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Ring, Ring. Ring, Ring.

“Hey, this is Cobra. I have a new target for you.”

“Is that so. Fine, who is it.”

“It is Donald Trump.”

“What?! Come again.”

“You heard me right. I just said the target is Donald Trump.”

“Fine. . . However, I expect a higher pay.”

“Agreed. The target will be on the rooftop across from the hotel that you are at.”

“Rodger that. Over and out.”

The new dawn approached faster than he had expected. It was colder than he had originally expected. When he had awoken, frost covered his perch. “This sucks.” He felt like a pigeon as he waited on his roost. Waiting for his target to arrive.

A few hours had passed and his arms grew numb. Off in the distance, the sound of propellers echoed between the high risers. “Sheesh. Finally. That took a lot longer than I was told. The old man is going to get an earful when I get back.”

Around the corner of the building, the helicopter came. It came to hover over the building across from him, and finally settled on the giant H. The propellers slowed to a halt and the helicopter’s door slid open, and a graying head poked through the doorway.

The man’s finger rested lightly on the trigger as he peered through the scope waiting for his target to exit the copter. “The target has touched down and I am commencing the mission,” said the assassin as he repositioned himself for the kill. He let out a breath to stabilize himself and gradually squeezed the trigger. The man let out a smirk as his gun kicked against his shoulder.

The bullet spiraled out of the barrel and flew at its target with conviction. It seemed to take on a life of its own as its vapor trail snaked behind it. Since it was fired at a higher angle than the target, the bullet gradually gained speed as it approached the target. The graying hair was now only an arms length away. The bullet slammed intensely into the hair and. . . didn’t do a thing.

The assassin sat on the roof with his mouth hanging wide open. “How the hell did the bullet not kill him. It just smashed into his hair and fell to the floor. Is he wearing a helmet under his hair?” Flabergasted after his miss the assassin set up for another shot. However, as he was taking aim, the cold sensation of a steel barrel caressed the back of his head. “Shit,” said the assassin under his breath.

Around the downed Donald Trump, his men scurried trying to find the direction that the bullet had come from. “Sir, are you ok?” asked one of the bodyguards. He leaned over to help Donald Trump to his feet.

Throwing his shoulders back, Donald Trump let our a sigh. He looked around in a daze and noticed the men were in a state of chaos. “What is the matter with you men? Is there a fire or something?” The men only scurried around and didn’t reply. “Hey! I am talking to you!” The men stopped in their tracks and turned to Trump with dazed faces.

“Sir we were worried that you were dead,” said one of the bodyguards.

“By the way sir, how did you survive a direct hit to the head from a sniper round?”

“Actually I have no idea myself. But I did use the extra strength hair gel today.”