It occurred to me that Donald Trump is such a Dickens character. Incredibly wealthy, incredibly self-centered, incredibly ironic—and, the final flourish, his name. His name is absurd. “Trump,” like a trump card. Also like a blaring trumpet.

So I wrote a little thing.

Donald Trump, as Charles Dickens might describe him

Mr. Trump was a tall man with a tall face and a long mouth, which seemed to have swollen out to accommodate the volume of his voice. Having been successful in the circuits of reality television, Mr. Trump made some small adjustments to his line of work, pinned a flag to his lapel, and transitioned into that other marvelous form of American entertainment, politics.

Just as a trump card, though less qualified in every aspect than a superior card, will beat any ace or king simply because it is a Trump, Mr. Trump battered down his opponents not by his qualification, but by his massive, star-spangled Trumpitude. Though he had no political experience to rival the royalty of the King Bush, or even the Jack Rand, and his business prowess did not match the Queen Carly (Mr. Trump had filed for bankruptcy more often than he’d filed for divorce) he would slap his brand across his opponents as a gambler would slap down a card, and declare, “I’m a winner. I have experience in winning.”