Rub in your Coppertone.

Notice two telephone poles standing erect in front of Donald Trump's beach mansion in Palm Beach, Florida. An orangish-yellowish volleyball net, the colors of Trump's hair depending on the day, hangs between the poles.

It's early evening and the sun drops over the western horizon. At a swanky tiki bar a few steps away, Ivanka Trump serves orange Zombie Cocktails to vacationers, including Mike Huckabee and Rand Paul. The daughter of Donald Trump and not to be confused with her former mother, Ivana, Ivanka wears a Las Vegas cocktail waitress outfit. “Hail to the Chief” blares over the loudspeakers that face towards Trump Ocean.

A three-on-three volleyball game is about to start in the sand only a seashell's toss from the water. The two captains, soulmates Donald Trump and John Kasich, choose teams. Because he's leading in the race to become the next president of the United States and because he's selfish, Trump gets the first pick.

Of course he chooses Ben Carson. With the second pick Kasich takes Marco Rubio. This is because earlier this week he read a blog revealing that Florida's absentee Senator played college football for a school no one has ever heard of named Tarkio College in Forlorn, America.

With the next pick Trump takes Chris Christie.

“He will be my setter,” Trump says. “That way he won't have to jump. It's unlikely he can jump more than two inches off the ground and that's because he's a fat load. Endorsing me to be the president is the biggest political mistake he has ever made. What a sucker. He thinks I'm going to offer him the vice president role but I have no respect for him and couldn't care less whether he endorsed me or not. What a fat loser. He is to men what Rosie O'Donnell is to women.”

Christie shouted at Ivanka. Although standing so fine 300 feet away, she could still hear Christie's thunderous voice: “You better turn off that chieftain music and put on some Bruce Springsteen tunes such as ‘The River,' which reminds me of my high school experiences. We're near water and a river is water so it fits the scene. I have been to more Springsteen concerts than anyone—146. One of the reasons I've been to so many is they always serve great concessions there such as nachos with cups full of cream cheese.”

Feeling defiant—a behavior she learned from her famous father—Ivanka plays “Hail to the Chief” again. She isn't afraid of Christie because her father owns the New Jersey politician mentally. She knows if Christie gets mad at her for not playing Bruce, the Donald would say to Christie, “Shut up you lardass.”

There is only one more player to pick: Ted Cruz. By default, he goes with the Kasich squad even though the governor from Ohio would have rather played with two guys. Did you know Kasich is from Ohio? The thought of having a constitutional lawyer on his volleyball team makes him want to go back to Ohio and balance the state's budget again.

Who can blame Kasich? No one has ever wanted to play volleyball with a constitutional lawyer. They're no fun to play sports with, hang out with in the Ohio state legislative offices, or do anything with, such as run for President of the United States.

Kasich doesn't even want to play the volleyball game. He only made the trip to Trump Beach to talk about Ohio. All he cares about are his Ohio State Buckeyes football players and balancing the Ohio state budget.

“I'm the only one at this volleyball game who has actually balanced a budget,” he said. “We have done this for twelve straight years under my leadership even though no one knows or cares. I am also above all this rancorous talk in which the other candidates have been engaging. I am a budget balancer. I did it for Reagan, Carter, Clinton, and Bush 41 and 43. Obama didn't want my services because I'm a Republican and he hates all Republicans.

“Obama spiked the federal deficit to $19 trillion because he wants that number to rise as high as possible because that makes America more vulnerable and weak,” he added. “Nevertheless, every time anyone else needed a budget to be balanced, they called me in and I balanced it.”

“Back off, budget balancer,” Trump declares. “Nobody cares whether you've balanced a budget. That won't get you to the Oval Office. You're in fourth place. All they care about is whether you have the guts to insult people on national TV so they are shocked, bewildered, and entertained. You're in fourth place because you're so stupid that you think balancing a budget matters. Shut up about your stupid state of Ohio. Nobody cares about Ohio. It's a lame state. Woody Hayes punched that Clemson player and stained the state forever. You're a lame guy. Cleveland is a horrible place. So was WKRP in Cincinnati. What a terrible TV show. I can't believe it lasted for as long as it did. Let's play some volleyball and shut up about your balanced budgets. And one more thing: Never mention the state of Ohio again. Everybody including people in Ohio is sick of hearing you talk about what you have accomplished in the state of Ohio.”

