Donald Trump spent his time leading up to Inauguration Day tweeting random things and appointing right-wing radicals and white supremacists to his Cabinet.
Some people attempted to talk to him rationally, but Trump wasn’t much of a listener, and he wasn’t rational either. So he went on doing things his own way, regardless of what he may have promised to do, or what was traditional. In short, Trump was a selfish old man.
Anyway, one Sunday evening—the night before the Electoral College was scheduled to vote for the next President—Trump sat down in his penthouse to eat a burrito. He even took a selfie with it, so he could tweet about it later. But just as he began to eat, he heard a strange sound, and when he looked up, he saw what appeared to be the ghost of his father, Fred Trump, approaching him.
“Dad! What’re you doing here?” he asked, freaking out a little.
“I made mistakes in my life,” said Fred’s ghost. “But you still have the opportunity to change yours for the better.”
“I don’t need to change anything,” said Donald. “I already won the election. I won big.”
Fred raised his eyebrows. “Tonight, you’ll be visited by three spirits. They’ll show you some interesting things. And now, I must go.”
“Oh no! Stay here, Dad, and share this burrito with me. It was made by Mexicans, but it’s pretty good.”
But Fred disappeared.
“Bah!” said Trump. “That didn’t just happen. This damn burrito is giving me indigestion, and it’s making me hallucinate too. He was just a bad lima bean. Or a chunk of rotten cheese.”
So he called a servant to take the burrito away, and crawled into his gold-plated bed.
An hour later, Trump awoke to a bell ringing. When he looked up, he saw a young, iridescent woman in a flowing white dress.
“Hey!” he said. “You could be at least an eight, but that dress makes you look like a four.”
“I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past,” said the spirit. “Take my hand, and I’ll show you some memories.”
“Oh, I like this,” said Trump, grabbing the woman’s hand. The next thing he knew, the two of them were flying through the night air.
“I wish I had more time,” said the ghost. “But I’ll do my best.”
Their first stop was a New York City rental office in the 1970’s. An African-American family was trying to rent an apartment in one of Trump’s buildings.
“I remember that day,” said Trump. “That’s me when I was just twenty-seven. The handsome blond guy.” He walked up to his younger self and slapped him on the back, but the ghost shook her head.
“These are just shadows of the past,” she said. “They can’t see or hear you. Let’s listen to the conversation.”
Trump heard his younger self explaining to the black family they had no available apartments.
“But I believe you did actually have apartments available, didn’t you?” asked the ghost.
“I don’t wanna talk about that,” said Trump. “We were sued, but it was all settled, and we didn’t have to admit any guilt.
“I see,” said the spirit. “OK, let’s go someplace else.
Their next stop was a kitchen in the Bronx, around 2010. A man and woman were trying to figure out how to pay their bills. The woman was saying she wished they hadn’t paid thousands of dollars to Trump University, where her husband had gone to learn about real estate. “That place was a scam!” she said. “And now look at us. We’re up to our eyeballs in debt. And Christmas is next week. How will we buy gifts for the kids?”
Trump turned to the ghost. “They’ll be fine in a few years. Even though our university did nothing wrong, we settled a class action lawsuit for twenty-five million. So all the whiners got a nice payoff.”
The ghost looked at Trump in disgust, but he didn’t notice.
Their next stop made Trump much happier. It was a party in the late 1980s. Beautiful women and teenagers who looked like models filled the room, most of them drinking cocktails. Meanwhile, older men were making lewd comments and whispering things to the women. “Ah, I remember this party,” said Trump to the ghost. “It was great. Really great. This is how America should be again. That’s my slogan, you know. ‘Make America Great Again.’”
“I see,” said the ghost. “But I’ve heard that many of these women were treated quite badly. They were trying to get ahead in the modeling business, but for most of them, that didn’t work out.”
“Sad,” said Trump. “But this was a fun party. I wonder where I was.”
“Over there,” said the ghost. “See the blond man in the corner?”
