Trump woke up next to his wife. Caressing her back, he then caressed
the photo taped to her back of his daughter. As soon as he exited his
bed, it was immediately made by a Hispanic woman. He bumbled into the
bathroom, and whipped out his flaccid penis he nicknamed “Crooked
Hillary”. With careful attention to detail, he tidied the comb over on
his balls. Looking down at them, he spoke:
“Today’s gonna be a
big day.. A great day. The greatest day you’ve ever seen. My wife wants
me to make a taco bowl for Cinco de Mayo. She’s botched it for too
long. She’s too old. We’re going to make it great again.”
slowly got dressed in his blue-collar billionaire fit, consisting
entirely of denim and white cotton. This was accentuated with a
cowboy hat and gold watch. Before leaving the bathroom he made a note
to rewind the sex tapes he’d been watching late into the night.
peered outside of his Manhattan penthouse to see a sea of people
wearing red caps, gesticulating wildly and rubbing against each other
sexually. A few were punching and kicking each other. The
security guard standing outside the doors of the huge mansion spoke
into a walkie-talkie. A sheet of pink powder quickly fell from an
unknown location onto the entirety of the property. The supporters
began to grind and punch harder, and some drooled and began to pinch
their own nipples towards the house. The combined movement appeared,
from Trump’s eyes, like boiling water in a pot.
The mere thought made Trump hungry.
hurriedly rushed to the fridge while flapping his left hand against his
wrist, and threw butter onto an already hot pan. There was always a
defrosted Trump Steak, exclusively bought from the Sharper Image, in
one of the four marble kitchen sinks. He quickly fried it up while
manically biting into some jerky he had freshly dehydrated the night
His chewing intensified as he heard banging on the door.
Worried a protester had jumped the gate, he grabbed the dirty steak
knife he was licking and opened the door slowly, with bated breath. It
was just his pal Ted Cruz ready to pick him up in his Prius.
Buddy!” Ted threw his hands back. “What’s with the bloody knife?”
Trump, his face slightly damp with sweat, forced out a fake chuckle.
After a moment of silence, they both burst out laughing. His cheeks red
with delight, Ted slapped Trump on the back and laughed, “Leave that
psycho killer stuff to me!” Trump loudly fake-laughed. “Ah, but
yeah.. I killed a lot of people. Let’s go.”
Trump and Ted hopped into the Prius and quietly sped away.
“So, how’s your family?”
Ted Cruz sighed, “My daughter didn’t kiss me goodbye today.”
shook his head. “I feel your pain. I truly feel your pain. I feel a
great deal of pain, a lot of pain, probably the most pain anyone’s ever
Ted scoffed out the side of his mouth "I’m not
wearing my argument boots today.” It got awkward in the car again.
Trump whipped out his iPhone and quickly dashed out a tweet.
“Be careful Lyin’ Ted, or I’ll spill the beans on your wife!”
pulled into Whole Foods as his phone vibrated. Trump whipped out of the
car and whirled around. “Ted, I love you, you’re a great guy. You smell
like sweet cream and hard boiled eggs. Your Prius is very quiet. You’re
very conscientious of the environment. I need you to go in there and
get me everything on this list. Trust me, I’m a bright person. Putin
thinks I’m a bright person. We’re gonna have a great Cinco de Mayo.”
filibustered Ted out of his Prius. Ted took a few steps and turned
around, suddenly consumed with feelings of giving a Harvard style
shout-lecture to his frienemy in light of being bullied and
emasculated. Trump threw on a burned CD containing music he was legally
forced to stop playing at his rallies and let the car purr. He gave Ted
the “OK” hand sign through the tinted windows and pointed to his gold
watch while making a sad face, sympathetically telling his friend to
hurry up. Ted turned around, flustered, and rushed into the grocery
Inside, the lights were very bright, presumably for the
baby corns. He had worked up a sweat to accentuate the stench that
lingered on his suit from standing inside a Subway for 45 minutes that
morning. As he walked up to the cart section with the list in his hand,
he intercepted the gaze of an older woman standing by the boxes of
coconut and cocoa powder dusted almonds. She appeared, even from far
away, to be trembling out of fear. Ted felt his upper lip get damp for
the fourth time today. He grabbed the nearest cart and pushed it harder
from him than his allegiance to God. He hid in the canned nuts section
and unfolded the grocery list from his pocket.
