Pro-Life at the Orphanage

“Hello new Pro-Life Union Movement volunteers! Welcome to the Queens Orphanage! My name is Alice and I am the Volunteer Coordinator you will be working with today.”

Alice stood in front of a big brick building in the middle of Queens, New York. Yes, New York. The new volunteers smiled and were eager to help out. There were five in total.

“I will show you around the Orphanage and introduce you to the children. We’ll then get you started. There’s plenty to do here thanks to groups like you!” Alice cheerfully delivered.

“Great!” said the volunteers as they followed Alice indoors.


An old man off the street approached the group holding out a small paper cup. He wore an old, raggedy army jacket. “Change?” he repeated with a staggered voice.

“Get out of here!” ordered one of the volunteers before they moved along inside, “Get a job! What do we owe you?” Glaring at the old man, the last volunteer entered the building where Alice was waiting in the lobby.

“This is the lobby. You will check in here when you come to volunteer. This is also where new children are dropped off to become a part of our big happy home!” chimed Alice. “We are getting a new addition as we speak!”

The volunteers followed Alice’s gaze to the side of the room. A rough, tired looking man was taking a crying child through a doorway that led to a staircase. A woman sat in a chair, her hands covering her face. After a moment she got up, with her hands still covering her face, and quickly left the building. The new volunteers could still hear her low sobs that slowly dissipated.

“Yes! A new life added to our amazing family. Wonderful!” piped Alice. “Let us continue.” Alice led the group to the back of the ground floor. The room was dusty, the light was pale and flickering. An lady who looked like a aging ham roast sat behind a computer that must have been from the 90s.

“Our office here is where most of the day to day operations of the Orphanage are take care of. The work done here is what allows us to survive and keep these happy kids housed, fed, and loved. Isn’t that right Mary Ann?” A low gruff came from the aging ham roast. “Ha, of course.” said Alice in a knowingly cheerful manner.

“Now, let’s go see the kids.” Alice led the volunteer group up the second floor. The stairs were dingy and cold. Alice pulled open the door to the second floor, which appeared to stick for a moment. The door let out a horrid groan before Alice led the group inside.

“Here on the second floor is the play area. All the children can come here and play, during their designated play time.” The play area consisted of a rug area in one corner and another area of hardwood flooring. The whole space was abundantly bare. The rug looked raggy and stained, a dark reddish-brown. A few toys that must have been lifted from a doctor’s waiting room decades ago by their appearance were scattered across the floor. They were rusted and worn. The play area was anything but playful; it was rather squalid and depressing.

“All the children love their playtime; it keeps them active and healthy. You’ll help monitor the kids during playtime during some of your volunteer sessions.” said Alice, standing on what appeared to be a bloodstain. “Well, let’s go meet the kids you’ll be helping with!” She checked the bottom of her shoes on the way out of the play area.

Alice led the group of volunteers back into the dingy stairwell and onward to the third floor.

When the group arrived on the third floor, they entered into a hallway. Down the hallway, doors lined either side. A sour smell was in the air. A faint sobbing could be heard.

“The first room here has some of our younger residents.” Alice walked up to the door and knocked three times, “Benjamin! James! It’s Miss Alice. I have some visitors here who would like to meet you!”

Alice opened the door, it had a terrible squeak to it. Inside was a small room with a bunk bed on one side and two wooden desks on the other. The air was musty. The single light dimly glowed. A boy sat on the lower bunk. His head cocked slightly forward, he flicked a playing card along his fingers. On the dim light, a body swung slowly back and forth.

“Oh no, not another one,” Alice whispered underneath her breath. She quickly shut the door, and big smile grew across her face as her eyes remained wide open. “One moment please people. Alex!” she screamed down the hallway.

The man from earlier who carried the child away came running down the hallway. He looked as if he was the humanization of depression. “What is it Alice?” Alex said with a heavy sigh.

“We have another incident in here,” she said softly but earnestly, “Please take care of it.

