The honeymoon is over.

“BUT WHY?!” The Donald screamed as he slammed his small, soft hands down on the Resolute desk. His anger forced his voice two full octaves higher and made him sound like a petulant child.

“Don-” Paul Ryan began. The Donald cut him off.

“MR. PRESIDENT!” The Donald whined.

“Mr. President...” Ryan choked out the words. “We don't have the support.”

“Well, maybe if you'd made it better! Why is it so bad? You're the worst! SAD!” The last word he almost spit out involuntarily, as though he suffered from Tourette's.

“You said you liked it yes-” Ryan was cut off again.

“FAKE NEWS!” The Donald began sputtering. “You are just as bad as CNN and NBC! Fox and friends knows! You're just like the fake dishonest media! SAD!”

“Do-Mr. President, this isn't the end of the fight. We can rewrite it and reintroduce it. We can-” Ryan pleaded.

“No! The stupid loser Democrats want Obamacare? Fine! They can have it! Steve told me that it's going to explode anyway and, when it does, it'll be their fault! They're going to have to come to me for help and I'll make them all come down to Mar-A-Lago and eat the meatloaf! Get out of my office!” The Donald turned his back and stared angrily out of the window.

“Yes, Mr. President.” Ryan said. As he left the Oval Office, closing the door behind him, a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Sad.” He said to himself quietly as he wiped it away.