“But I'm the only one in this volleyball game who has ever balanced a budget. In the state of Ohio I have done it every year that I've been governor there,” Kasich says.

Miffed he wasn't hearing any Bruce music and sick of Ohio talk, Christie fires the volleyball across the court, popping the budget balancer in the nose.

“Shut up about Ohio,” Christie says. “Let me tell you about New Jersey. While you have been balancing budgets, I have been belittling New Jersey Star-Ledger reporters, firing my employees about some bridge scandal I concocted but lied about, and strutting around the country endorsing Donald Trump to be our next president. If I cared about balancing budgets, I would be in New Jersey right now in that wretched place crunching numbers instead of lounging in my Fred Flintstone bathing suit on the shores of Trump Beach. Let's play some volleyball.”

Because he believes he's the smartest and most talented of all players, Trump takes the ball and serves first.

With his small fingers he whacks a hard one at Cruz, a guy he truly detests with every fiber of hair on his wig. He figures anyone who went to Harvard Law School blows at volleyball. All Trump can think about, besides Megyn Kelly, is spiking the ball 10,000 miles per hour in the guy's annoying face.

Fielding Trump's serve like a competitive jerk, Cruz bumps the ball to the Ohio Budget Balancer, which stands for OBB in bureaucratese. Inadvertently, the ball goes to the brain surgeon, who with his brain bops it over the net to Christie.

“See,” says Carson, “Americans need to use their heads more. It's that simple. We need to think things through with our brains. We have lots of problems and they need to be fixed. Go on my website and read how I think we should do it: There you can also read about the millions of electrical circuits in the brain, most of which never get used because we don't use our brains as much as we should.”

Moving to play Carson's brain bump, Christie trips over himself and falls to the sand. This causes an earthquake felt from the Florida Keys to Bangor, Maine. California earthquake experts could not be reached for comment because people in that state don't like to be bothered, and earthquakes are not news to Californians.

With the sand rumbling beneath everyone's feet, the drinks spill. Ivanka runs for cover in in her Daddy's beach mansion. The wind gusts rip the rug off of Donald's head. Like a college football player on scholarship, Rubio sprints towards the ocean. He appears to be hell-bent on getting back to Cuba to be with his paycheck-to-paycheck ancestors and charismatic and humanitarian leader, Fidel Castro. Cruz follows him to the water but gets scared.

He never learned how to swim. As a boy he read Encyclopedia Brittanicas all summer long. This consumed all of his waking moments when he wasn't going to chess and debate camps. One day, however, after he finished reading the “T” Edition—he read them in alphabetical order—he went to the swimming pool to check out some skin because he had just reached puberty. Instead of swimming he just sat there and thought about how he wanted to be the president one day, even though no one liked him then or ever since.

“Marco!” Cruz shouts as the Florida Senator doggy paddles towards England and Cuba. “Don't go! I need you to come with me to Ohio. Kasich is going to show us how to balance the Texas and Florida budgets. Afterward, for a little relaxation he's taking us to the Ohio State football game. What fun. I'm excited.”

With his head just above sea level, Marco replies, “But what about the earthquake Christie caused by falling on the sand?”

“Christie's budget wasn't balanced,” Kasich says over Cruz's shoulder. “Do you guys know that in the state of Ohio I balanced the budget? No one on this beach besides me has balanced a budget, not even Ivanka. But she's got quite a budget, doesn't she? I'm going to Ohio. This place, you guys, and Christie's Earthquake (CE) are making me unbalanced.”

“Hey Ohio,” a rug-less Trump yells as Kasich walked up through the sand dunes. “Go ahead and make Ohio great again by balancing its budget. No one will care. All they will care about is my hair.”

From the tiki bar a Springsteen song starts blaring. Like “The River,” it's one to which Christie can relate: “Thunder Road.”