wasn’t finished. Ted Cruz angrily whipped a green pepper at the
backside of a man mopping the floor, frustrated with the lack of
politically tainted guidance. He thought of how Portia de Rossi
probably eats green peppers in a variety of ways. He stood in front of
a busy checkout aisle for as long as it took to finally decide on an
Almond Joy. Finally, he conceived the idea that he could pay someone to
do it for him. He quickly found the man he assaulted and wrote him a
check that couldn’t be cashed for at least two weeks.
minutes, everything was properly packaged and in the trunk of Ted’s
car, which contained two political powerhouses that once again created
an uncomfortable atmosphere. Trump ate peanuts and threw the shells all
over the newly vacuumed floor, and ran the car until it had a žth tank
of gas. Cruz began to feel his Harvard past surface, but Trump started
loudly eating out of 2 opened bags of the same kind of tortilla chip.
“Let’s scoot now. Bye bye. No more now. Thanks my great friend.”
tongue started hurting from all the salt, but he didn’t stop. Cruz,
thrown another curve ball, passive aggressively dropped Donald off 10
feet from his mansion entrance, and squealed his tires a tiny bit at
the end of the driveway. As the car wouldn’t rev loudly for dramatic
affect, he just screamed until he took the next left.
his groceries and swung the heavy bags with immense force onto the
kitchen counter. The marble cracked as chips and salsa cascaded
onto the floor. He stomped onto them out of pure spite towards nobody
in particular. Salsa dashed across the wall. Blind with unprovoked
anger, he bit down on two pounds of beef as hard as he could. It
suppressed a frustrated grunt. He paced for five minutes before
checking his phone to distract himself. He felt the pull so strong now,
he was impossible to ignore. He had promised his wife “never again”
countless times, but he promised to throw out leftover steaks out of
concern for his own mental health. Every thick, juicy bite was a rich
experience provided by the Sharper Image, but Donald knew he couldn’t
make the house reek of hot blood any longer without hurting the people
he paid to pretend to love him. Unless he opened a window, or propped
open the front door.
No, he had to brown the beef and add the
taco seasoning mix. His thoughts were interrupted by a sizzling noise.
He’d cooked the steak subconsciously, and as he further observed,
perfectly. Before he could turn off the burner, he began gagging hot
steak down his pumpkin colored throat, feeling the blood burn his lower
lip, neck and chest. As he cried out in excitement and genuine pain, he
heard his wife call his name. “Donald? I smell those steaks!”
Suppressing a smaller, quieter scream, Donald stumbled into the closest
bathroom and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“Donald! I thought
we were going to have taco bowls!” his wife said however she said it,
whatever, she’s just his wife, she’s not that important. His daughter,
though. Donald gritted his teeth as he thought of his daughter and also
burning his entire mouth. He decided to sleep until everything went
away. Nestled against the toilet with the now-cold steak resting under
his head, Donald logged into his Twitter account.
He had a long
day today. Instead of live tweeting another Miss Universe’s recorded
sex acts and pinning a pillow to the bed frame with his crotch, Donald,
for once, had absolutely nothing to say. It was a good day. He woke up,
made the bed, bought groceries and made food for his wife. He cleaned
Ted’s car and enjoyed spending time with him shopping at Whole Foods.
He had a few steaks, no big deal, a lot of people in politics
respect him for it. And all he had to be was himself. Realizing this,
he sighed, content, and finally able to drown out the furious pounding
on the bathroom door. He turned out the lights and rolled over,
discreetly nibbling on part of the steak pillow as he turned his head.
With the help of Ted Cruz and other loyal party candidates, Trump felt
confident that he had a good day and was a good person. This was just
one day in the life of Donald Trump.