A Christmas Eve Carol

Donald  J Trump woke up with a start. A meeting was taking place as he tried to shake off the exhaustion which enveloped him in a shroud. He tried to look interested as Rubio continued to drone on. His mouth was dry and he wished to push the red button to summon a servant for a Coke. He realized he should not have stayed up late again, writing furiously on his Truth Social, but he couldn't stop himself. There were far too many people who needed a lesson and since he was the greatest man to ever walk the Earth, it was up to him to put things straight. Far too many nasty people. Too many piggies and dummies in his opinion. I am their leader and they shall obey me. As Trump's eyes began to weigh like a coffin lid, he noticed someone who looked familiar in the back of the room. Trump's body had been failing him but his eyes were still strong and when he recognized who was standing in the shadows he lurched out of his chair and yelled, "Out! Get out now!" As his lackeys gasped, they quickly strode out of the room, leaving only one.

"What do you want? Why do you continue to haunt me? Go away! Leave me alone, Jeffrey!"

"I cannot do so, Donald. We are bound together until these chains are broken. I have come to warn you, Donald J Trump, and take heed. You will be visited by three spirits this very Christmas Eve. Listen well, old friend. Do not dismiss their words. Your time is nigh. Listen."

"I am done listening to you and anyone who dares tell me what to do. You are dead. Dead! I saw it with these very eyes. I saw you hanging from..."

The room was empty. Trump felt a cold sweat run beneath his massive belly. He looked around his golden sanctuary as he stood behind the Resolute desk. He thought, 'I need a burger. I need my Coke. But first, I need to lie down for an hour. I'm so tired. Covfefe.'

As Trump rolled his rollater through the hallway he noticed the glances and heard the whispers from his staff. 'Traitors, each and every one of them! They will feel my wrath. Soon. Now, I must get to my room. Sleep. I must sleep.'

Trump heard the sound of the bells of St. John's strike midnight. As he tried to rise from his bed, he cursed himself for sleeping in his suit. He moved to grab his phone to begin his nightly ritual, but his bruised and swollen hand touched something so cold a chill ran throughout him. He tried to pull away but whatever he was touching held him in place. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light and there she stood, her arms covered in dirt. Her thin, blonde hair fell in her ravaged face and then she spoke.

"You thought were rid of me, didn't you Donold? Even then, you were a miserable man. Every Christmas morning you spent it inside your office, making deals with men who only wanted to be with their families. Your own children were ignored as they pleaded for one moment together. Money was the most important. There is never enough, is there? You had everything a man could want, but you could never be happy." 

The room before him transformed into his office in Greenwich. He could hear his children laughing downstairs, home from boarding school. Trump rubbed his eyes, hoping to wake from this nightmare.

"Not one moment of your miserable life did you create joy. It was all shadows and darkness. I am the mother of your children. God, forgive me. Will God forgive you for what you have done? It is not too late, Donold. Listen to what is to come."

Trump sat up and looked around the empty room. He slowly crawled out of bed and limped to the bathroom. His cankles were huge, his bladder ready to burst. Almost there...

"Hello, Donald," whispered the familiar voice. Trump turned towards the sound as he felt the warm liquid run down his legs.

"Look what you made me do, Fred! You were always making trouble. Get out!"

"We are going on a journey, dear brother. I need to show you something. Take my hand."

"I need to change. I'm not going anywhere with you. I tell YOU what to do! Do you understand?"

Trump felt the touch on his hand as if he had been kissed. The warmth surrounded him as his brother held fast and they now stood before the Silver Belle, the 53 foot fir tree in the Ellipse.

"Pretty, isn't it? 

"What's that noise? I want to go to bed. This is ridiculous."

"That noise is people singing, Donald. 'Oh, Holy Night,'  You can take away these people's homes, their jobs and try to destroy them with your pettiness, but cannot steal them of their dignity and hope. These are good and decent citizens who do not deserve your wrath. They did nothing to you and yet, like the brother I know, you cannot abide the fact that people feel love for one another.You think them weak. Not once have you allowed yourself to be honest with yourself. Not once have you held to your chest a crying child and felt any emotion other than annoyance. It is not too late, dear brother."

" You're a loser, Fred. You had nothing."

"I have a daughter who loves me. Can you say the same? Does anyone love you, Donald? I wish you knew what that meant, but we must move on. I have one more place to show you."

"What is this place? I need to get back. I'm tired. Stop this immediately, Fred. Take me home, now."

"This is Miriam's Kitchen. Smells good. Look, the place is crowded. So many people in need, but they are hugging each other.They are giving hope and advice to get through these dark days. See the light, Donald? You cannot extinguish their light. How can you stand there and not be moved, brother? All the money you strive for can never bring you one ounce of true happiness. I feel sorry for you. I weep for you. Look around you, Donald. You have tried to kill their spirit, their souls, but you cannot . All the power you think you hold, you still will never break them. It's time to go back now. You smell like a sewer. Remember, it's not too late, but time is running out for you. Goodbye, my brother."

Trump was once again standing in his bedroom in the White House. Every muscle in his body ached and he longed for rest, but his wish was vanquished and his knees knocked when he heard the moan emanating from the corner of the room. A man walked into the light and Trump nearly fainted as he recognized his father.

"Dad, help me. I'm going insane. Pinch me, slap me. Wake me up!"

The apparition stood silent and merely pointed towards the door.

"No. I have had enough. I am going to have my burger and write my list of who will be sued next. I don't need you anymore, old man."

Before Trump could turn away, they were standing in a cemetery, waiting in a long line as people laughed and danced amongst the gravestones. The incongruity confused and angered Trump. 

"What is this? Why are we here? I demand to be heard and I don't wait in any line."

His father apparition pointed ahead as the crowd surged forward. There was a great roar as something was happening yards away. Finally, Trump saw what all the laughter was about. He read the numbers on the tombstone and shouted as he saw the name engraved upon it. He watched in horror as each person in line left their mark on his grave. How dare they piss on me! How dare they spit and dance on my grave! I am all powerful! Me! Me! Me! Trump could not believe his eyes when he saw little Mikey Johnson take his turn as he giggled like an insane elf who had finally been freed from the cookie tree. As Trump looked around, he noticed other familiar faces. MTG, JDV and even RFK JR., who had taken off all his clothes, revealing a pockmarked body destroyed by the measle epidemic of 2030. Bobby danced and howled at the moon and was soon led away by authorities. A voice rang out, clear and firm. 

"Go home, people. Don't waste one more minute in anger or retribution. It's time to move on and start our healing process. Our friends from across the seas have forgiven our horrific past and the once deported our slowly coming back. Trump is dead. MAGA is dead. Stephen Miller is dead, killed by Elon Musk, who is also dead. It's a new beginning, so let's leave this man to rot in hell. Time to heal my friends."

The crowd slowly drifted away, leaving one young woman standing before Trump's headstone.

"You thought you could destroy us, but you failed. There will be no library, no streets or buildings named after you. You will be purged from our lives forever. By the way, thanks to your estate's generous donation, one million immigrants will be sworn in this year. Two million unhoused will have a home. The ACA is back in place and jobs are plentiful. What a sad and horrible man you were. Goodbye, orange man."

Trump woke up in a daze, his eyes blinded by the morning sun. He turned to look out the window, staring at the rubble which was once the East Wing and noticed a boy shoveling snow beneath his room. Trump opened the window and shouted, "Young man! I want..."

The End