In a move that has sent shivers through the Department of Interior and caused several fish to spontaneously evolve legs in protest, Donald Trump has personally ordered the immediate repair of the Washington Reflecting Pool. The pool, a serene stretch of water that has faithfully reflected the obelisk of the Washington Monument for nearly a century, has been deemed 'not reflective enough' by the 45th President.
Sources close to the White House report that Mr Trump, during a routine stroll to feed the ducks (who have since been fired for 'lack of loyalty'), became incensed when his reflection appeared 'slightly distorted' and 'frankly, not as handsome as it should be'. The President, a man who once famously demanded that the White House be repainted with a more flattering shade of white, reportedly kicked at the water in frustration, soaking his custom-made Italian loafers in the process.
The pool's current state of disrepair is a national scandal. Cracks line its bottom like varicose veins on a pensioner's leg. The water has taken on the colour of weak tea, and the faint aroma of regret wafts from its surface. But for Mr Trump, the true horror lies in the pool's inability to properly reflect his own magnificence. 'The pool is a disgrace,' he is said to have bellowed at a terrified park ranger. 'It makes me look like I have a small head. Fix it.'
This is not the first time a President has meddled with the District's watery mirrors. Thomas Jefferson once tried to drain the Tidal Basin because it made his nose look crooked. Franklin D. Roosevelt demanded that the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool be angled to better catch the afternoon light for his photo ops. But never has a repair been ordered with such... unPresidential urgency.
Work crews descended upon the pool within hours, looking like ants swarming a particularly wet picnic. They drain the water, revealing a sad collection of lost coins, a shattered iPhone, and what appears to be the ghost of a forgotten campaign promise. A crane lowers a massive sheet of glass-like material into the empty basin. 'It's a special polymer,' explains a foreman, wiping his brow. 'Supposed to create the perfect reflection. They use it in Trump Tower mirrors.'
The project's cost is already ballooning. Estimates suggest the pool will need to be refilled with imported Italian mineral water, filtered through the tears of political opponents, and maintained by a team of Swiss opticians. The environmental impact is, of course, catastrophic. Several species of algae have filed a formal protest. The local duck population has been temporarily relocated to a less reflective puddle in Maryland.
But let us not be too harsh. Perhaps a perfect reflection is what this nation needs. A shimmering, distortion-free mirror that shows us exactly who we are. Or, more likely, who we want to be. The pool will no longer reflect the grey skies of Washington. Instead, it will show a sky of endless blue, with clouds shaped like golf swings and tax cuts. The Washington Monument, now perfectly straight and slightly taller, will gleam with a polished brilliance that would make a used car salesman blush.
As I stood there, watching the work advance with the terrifying efficiency of a real estate developer flipping a historical site, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of hope. Yes, the pool is a vanity project. Yes, it's a colossal waste of taxpayer money. But it's also, quite possibly, the most honest symbol of our times. We live in an age where the appearance of things matters more than their substance. Why should our national landmarks be any different?
The pool will be ready by Thursday. A grand reopening is planned, complete with a red carpet, a small orchestra playing 'Hail to the Chief', and a carefully positioned angle that ensures Mr Trump's reflection will look at least 10 feet tall. The ducks have not been invited. They lacked the proper reflection.