President Flump slept alone, save for the small angel that sat atop his dresser smoking a cigarette. She watched between puffs, her cigarette never shortening, as the fat foreign leeches undulated. They maintained a steady drain of the president's naked body, and never seemed to satiate. He groaned and grumbled as he slept. Occasionally, he would roll to one side, popping a few of the beasts in a burst of dark red, drowning the bedding in his own blood. The thin, spectral c