Things aren't looking too good in Hong Kong, are they, I asked Rocket Man.

'That could be sorted out pretty fast,' he replied, 'no need for girls in distress locking themselves to things.'

China couldn't afford the embarrassment, I said, 'as it stands, Hong Kong is the place where the elite go to play.'

'And buy houses.'

Rocket Man was more clued in than most gave him credit for.

'If you get Nova and Elfie spreading their legs on the blackjack table and if they show me an amazing licking and squirting show, I'll call my buddy, the Chinese President, who we had paraded through the streets of Pyongyang only a month ago, and I'll quiet everything down.'

Max elbowed me.

He was obviously happy.

If we could somehow leak to the press that Donald Trump and Rocketman jointly worked on negotiations, Trump just might win '20 much to the chagrin of Obama, who was really feeling cold out of the limelight of 'Presidential Adoration.' 

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