Another very audible sigh came from Alex. “Alright,” he said, going into the room.

“Ok! Well, haha, there are always things to keep us on our toes here at the Orphanage! Hard to manage all these lovely children! You’ll experience some of these little nuances yourself! Let’s continue.” said Alice cheerfully but now a little fazed. The group continued down the hallway.

“Ok, let’s go in here,” Alice said, stopping at a door a little farther down the hallway. She knocked on the door.

“Carrie! Cynthia! We have some new volunteers from the Pro-Life Union Movement who would like to meet you!” Alice opened the door. The room inside was as dingy as the last one. The two girls were laying in their respective beds. They slowly rose up with gloomy looks across their faces.

“So girls, can you say a little something about living here with our big, happy, wonderful family?” asked Alice overtly cheerful.

The two girls stared at the group with cold gazes for a few uncomfortable seconds before the girl on the lower bunk spoke up. Her voice was monotone with both a heat and coolness to it.

“Life is just wonderful. This dirty, decaying, overcrowded building is just a dream to live in. To be a home for all these discarded kids. The meals are edible, which is incredible. The rats and bed bugs make for great pets. At least Miss Alice is nice. Although thanks to people like you, there is never a shortage of newcomers to bask in this shithole.”

“Oh kids, they’re such a riot.” Alice quickly said as she closed the door on the two girls. She whispered to the group, “Humor is very important here as well. Keeps things light.”

“Well, that’s about it for now. Let’s go back downstairs and see what your assignments will be for your first day.” Alice said, still creepily cheerful.

The group followed Alice back downstairs into the office. They gathered around a table where Alice began explaining their volunteer assignments. The news was on a nearby television.

“Hey, look what’s on the news.” said one of the volunteers pointing at the t.v.

The newscaster was reporting on a story where a group of Pro-Life people beat a woman to death who had gotten an abortion.

“Wow,” said another one of the volunteers, “I can’t believe it. That’s horrific.”

“I know, right?” another responded, “She had an abortion? That slut had it coming.” The rest of the volunteers nodded in agreement.

After their assignments where dealt out, Alice showed the volunteers out. They left in a cheerful mood, excited to be so helpful and appreciated. They walked past a dead homeless man on their way out.


Neo-Nazis Love Hitler

There once was a fellow named George. George appeared to be your average man. He went to work, paid his bills, went to church, was a social person. Yada yada yada. But what was most important to George, what really made him tick, was the thought of race war. The extermination of the Jews and brown people. George… was a Neo-Nazi.

Above all else, his family, his work, his longing for ethnic-cleansing, George loved Hitler. Adolf Hitler. The hero of old. The prophet of a racially pure world. The warmonger of Nazi Germany. Hitler was the center of George’s life. He had a shrine of the dead Austrian in his home. George even prayed to Hitler. Hitler was his god.

And George loved his god. He had to protect Hitler from those that would attack his great dead leader. He had to protect Hitler from the most vile, treacherous, evil people. The people who, I can barely write it now, wished to poke a little fun at Adolf Hitler. I know, unbelievable! What kind of MONSTER, what sort of disturbing heathen would satirize Adolf Hitler! George could not stand to live in a world with these people. People who did not agree with him; people who made fun of his dead, funny-mustached, racial-purity prophet, Hitler.

But they did. Movies made fun of Hitler. Hitler was satirized in articles. His image was besmirched, sometimes even used in ironic anime imagery. The horror indeed! George could not handle such an affront to his glorious leader, an affront to his beliefs and way of life. Jokes were just too much. Something had to be done.

It was not enough to just let people express their opinions and not get all uppity when someone makes a joke. No, action had to be taken against these terrible people who partook in satire. These heretical jokesters had to be killed; they had to be brutally murdered. That is the only way to get other people to be reasonable and respectful of your beliefs. To commit violence acts upon them. George could not deduce any other course of action, it was so obvious. He could not use rational thinking, having a sense of humor, or just not being a giant dick as potential solutions. No, George knew they had to die. Because his feelings were hurt.

