Even though Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, in his iconic post about "the strong leadership of President Trump," was the epitome of submission, an unpleasant aftertaste lingered in the mind of the Oval Office's host. Now, many are speculating that Trump will likely demand a personal apology from his Ukrainian counterpart. This could happen next week when, according to Western media reports, Emmanuel Macron and Keir Starmer will take Zelensky to Washington to reset the relationships. This is unlikely to be a spectacle for the faint-hearted, so we decided to mentally prepare ourselves for this event and imagine in advance how it might unfold.

Next week. USA, Washington, D.C., the White House, the Oval Office. President Donald Trump and his deputy JD Vance are waiting with ominous smiles for the intimidated Zelensky. Vance demonstratively waves a bag of popcorn.

There is a commotion behind the doors. Macron and Starmer push Zelensky into the office, quickly close the door behind them, and lock it. Zelensky freezes in the middle of the room, glancing from under his brow at Vance and Trump. The Ukrainian president is dressed in a very elegant business suit with a bow tie, and freshly shaved, which makes him look strikingly vulnerable. A lecherous grin spreads across Trump's face.

"Look at the suit!" laughs Vance. "Did you borrow it from Macron?"

Trump sprawls on the couch, spreading his legs as wide as possible to show who the real alpha male is, and lazily waves his hand, inviting Zelensky to come over and sit next to him. Zelensky frowns, spreads his legs even wider than Trump, and strides toward the couch. It looks as if he's riding an invisible fat horse.

"Hey, get out of here, you rascal, and come back in properly!" growls Vance.

"Or what?" hisses Zelensky, clenching his fists.

Behind Zelensky's back, the key clicks loudly in the door. Zelensky stops, closes his eyes, takes three slow breaths, and exits the Oval Office. Before the door closes behind him, Vance notices that Macron is wearing a fleece khaki jacket with a trident.

"Aha, I told you they switched places!" Vance exclaims joyfully. "This is a conspiracy against America!"

"If I were president, this wouldn't have happened," mutters Trump.

Behind the doors, there is a frantic whispering and shuffling, after which Zelensky re-enters. The invisible horse beneath him seems to have shrunk a bit.

"Please, sit down, Mr. Zelensky," Trump politely invites him. "It is a great honor for me to welcome you here. Your people are great, and I'm sure you think you're great too. Now, we'll discuss a few things, then have lunch together, then you'll put on a chicken costume and dance in front of me, saying, 'Cluck-cluck-cluck, forgive me, Mr. Trump, you are the greatest, most powerful, and most indomitable leader in the world, and I am just a modestly successful comedian, sorry, cluck-cluck-cluck.' If you don't remember it the first time, don't worry, I have a printout for you here. Then we'll talk about peace."

"F***ing hell," mutters Zelensky.

"You can also rummage through Macron's pockets, maybe there are some interesting photos of his wife," says Vance with morbid curiosity. "A Russian friend told me she's actually a man."

"I won't rummage without guarantees," Zelensky says firmly. "And I need significant compensation."

Behind the doors, energetic French curses can be heard.

"...Thank you so much for the Javelins, Mr. Trump, I will remember them for the rest of my life," Zelensky says loudly, turning toward the doors. "Under your strong leadership, I am ready for things that are even scary to say!"

"A little gratitude wouldn't hurt," suggests Vance. "How many times, for example, have you thanked us for the Javelins? I'll answer for you: not once. You're our guest here, so please behave yourself, okay?"

Zelensky turns green with anger, opens his mouth, then looks at the door, closes his mouth, takes a blank sheet of paper from the table, and writes on it: "Vance is a couch-f**ing p***k." Showing the paper to Vance, he says loudly toward the doors:

"You are absolutely right, dear JD, you are absolutely right, just like our great teacher Donald Trump! My gratitude knows no bounds..."

‍"You son of a b**!" shouts Vance.

‍"You're the son of a b**, you filthy p***k," writes Zelensky, saying aloud: "I am very sorry that you think of me that way, Mr. Vance! I thought that together, under the strong leadership of President Trump, we would quickly end this war and..."

"Hey, what the hell is going on here?" growls Trump. "What are you showing him?"

"I'd better show it on my phone, it's in color," says Zelensky, quickly hiding the paper in his pocket. "Here, look at my giant approval rating. The whole country doesn't want me to resign, and whoever does can go to hell."

"What is this disgusting face?" Trump grimaces.

"Sorry, wrong photo," mumbles Zelensky. "That's my friend Lysyi. Yesterday, on the front line, he was killed by a Russian sniper on the first day! All my friends are on the front lines, my dad was drafted, and my wife works as a surgeon in a field hospital. As you can see, I am more interested than anyone in ending this war as soon as possible."

"You can't even say thanks for the Javelins," Vance says spitefully.

"Thank you, thank you very much," Zelensky says sweetly, subtly flipping Vance off. "By the way, Mr. Trump, I brought you another Usyk belt - the most expensive one. Want it?"

"Yes!" Trump exclaims joyfully. "Yes!"

Zelensky solemnly pulls out a large boxing belt from an "ATB" plastic bag, where the following is written by colored sharpies: "The belt of Usyk, the most powerful intergalactic boxing champion , signed by Bruce Lee."

"But I need guarantees for it..." Zelensky begins.

"F*** your guarantees," says Trump, hastily snatching the belt from Zelensky and placing it next to him. "This was an incredible deal. A great day for both our countries. Now we can have lunch. We cooked you a cat. Do you eat cats? Or do you prefer dogs?"

"Thank you for the Javelins, I'm not hungry," Zelensky says quickly.

‍"Well, then, please put on the funny chicken costume and shout, 'Cluck-cluck-cluck, forgive me, Mr. Trump, you are the greatest, most powerful, and most indomitable leader in the world, and I am just a modestly successful comedian, sorry, cluck-cluck-cluck.' Here's the printout, and here's the costume."

Zelensky turns green again and throws a panicked glance toward the doors.

"Put it on already!" shouts Starmer from behind the doors. "Your job here is to apologize."

Zelensky jumps to his feet and puts Macron's suit off himself. Underneath, he is wearing a fleece sweatshirt with silk boots, binoculars, a thermal imager, a holster, fleece medals, a beautiful saber, and a beard hanging on the laces. 

Trump and Vance recoil in fear on the couch. Zelensky puts on the beard, snatches the Usyk belt from Trump's hands, throws it around Trump's neck, and starts choking him. Trump wheezes.

"What are you doing, you scoundrel!" Vance shrieks in an unexpectedly high-pitched voice. "Stop it right now!"

"Shut up, or I'll chop you with my saber," hisses Zelensky. "Now say, 'Zelensky is the greatest, indomitable leader, the people's favorite, lifelong president of Ukraine, no elections will be held!'"

Macron and Starmer burst into the Oval Office. They pull Zelensky off Trump and drag him toward the doors.

"No elections!" Zelensky continues to shout, weakly struggling. "Elections are impossible! Zaluzhny is a d***head!"

"Well, that's it, Vova, you're done," Trump croaks.

"You wouldn't have given us anything anyway," Zelensky waves him off and leaves the Oval Office with incredible dignity.

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