“Oh, OK!” said Trump. There he was, ogling some very young girls, who were clearly trying to ignore him. “Hey, see that girl there? The very beautiful one? Wanna know where I grabbed her?”
“No,” said the ghost.
“Here, I’ll show you,” said Trump, approaching the girl. But just as he reached for her, he woke up in his own bed.
“Wow,” he said. “What an amazing dream. Amazing.” Then he went back to sleep.
An hour later, he awoke again. This time, a man with a full beard was standing beside him. Trump noticed that the man had very large hands, and was drinking from a goblet.
“Do I know you?” asked Trump. “You look like someone I met at one of my rallies. What’s that you’re drinking?”
“I’m the Ghost of Christmas Present,” said the ghost. “And this is the milk of human kindness.”
“Eww,” said Trump. “Sounds disgusting.”
The ghost shrugged. “Touch my robe and I’ll take you around the city.”
“Well, this is weird,” said Trump. “But that last chick took me to an awesome party.” So he touched the ghost’s robe and they flew out the window.
“We need to hurry,” said the spirit. “I need to show you lots of things.”
First, they went to an apartment far uptown, where a family of immigrants was trying to stay warm with a combination of blankets and space heaters. Some of them were crying. Next, they went to a mosque, where people were praying fervently. Again, many of them had tears running down their faces. The next stop was a homeless shelter for LGBT teenagers, and everyone looked scared. Finally, they flew to a women’s health clinic, where volunteers were holding a late-night meeting. They were concerned about the possibility of closure in 2017, due to lack of funds.
“Who are all these losers?” asked Trump. “Don’t they know it’s Christmastime?”
“Some of them don’t celebrate Christmas,” said the ghost. “But the real reason they’re upset is because they don’t believe you’ll be kind to them as President. Some are even worried about being jailed or deported.”
“Sad,” said Trump. “Hey, did you hear we’re gonna chop the head off of ISIS?”
“Wow,” said the ghost. “How’re you going to do that?”
Trump recoiled and waved his hands around in odd ways. “I’m not gonna tell you my plan. I don’t know you. For all I know, you could be BFFs with ISIS.”
But the ghost was gone, and once again, Trump was back in his gold-plated bed.
The third time he awoke, he didn’t see anything at first. Then, he noticed a hooded figure at the foot of his bed. No face was visible.
“Ooh, you scared me,” said Trump. “You look very urban. Is that a new sweatshirt style?”
The figure said nothing. “What’s wrong with you?” asked Trump. “You’re not one of those people who can’t talk, are you?”
Still, the figure didn’t reply. It just summoned Trump with a long, pointy finger.
“Oh boy,” said Trump. “So I guess you must be the Ghost of Christmas Future. And you’re gonna show me some future stuff. Right?”
The ghost nodded.
“See how smart I am?” said Trump. “C’mon. Let’s go. I hope we see some more models.”
But they didn’t see any models. Instead, they saw families being split up, as parents were deported and children born in the U.S. stayed behind. They saw another family burying a teenager who’d had a botched, illegal abortion. Finally, they flew across the sea to Russia, where Trump and Vladimir Putin were smiling and shaking hands. “We’ll make the world great again!” said Trump to Putin. “Together!”
The hooded spirit just watched and pointed.
“So tell me, Mr.,” said Trump. “Are these visions of things that will happen, or things that might happen?”
But the spirit vanished, and Trump found himself back in bed. “Cool,” he said to himself. “That meeting with Putin looked awesome. And now, I need to get some sleep.”
In the morning, he felt confused and disoriented. He wasn’t even sure what day it was.
So he turned on his computer and saw that it was Monday, December 19th, 2016. “Hmm, I think some important vote is supposed to happen today, but I don’t need to worry. I already won the election. I won it huge.”
But unfortunately for him, all the members of the Electoral College had been visited by similar spirits the previous night, and had awakened knowing they shouldn’t vote to confirm Trump. Hence, they didn’t. And Trump never became President of the United States.
The End.