The world is full of slavering, red-eyed wolves, and the media, the plantation slaves and the leftist academia has put a little boy in the White House, who sits uncomfortably in the big leather chair in the Oval Office, his tiny feet dangling over the edge. He glances nervously at the red-eyed wolf seated opposite him, his little boy eyes wide and frightened. He closes his eyes and imagines himself elsewhere, in a forest, walking in the gathering darkness to grandma’s house.

A basket of goodies on his arm
His riding hood bright red
He knows he’ll come to no great harm
Should there be wolves instead
Of grandma at the cottage door
When he at last arrives
Ahead by forty is the score
From which no foe survives
He whistles gaily as the sun
Sinks slowly in the west
His mama told him he’s The One
The Light, the Moon, the Best
Then suddenly his path is blocked
A wolf with bright red eyes
So unexpectedly it shocked
The boy to his surprise
The wolf then took the boy in hand
And led him down the path
Past ruined nations all unplanned
Past dead who screamed in wrath
Arrived at last to grandma’s house
The boy was put to bed
A teddy bear and small gray mouse
A wolf kiss top of head