In a move that has left the National Park Service scrambling for a mop and the British monarchy reaching for a stiff drink, President Donald J. Trump has personally ordered the immediate restoration of the Reflecting Pool on the National Mall after what aides described as a 'devastating inspection' that revealed the water was, in his words, 'a bit murky, frankly, not very reflective, a total disaster.'
Eyewitnesses report seeing the Commander-in-Chief pacing the length of the pool at dawn, his gold-tipped shoes clicking ominously on the granite edge. He was observed pointing a quivering finger at a single floating oak leaf, shouting, 'This is worse than the border. Worse! Get the best people. The best water. Maybe some bleach. Lots of bleach.'
Sources confirm that within hours, a memo was issued demanding the pool be drained, scrubbed with a combination of imported Italian marble polish and industrial degreaser, and refilled with Evian water personally flown in from a secret spring in the Alps that Trump owns through a series of shell companies. A senior administration official, speaking on condition of anonymity because they were still holding a squeegee, told this reporter: 'He wants it to look like a mirror. A perfect mirror so he can look at himself and see a winner. Also, he thinks it might confuse the geese.'
Naturally, the UK has been dragged into this lunacy. Buckingham Palace confirmed that a team of heritage experts from the Royal Parks, currently on standby for a state visit, have been placed on 'high alert.' A palace insider, who asked to be identified only as 'Utterly Mortified,' said, 'We've received a frantic call from the White House demanding blueprints for the Serpentine. Apparently, they want to know how we keep our ducks so orderly. The president believes the ducks here are 'more British' and therefore 'more reliable.' It's absolute madness, but we've packed our wellies and a very nice selection of teas.'
The National Park Service has issued a terse statement confirming that 'consultations are underway regarding the aesthetic improvement of the reflecting pool's surface tension and chromatic consistency.' However, a junior employee, glimpsed weeping behind a rhododendron bush, whispered, 'He wants it done by Friday. It's 2,029 feet long. We have two guys with a net and a bottle of Windex. This is not a maintenance project. This is performance art.'
Meanwhile, the cost of this aquatic vanity project has already spiralled. An internal budget estimate, leaked to this paper, includes a line item for 'Presidential Duck Displacement Devices' (a fleet of radio-controlled swan-shaped drones) and 'Emergency Gin Rations for On-Site Journalists' (a category in which this reporter will be heavily investing). The total is currently pegged at $47 million, or roughly the GDP of a small island nation. A nation, one imagines, that has never seen a leaf on a pool and simply panicked.
As the sun sets over the Mall, casting a long, unflattering shadow across the future site of America's most photographed puddle, one thing is clear: the republic will survive. The water will be clear. The ducks will be confused. And somewhere, a very special bottle of sparkling water is being uncorked by a man who believes he has just saved Western civilisation from the tyranny of pond scum. I need a drink.
