A Trump Christmas Carol
Trump asked, "Who are you?"
"The Ghost of Christmas Past."
"Long ago past?"
"Yes. France, in 1792. You're about to see what used to happen to people like you. Now close your eyes."
When he opened them again, he was sprawled out on a cobblestone street in a pleasant French village.
"Hey!" yelled one of the townsfolk. "He looks like royalty!"
"Off with his head!" screamed another.
Trump, having paid someone to take his French exams for him, knew not of what they spoke. When the villagers gathered around him, he thought he was being surrounded by an adoring crowd...an idea that vanished as ten men grabbed him, bound him with their belts, and carried them off to the city guillotine. Just before the blade fell, a thought passed through his orange head: Why does this crappy town have no McDonald's? I could really use a sack of Quarter Pounders right about now."
* * * * *
Trump sat bolt upright in his bed. "What a terrible nightmare!" he screamed out loud.
Melania rolled over and scratched her ass a little. "Shut the fuck up, asshole," she commanded. "I'm trying to sleep."
Trump grabbed his phone. "I have to send thirty tweets right now!" he shouted. "A vision like that should happen to no man!"
"Well, would you please do it in another room?" said Melania. "It's bad enough you steal all the fucking covers. If you're going to be seeing things, don't do it in here."
Chastened, Trump slunk off to the gold-plated toilet in his private bathroom. He attempted to log onto Twitter, but received only a "password not recognized" message.
"No! This can't be happening!"
A stiletto heel collided against the bathroom door. "I'm going back to New York. It'd be easier to sleep in Grand Central Terminal...on the floor."
As out of a mist, an apparition appeared.
"Let me guess: you're the Ghost of Christmas Present."
"You guessed right."
"How come you look like that commie traitor Robert Mueller?"
The ghost smiled.
"And what the hell do you want?"
"I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present...and I have a present for you." He handed Trump three cases of paper.
"What's this?"
"Your indictment. Oh, and there's a .45 in one of those boxes, in case you want to take the coward's way out."
"You brought a loaded gun into the White House?" Trump screamed.
"No, Donald. I brought an unloaded gun, and the barrel is welded shut. You might want to kill yourself and save Ivanka the pain of what's about to happen to you, but I'm going to be sure it's never going to happen."
"Aren't we supposed to fly around so I can see what is supposed to happen to me if I don't mend my ways? I read this book."
"Donald, look at yourself in the mirror. The only way you're 'flying' is if I bring a cargo plane, and thanks to your ridiculous tax cut we don't have the budget for that. So you just think about what could happen, then think of something a hundred times worse."
* * * * *
Trump awoke to someone punching him in the head.
"Melania, please...hang on, who the hell are you? Oh, let me guess: You're the Ghost of Christmas Future. What the hell do you want?"
"Now that's a stupid-ass question, fat ass; you know exactly what I want. Put your fucking slippers on."
They reappeared in a small New England community. The streets were full of people cheering, making toasts and dancing.
"What happened?" asked Trump.
"Your obituary was in the news this morning. Did you know they can say the words 'fucking asshole' on TV now?"
"Really?" asked Trump.
"Yeah, but only if they're referring to you."
* * * * *
Trump awoke to a soft kiss on the forehead.
"Who the fuck is it this time?"
"You silly boy, you know who it is," said Melania. "Come on, get up. We're supposed to have breakfast with the Pences this morning, remember? Get up and get dressed. I'm going to the bathroom to get ready, and then we'll call for the limo to bring the Pences here. If you get up quick, there's the most incredible sunrise. You just have to see it."
Melania goes into the bathroom.
Trump thought to himself, "it's a good thing that was all just a bad dream."
A soft thump is heard. Melania pokes her head out the bathroom door.
"Donnie? There are three cases of paper and a gun that won't work in the bathroom. Do you know anything about this?"
