Dr. Frankenstein was adding a chapter to his latest scientific journal, “Think Brain Transplants Are Impossible? Let Me Change Your Mind,” when there was a loud knocking on his castle door.
Dr. Frankenstein sighed, put down his pen and descended the huge, uneven stone steps leading downstairs to the giant front door. He opened the small, hinged cut-out that served as a peep hole located at eye level so he could peer outside and remain protected from the storm that was raging. He shouted, “Who is it?”
“It’s Reince Priebus!” came the reply.
“Did you say Dr. Pretorius?” the doctor yelled.
“No! Reince Priebus! I’m the chairman of the Republican National Committee! Please let me in!”
Reluctantly, Dr. Frankenstein slid the three huge bolts that secured the door and threw it open, frantically waving his uninvited guest to hurry inside. To the doctor’s surprise, Priebus was pulling a large, flatbed wagon, and arms and legs were protruding from beneath a white sheet that had been strapped on top of what appeared to be a collection of eight or nine lifeless bodies.
“What is this?” asked Dr. Frankenstein, hurriedly closing the door against the elements as the wagon’s wooden wheels came to a stop. “And how did you get past the wall that surrounds this castle?”
“The gate was open, but don’t worry, I locked it behind me,” said Priebus, catching his breath before pointing to the wagon and adding, “I need your special skills, Dr. Frankenstein.”
The doctor was intrigued. He gently lifted one corner of the sheet, causing a shock of orange hair to fall over the wagon’s edge.
“That is Donald Trump,” said Priebus. “and you’ll also find Paul Ryan, Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio, John Kasich, Mitt Romney, Bill Kristol, George Will and Karl Rove.”
Dr. Frankenstein took a menacing step toward Priebus and asked sternly, “Why do you bring these politicians and pundits to me?”
Priebus held out his hands in a pleading fashion. “I need you to unify them,” said Priebus. “You see how they’re scattered all across the platform? I need you to put them together so they will walk and talk as one!”
Dr. Frankenstein slowly returned his gaze to the bodies strewn haphazardly across the large wagon bed. The seconds ticked by, and Priebus worried that the notoriously neurotic scientist might kick him out of the castle. Instead, a smile began to slowly form on the doctor’s face.
“It would be my greatest achievement,” Dr. Frankenstein said, looking off into the distance at a vision only he could see. “Something that no one believes is possible.” He snapped out of his reverie and barked, “Let’s get them upstairs!”
For long days and nights, Dr. Frankenstein labored over his new task, dismembering, measuring, stitching, and every so often throwing the switches on a vast array of loud, noisy, sparkling electrical equipment. Priebus assisted him the best he could, all the while noticing a strange hump growing on his back.
“Don’t worry,” said Dr. Frankenstein. “It happens to all my assistants. It’ll clear up.”
Finally, one evening after darkness fell, Dr. Frankenstein admired his handiwork, standing over the lifeless creation that rested before him under a sheet on a large table, with Priebus standing by his side. A thunderstorm was brewing outside.
“Mr. Priebus,” said the doctor, glancing toward the lightning flashing through the large opening at the top of the castle, “throw the switches!”
Priebus threw three levers in the order that Dr. Frankenstein had taught him. Huge chains began lifting the table toward the sky and its life-giving electrical storm as Dr. Frankenstein nervously rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
After a few minutes, the table descended back to the floor, and the doctor rushed to his creation’s side. The doctor pressed his ear against the chest, the body still covered by the white sheet. Then, the fingers on a hand that had slipped out from under its covering moved slightly, causing the scientist to look at Priebus and scream, “It’s alive! It’s alive!”
Priebus smiled, and he helped Dr. Frankenstein raise the creature into a sitting position on the edge of the table. Dr. Frankenstein pulled the sheet away.
Priebus was shocked. “Oh no, Doctor! This is all wrong! You’ve given him Marco Rubio’s head! It was supposed to be Donald Trump’s!”
“Don’t worry,” said Dr. Frankenstein, “I’ve given him Donald Trump’s brain!”
“That’s right,” the creature suddenly spoke up. “Don’t worry, Reincy boy, it’s still me, Donald J. Trump. Hey, Doc, good work, I don’t mind lookin’ a little younger, even if I’m not as handsome. And I’m lovin’ this new blue suit with the white shirt and red tie. Good!” he said vainly.
Priebus was shaken at the sight of Marco Rubio’s face speaking with Donald Trump’s voice, not to mention that when he stood up, “Little Marco” appeared to be nearly eight feet tall.
“I stacked the legs of Ted Cruz and John Kasich,” said Dr. Frankenstein, beaming.
The Trump Monster patted the RNC chair on the shoulder. “Reincy, you really did get the party united after all. Gotta give you credit.” He held up his arms in front of his face and added, “And I gotta tell ya, I’m lovin’ these new hands. Big!”
“Yes, they’re much larger than the ones you came in with,” said Dr. Frankenstein proudly. “They were Paul Ryan’s.”
The creature noticed a pile of bodies in a dark corner of the laboratory. “What’s that, Doc? Leftovers?”
“Yes,” said Dr. Frankenstein glumly. “That’s Romney, Kristol, Will and Rove. No matter how hard I tried, the grafts just wouldn’t take.”
Suddenly, they heard a crashing noise and loud voices outside. Together, they rushed to the window and saw a gang of angry villagers, torches in hand, many wearing MoveOn.org and Bernie Sanders t-shirts. The mob was breaking down the wall and heading toward the castle.
“Bad!” said the Trump Monster. “Let’s get outta here, Reincy. Out the back way!” Priebus and the Trump Monster quickly headed toward a rear exit.
“Hey, wait!” yelled Dr. Frankenstein. “Who’s going to pay for the wall?”
Priebus looked at the Trump Monster and said, “Please don’t say it.”
“Oh I gotta say it, Reincy, I gotta say it,” said the Trump Monster, taking a deep breath. “MEXICO!”
Reach Gary Abernathy at 937-393-3456 or on Twitter @abernathygary.