Steve SchmidtVerified account

The dew hung heavy on the grass on a humid Alabama morning. Jefferson Bureaugard Sessions was dressed in his uniform. He loved how he looked in Grey. He loved his red sash. That it was once Ivanka’s dress was his secret. The clay soil was already baking in the sun. It had an (1)

orange tint. Jeff Sessions didn’t like Orange. He used to, but not now. Now it made him sad. Very sad. It was too early for a julep and he had work to do. He was going to fire his cannon and raise the Stars and Bars. In his minds eye he could see the hordes of Yankees on the (2)

far hill. God, he loved it. He wished he had a horse or maybe a pony. He would name him Traveller, just like General Lee’s horse. Imagine that. Jefferson Sessions was ready for the day. There were Yankees to fight. He didn’t like Blue either. It wasn’t as bad as orange but it

Wasn’t grey

Colonel Sessions was pensive and not because no one knew how he became a Colonel. He said “Good Morning Scarlett” to the handsome woman who passed him on the street. Her name was Susan and she was confused because she was unaware the Colonel called every woman Scarlett except

for his mother whom he called Ms. Scarlett. It had been a busy morning since he fired the cannon and he was ready to pour himself a cool drink of sweet tea. The visitors would arrive soon. Stephen Miller and Gorka would be dressed in brown. It suited them. Jefferson Seasions