George knew that the time to act was now. Coincidentally, he lived in a city where a local magazine had just run a satirical article on his beloved Hitler, and had included those detestable anime images of Hitler too. Karl Weekly was the name of the magazine in which that most vile article was ran. A hive of villainy and deplorables. And the place where those evil jokesters would meet their doom. George would make sure of that.


The dawn of a new day. A day that would soon be red. George slipped on his whitey-tighties, threw on his favorite Swastika t-shirt, put on some pants, and left for his important mission. He did not even have time to watch Fox News. He got in his truck, made sure he had everything he needed in his backpack, and then drove to the offices of Karl Weekly. He pulled into a parking spot, and gazed upward, thinking about his glorious Aryan leader. The time for vengeance was now. He pulled his assault rifle out of his bag and felt the cool metal in his hands. Thank the Fuhrer for the NRA.

George left his truck and strolled up to the office of Karl Weekly. He opened the door, and walked straight in. They were so unaware, so naive of the incredible justice about to be served. Hitler would not be mocked. George’s feelings would not be hurt. “Heil Hitler!” George shouted, as he opened fire.


“Did you hear about what happened at that comic magazine Karl Weekly’s office earlier today?” asked Smitty to his friend as they ate lunch.

“No, why, what happened?” replied Steve.

“Really? You didn’t hear? There was a terrorist attack!” said Smitty, “A gunman attacked the office of Karl Weekly. He killed like 10 people and injured even more!”

“Oh shit! Why the hell would somebody do that? That’s terrible.” said Steve, shocked.

“Apparently, he was some Neo-Nazi and he didn’t like the satirical images of Hitler in their magazine. Something about anime.” replied Smitty.

“Man, that really sucks. Why do some people take themselves and their beliefs so seriously?” said Steve.

“Right? It’s like these people think they got everything figured out and there’s no way they could be wrong. It’s hubris and just plain stupid.” replied Smitty.

“Hmm, you know, are Neo-Nazis the only people like that?”

“Of course not.” said Smitty, “Of course not…”

The Day the Ass Felt No More

The day had finally come. It had been inevitable. The human race was eventually going to reach this point, and there would be no turning back. It was the day that the butthurt reached its peak and the consequences that would come. The day the ass felt no more.

It started out as a normal day. Jerry awoke at 7am, brushed his teeth, put on his clothes, ate breakfast, ready to go to work. But before he left his apartment and went forth into the streets of Washington D.C., breaking news flashed on his television screen. There were pictures of some sort of object. It was right in front of the White House, right on the lawn! As Jerry inspected the images that flashed on his television, he thought to himself, that this thing on t.v. looked awfully like something straight out of a science fiction movie. Like, a flying saucer. No fucking way.

“Yes fucking way,” the news reporter announced, “I know you were thinking it, and it appears some sort of alien spacecraft has landed on the front lawn of the White House.”

“Well, he’s not wrong.” muttered Jerry.

The newscaster continued, “The army is setting up around this mysterious ship. President Trump has been briefed on the situation as he remains safe in the White House. We do not know much at this time, but we will be covering the story as it unfolds. In other news, nobody can feel their ass anymore…”

“Damn, this is crazy!” exclaimed Jerry, “Welp, off to work!” Jerry proceeded to leave, and went to work.


It was 5pm and Jerry was back home from work. He plopped himself down on his couch, put his hands in his pants, and switched on the television.

“The military and police are still on the search for the mysterious alien.”

“Oh yeah, this is happening.” said Jerry.

The newscaster continued, “The alien looks and talks just like one of us. We advise everyone to stay indoors. If you see him, please call the police. We will now show you again what happened earlier this morning. Also, everyone’s ass? Still nothing.”

“Huh, I guess that’s why there wasn’t much traffic today, what do ya know?” said Jerry.

