Ms. Melania Trump
The White House.
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
Washington DC. 20500
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Viola Estrada. I’ve never written to you before but my husband is Carl Estrada, and he writes LOTS of letters to your husband. Carl thinks he’s giving your husband “advice and constructive criticism,” but between you and me, Carl Estrada advising Donald Trump is something like a a gopher giving advice to a whiffle ball.
It just doesn’t make any sense.
The reason I’m writing to you is this: When you decide to leave your husband, I want you to know you’re welcome to stay with us. Our home is probably a little more modest than what you’ve become accustomed to, but we’re wholesome and comfortable, and unlike your husband, we always pay our bills on time.
I think you’ll find our humble home much more stress-free than where you’ve been living. The only arguments my husband and I have are when he watches Fox and Friends. Or Sean Hannity. Or Tucker Carlson. Or when he mentions your husband’s name.
Also, when I have my Pussy Parties. We always get in fights before and after those.
You’ll have such a good time at my Pussy Parties. A bunch of us girls sit together and knit pussy hats and complain about how mean and foolish and stupid your husband is. You’ll fit right in!
You can sleep in the guest room. My husband has been sleeping there ever since the day your husband got elected, but that’s okay. He can sleep on the couch.
Barron can sleep in our grandson Lester’s room. Lester will be so happy to have Barron for a buddy. He has a bunk bed and I bet he’ll even give Barron the top bunk.
Barron doesn’t smoke or drink does he? If he does, I’d like to know now because I wouldn’t want him being a bad influence on Lester. Lester had enough trauma in his life when his two mothers got divorced and left him for Carl and me to raise. He has abandonment issues just like Barron.
But Lester is a good boy and I’m sure he and Barron will be great friends. I just want to make sure—Barron doesn’t own a gun, does he?
Also, if your husband sends the Secret Service to get Barron back, we have a false wall in the basement that he can hide behind. They’ll never find him there!
Also, if if your husband tries to deport your parents, they’re welcome to hide in our basement too.
Speaking of deportation, how’s your Spanish? ¿Hablas espanõl? The reason I ask is we have some Dreamers hiding in our basement right now. They heard they were about to get deported so we took them in for a while. Don’t worry though. They’re hoping once your husband gets impeached that Pence will ease up on them.
If not, they’ll be staying with us till 2020, so maybe you’d better brush up on your Spanish.
Oh, Melania! We’re going to have such a good time together staying up until the wee hours of the night talking “girl talk.” You can tell me all about how shocked you were when you found out that your husband was messing around with a porn star. And a Playboy bunny. And harassing all those women who are suing him now. How were you to know?
One thing you should know about me: I’m a really good listener! Ask any of my friends. I understand your pain because I’ve lived it myself. Not that Carl ever had an affair with a porn star. I couldn’t live through that! I’d die laughing!
Can you imagine Carl Estrada with a porn star? Picture Carl trying to hit a 99 mile an hour fast ball! Picture Carl playing pick-up basketball with LeBron James!
Picture a chihuahua trying to mount a St. Bernard!
You see the kind of laughs you and I can have together? I mean, what could be funnier than a porn star spanking Donald Trump with a rolled up magazine that has him, Don Jr., and Ivanka on the cover?
Actually, we can laugh now, but I bet when you first heard, it wasn’t so funny. I know I was running to the bathroom every five minutes for a week!
Don’t worry about letting me know in advance. If you call me or write a letter, it might get intercepted by the Secret Service and then they’ll NEVER unlock your doors. Just tell everybody you need some alone time at Mara Lago. But don’t do it on the weekend—that’s when your husband is there playing golf.
No, go to Mara Lago on a Monday or Tuesday while your husband is busy tweeting and firing people. Sneak out at midnight and catch a redeye to the West Coast. I’ll pick you up at the airport or if you want, just show up at the door! The porch light will be on and the beds will be made.
As I said, it might be dangerous to tell me in advance. But just give me a sign. Next time you’re walking across the White House lawn with your husband, just slap his hand away and I’ll know you’re on your way!
Can’t wait to see you! Mi casa es tu casa!