you to me when I say no one deserves to be locked up more than his, but as a loyal trophy I must toe the lies. And he made me come here to show supports and some strategic cleavage, on a day when I could be doing anything else. Now that I think of this, I remember how hard Lara had laughed when Kim said it's like the Big Toe is needing to go along for the Big Lie.

Any damn, here we are in another courtroom in lower Manhattan and I am wearing my journalist disguise kit. I wearing my signature "I really don't care. Do U?" trenchcoat which I wear to visit the little girl scaring the bull on Wall Street where Donald said no one gives him the times of days. My job: Report the Fax and sell the story to Rupert Murdoch or the Moonie Times.

Last night – late, late last night – the nice Secret Service man who never says he's tired stopped massaging my feet and then took the letters off and hand-painted over the parts of the coat to make it look the same, so now it blends more in with all what the reporters in the street outside are wearing. Weird how duck tape could do that to a standard fabric like olive drab canvas. The real reporters are all jammed in the back or in the media corral down the hall. Donald likes to strut by them, and you can tell when his pants are full he walks with his bottom bent forward.

Now I wearing a fleece hoodie underneath. My babushka comes down to cover my Mr. Tony double-plucked brows in front and my signature flowing auburn locks that would be grey if weren’t for Mr. Tony’s special highlights formula. Besides the GRU-issue pumps with the poison bayonet toes, my silk PJs are all I have on other than that and the special ring President Putin gave me with the little white pill in the compartment.

What is wrong with this pictures? So I’ve been here a whole morning and not a one single paparazzi has taken my photo not even once time. I did get a selfie on this amateur phone with Lawrence O’Donnell -- say, “Cheese!" -- but he did not recognize me under all this clothings. Glad the judge asked if it was OK to put the AC on full arctic blast. I wear sweaters that cost more than what most of these losers make in a month.

Now I must be listen to Michael Cohen. Shit! Why, oh why, did he have to tell Donald that I liked to look at pictures of Justin Trudeau all the time? Wasn't he happy with the quoting status, where I did that blue job thing for him all the time whenever he ask, as long as Donald or Ivanka not around? He told me it was party favor thing, not to be a serious.

Some people are so under appreciative. Now Cohen’s let the monkey out of the bank and the Donald is really mad again, more at him like the time we saw Michael Bolton on the elevator at Divorce Court with Marla. All Cohen did was say he thinks it was my idea not to be blaming Donald for the locker room pussy catting talk. I am getting so bored waiting for the judge to look at me so I can give him a thank you flash.

Real story: I remember being in a locker room with Ghislaine one time we were inside of an actual locker and she didn't want me to say anything, just to be super quiet and close the door. Anyway we had a wonderful moments doing our exercises and yoga stretching in there together. Suddenly, this foursome of mens came in from the golfing track and listening to them talking about the balls and the sexing. They talked about how their game they play so well and how big their attachments are, but when we peeked out looking from the little vent slats and saw this equipment of them didn't match their story, but what else is new?

There is little man sitting in the row behind me with black hair and big glasses and shiny heel lift shoes like the kind the Donald wears who keeps tappink me on the shoulders. He reminds me a little of the small man on the television who sat behind President Joe Biden during the speech where all the women wore white and he rolled his eyes all the time. Anyway, Mike, I learned that his name is, passed me a nice note on stationery with Speaker Kevin McCarthy scratched out along the top telling me about how he likes to spend time with his boy, watching and recording. Anyone know what does "MILF" mean?

Holy smoking! Now I am understanding why all those parasites are there standing in the back. Just look at all them bastards. Stupid Tommy, Lyink Ted, J.D. Mascara, new Clarence from South Carolina. They theenk they are here showing support but really trying out for to be The Donald’s Veep. This unstable moron and father of my child could care less for them than he does that accountant flipper. They are just here to intimidate wetnesses like at the trials Roy Cohn liked to taking us. He called them “men of honor.” These today, including The Donald, Roy Cohn he would call “cheeken shits.”