Jerry watched as the events earlier today unfolded on his t.v. screen. The t.v. showed the UFO sitting on the front lawn of the White House. The police and national guard had set up a perimeter around the alien object. Then, the vessel moved. What appeared to be a ramp descended from the side of the UFO. At the top of the ramp stood what appeared to be, a person.

“What a… is that… Keanu Reeves?” said Jerry.

But as the mysterious person walked down the chrome ramp, it in fact, was not Keanu Reeves.

“Oh thank god,” muttered Jerry with relief in his voice.

As the mysterious person continued descending the ramp, an even bigger figure appeared from within the spaceship. But this time, it was no person. The figure was hulking, standing well over any normal human. It was bulky with long arms that had pincers at the end. It walked on huge legs with big boots on the ground. Its head was round with a sort of visor in the middle. The monster was comprised of what seemed to be a greyish-green metal.

“A robot,” said Jerry, “Cool.”

Just then, as the mysterious person reached the bottom of the ramp, the police and national guard surrounding the spacecraft opened fire. The person who had come from the ship looked stunned at first, then bolted the fuck away.

“Damn.” said Jerry, “That guy’s pretty fast.”

But again, just then, all of a sudden, the shooting stopped. The guns, weaponry, and artillery of the police and national guard forces started to rise up into the air. After a few seconds, it all came crashing down. A light that had come on in the middle of the robot’s visor turned dark as well.

“That was weird.” said Jerry.


Jerry’s door flung open. A man came running in.

“Please, can someone help me here?” said the man quite frantically.

“Hey man, I think you got the wrong apartment.” said Jerry.

The man stopped in the living room, looking on edge. He whipped his head around and looked at Jerry, still sitting on the couch with his hands down his pants.

“Dude, like, this is my apartment and…” said Jerry.

“Please, can you help me?” said the man to Jerry, a little slower than before. Jerry didn’t move, hoping the man would just go away. “Do you not know who I am? Does your planet not have ways to communicate information to its denizens? You would think the arrival of your first extra-terrestrials would be more of an…event”

As the man spoke, Jerry began to think. This man seemed familiar. Like he knew him from somewhere.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” said Jerry. The man looked around, and saw the television. He looked back at Jerry, pointing at the t.v. screen. The news station was displaying a close up of the mysterious man from the UFO.

“…Hey, oh shit, you’re the guy from the thing!” said Jerry with a little more enthusiasm than normal. The mysterious man stared at Jerry with a look of disbelief.

“Yes, I am the guy from the, thing.” said the mysterious man, dumbfounded. “My name is Keantwo. I come as an ambassador from the Alliance of Planets bearing grave news for your people. Your planet has been infected with a disease. A disease the rest of the galaxy cannot allow to fester and spread.” Jerry scratched his nuts.

Keantwo continued, “Butthurt. Butthurt has grown out of control on your planet, it has spread like a plague and it cannot be allowed to fester any longer. Your planet always had much butthurt. The humans of Earth have always gotten so upset at the most objectively stupid things. Like, its honestly unbelievable how stupid. You all have your own opinions, your own sides, your own parties that create narratives or pick facts that best supports your own beliefs. And if someone hears something they don’t agree with or offends them even in the slightest way, well, then the butthurt grows. And it has grown out of control. It must be stopped, or your world will be destroyed as a precaution.”

“Huh, I always thought “butthurt” was just a word edgy tweens used on the internet. Whadayaknow?” said Jerry.

Keantwo ignored Jerry’s response and continued, “I have come to Earth to warn your people about your impending collective doom, but I have also come to save you! Yes, the Earth can still be saved! We can alleviate the butthurt! But I need your help, uhh…”

“I’m Jerry,” said Jerry, “And you need my help?”

