Hello, President Trump. I hope this would be the best way to get to you.

 Now, remember, if you're reading this and your name is not Donald Trump and you're not the President of the United States, then you do not get to read this article. Nobody gets to read this article but him. Everybody stop. Okay. Okay.

I have been trying very hard to follow your instructions, and I need to know if I am doing it right. All of the owls you have been sending me have been very clear on this subject, that the dome must be built. I've got a collection of humans working on it extensively, but I don't know what it's for. I have been a loyal soldier, President Trump. I have served you well. I made sure that all ... I made sure that the sea monsters couldn't eat you like you told me to, but I need to know what do you fully want from me? Your tweets have become ambiguous. Your messages unknowable. I got my ...

I remember when I talked to you the first time, and you told me if I ever needed to talk to you, all I should do is cut my hand, and blood that spewed forth would form into an easy to understand message, and I've been doing that. I've been doing that so hard. These midnight rendezvous where we whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears aren't just doing it for me anymore, Trump. The dome will be constructed soon. I hear it. I hear its terrible song. When I go to sleep, visions of blood and violence and death call to me, and I want to know, must I do more? Must I enter the dome myself? Is this what you desire of me?

Forever your willing servant, Rex Hammer