Thursday, November 8, 2018

SIRTES PRESS presents "DONALD the Employee"

A fast-moving comic novel of American politics, DONALD the Employee is available from as a Kindle ebook. 

Just $0.99, or FREE to Prime members. Paperback now available at

[see below for notice to EU visitors on EU sites]

A President has resigned from office in disgrace. His assets are gone. No one will return his calls. He has been banned from social media. He's never before faced such a disaster. Is his life over? Is there anything he can do?

An offer is made: a job. And not just any job—the type of job Donald Teehind has dreamed of for years. He is to be made the centerpiece of a new conservative television-news empire! 

But there’s one catch: the investors fear he cannot make the adjustment to working for someone else. They require proof that he can get along with coworkers and customers. They need to see evidence that he can control the infamous personality traits--the bullying, the vanity, the lechery--that he gloried in when head of his own company. 
In order to be willing to put up the money, they need to know that Donald can function as an employee.

If he can do it, he’ll be set for life—he’ll have real clout, real muscle. He'll have the chance to shape the news. He’ll BE the news. For Donald, there is no more powerful incentive.

And all he has to do is get through ONE day as an employee...

The ebook: free to Kindle Unlimited & Prime members!

EXCERPT; read more of the actual novel at the link, above.
Copyright © 2018 by Argus Constant. All rights reserved.
This begins about halfway through the narrative prologue:

... So it was over. Assets had been seized as part of the state and federal cases. Worse, what was left was claimed by the Russian oligarchs who had made massive loans to Donald Teehind over the past few years. Their investment had paid off to an extent—the USA had been significantly weakened at home and abroad, just as the Russians had hoped. But the oligarchs were still out good money. They wanted it back.

The President they’d helped to install had fallen short on his promises to them. The US sanctions that kept those at the top of Russia’s power structure from accessing the money they’d stockpiled outside Russia, remained in place. Donald Teehind had been remarkably inept at fulfilling his main purpose, as the Russians had seen it: giving them a way to get their hands on the assets they’d looted and stashed overseas.

So the oligarchs had come after whatever the American courts had not been able to seize. Between the courts and the Russians, it was all gone: Donald’s helicopters; his private jets; his homes and golf courses and other real estate; his financial instruments—stocks, bonds, licensing agreements, etc.; his cars; his furniture; his solid-gold toilets; even his ten-thousand-dollar suits and hand-crafted Italian shoes.

When the smoke cleared, all Donald had left could be summed up in a very short list: one law-school-student daughter willing to put him up in her condo; a phone with a contact list of people who wouldn’t take his calls; and a box of extra-long ties.


“Dad, you have GOT to get out of the condo today,” said Cartier Teehind to her father.

Donald was—as usual these past three weeks—watching television. Today was a bad day: he’d been flipping around for five hours, now, since 5am, and not once had he caught anyone saying his name.


He glanced at her, then turned back to the screen, punching the remote’s buttons viciously.

Cartier sighed. “Please, Dad, this isn’t good for you. You know that Wolf News is trying to keep from mentioning all that happened. The, uh, problems. They want to build up Haypenny’s Administration and just forget—what came before.” Donald made a strangled sound that could have been “losers” combined with “dummies.”

At least he was capable of responding. Cartier had been distressed, after he first came to live with her, to find him withdrawn and unresponsive for more than two weeks. He hadn’t even gotten out of bed. The Secret Service agents assigned to him—their service being a perk he received due to having resigned, instead of waiting to be expelled from office—had wanted him hospitalized.

But Cartier knew there was nothing organic wrong with her father. She’d called on a doctor friend to come in and put the agents’ minds at rest. The doctor had been clear. There was nothing a hospital could have done. Why had Donald Teehind had spent half a month in a stupor? Because he’d been confronted by something utterly new to him: he was reacting to his very first experience, in a long life, of being told “no” in a way he couldn’t get around.
The miracle was that the ex-President’s near-paralysis had, eventually, lifted.

Now, watching her father’s obstinate focus on the news channels, Cartier reflected once again that this was doing him no good. She had to talk sense to him. “Come on, Dad, you know that the other channels, the ones less conservative than Wolf, are going to ignore you because they are enjoying ignoring you. Enjoying pretending you don’t exist. They’ve been waiting for this for ages.” She waited, but her father remained fixated on the flickering television.

“They won’t let me Cheep,” he said, his eyes still on the screen. “Chirper closed my account.”

Cartier sighed again. “I know, Dad,” she said, her voice low with sympathy. “The social media companies all say they’ll let you back on their platforms eventually. But you know what that legal language meant, Dad. They wouldn’t come out and say it, but they’re afraid of being held liable if, um, people get stirred up by online postings, and something happens.” She awkwardly patted his back. “You’ll be able to be yourself online again, eventually. I know you will. Then you can start a Fund Me page and all the rest of it. You’ll rebuild. The Internet can’t keep you out forever.”

He appeared to take no notice of her attempt at comforting words. Unconsciously, it appeared, he tapped the pocket where he still kept his phone. As far as Cartier knew, he carried it around everywhere—even though he couldn’t use it to Cheep, and his calls to old associates and radio talk-show bookers and formerly-friendly journalists all went to voice mail.

Donald cleared his throat and looked up. “Did you buy more ice cream?”

“Yes, Dad. And another of those cherry pies you like, and another chocolate cake. It’s all there in the kitchen. But you really should eat something besides sugar.”

His back stiffened and he turned away. “Just go to your classes. I’m fine, believe me.”

Cartier stared at him a moment, a frown of concern marring her face. “All right, Dad. I’ll see you in a few hours. Try to go out and take a walk or something, okay?” Getting no answer, she picked up her bag and keys and opened the front door. With one backward glance of pity, she left.

Donald, hearing the door shut, got up. Time for some pie.
Just then, his phone actually chimed. A call! He nearly dropped it in his haste to get it out of his pocket.

“Hello?” he said, his voice cracking a bit.

“Hello, Mr. President,” said a man on the other end. “I represent a consortium of investors who want to put you on the air. I’m Niol Lop of FPV News Partners; we see you as the main attraction of a brand new conservative television channel. Would you have a few minutes? I’d love to tell you about our ideas.”

Donald did drop the phone, this time. Hastily, he bent to pick it up.
“Uh, yes, I’m here. You were saying?”

READ MORE AT THE LINK:                Donald the Employee

OR at                      Donald the Employee, Kindle UK edition

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