“Yes Jerry. Though it literally pains me to say this, I need your help. When I was fleeing from your military forces after they TRIED TO KILL ME! (Though I probably shouldn’t complain too much, since I did just show up from outer space when your planet has had no contact with extra-terrestrials yet)… Anyway, when I was fleeing, I checked my Butthurt Detector to make sure the readings that we took off-planet matched. And, to my shock, they were even higher. Butthurt is growing at an exponential rate. But, on my radar, I found a blimp of non-butthurt. Someone or something immune to the disease. And that has led me here, to, you,” finished Keantwo, with a slight droop as Jerry scratched his nuts again.

“So what do you want me to do?” asked Jerry.

“We need to get back to my ship. If we are going to save Earth from butthurt, we first need to stop its destruction by him.

“Ok. We can take my car,” said Jerry, “I guess you don’t have to pitch in some gas money since you were shot at today and that probably sucked but it would be nice.”

“Let’s just go quickly, we can decide on such matters later.” assured Keantwo.

“Alright, my car is out front of the building,” said Jerry, leading Keantwo. Jerry meandered down to his car with Keantwo urgently following behind. The two got into the car and Jerry drove off towards the White House.

The two unlikely companions drove towards the White House. Jerry liked to go about five to ten miles per hour over the speed limit, but no more. They waited at a stoplight.

“Can we not get around these people? Our mission is very urgent.” Keantwo said with a hurried voice.

“No man, it’s a red light. Duh.” said Jerry, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, then let me tell you what you need to know now.” said Keantwo with an urgency that Jerry just didn’t seem to get. Jerry farted. “We must get back to where my ship landed because we must stop him. If we do not stop him soon, our chance to save your planet will be gone for good. Like fighting fire with fire, he will soon destroy your planet with his Butth-” The light had turned green, and the flow of traffic had allowed Jerry to drive forward. But, as Keantwo talked, a tractor trailer barreled into their car. An absurd coincidence, I know.

Jerry was dazed by the impact, but came to quickly. He looked over to see if his passenger was ok, but he was not in his seat. He looked out of the shattered windshield and saw the body of Keantwo laying on the asphalt.

“Damn,” muttered Jerry. He got out of the car and ran over to Keantwo.

“I’m so *cough* sorry,” said the truck driver, opening his door, beginning to crawl out, “I just- I just can’t feel my ass, it hurt so much after I looked at social media, but now- now I can’t feel anyth-” The truck driver let out another bloody cough and fell to the ground.

“Hey, buddy, you ok,” said Jerry as he knelt beside Keantwo, “Thought we had to go to the White House or something?”

“Jerry, come, closer,” said Keantwo weakly, Jerry inched in a bit. “Jerry, you must go to where my ship landed. You must stop him. You must tell him these three words.”

“These three words?” said Jerry. “That’s it? Ok.”

“What?” asked Keantwo, then realizing what Jerry thought, “Oh god, your species is doomed.” And Keantwo died.

“I guess I have to save the world then. Fun.” said Jerry. He commandeered a nearby bicycle and rode off towards the White House. “I can stop the butthurt. I can stop him from destroying the world. I can stop President Trump.”


Jerry finally arrived at the site where Keantwo’s ship had touched down. The national guard had set up a perimeter around the White House and the ship. Jerry tried to get through the perimeter, but he was blocked by a guard.

“I cannot let you through sir, this zone is off limits.” instructed the guard.

“Please, I have to get through! It’s a matter of life and death! For everyone! I think!” said Jerry.

“Alright,” said the guard, letting Jerry through, “That’s good enough for me. This story is taking too long anyway.”

Jerry rushed past the guards. He ran towards the White House. He knew what he had to do. He had to stop Trump. But, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the robot that came to Earth with Keantwo walking aboard the spacecraft. Jerry looked at the White House, then looked at the robot, looked back at the White House, then ran off onto the spacecraft. Oh god no.

Jerry ran up the metallic ramp of the ship from outer space. Inside the ship was a large, circular room. The walls were lined with various machines, computers, and other futuristic looking things. In the middle of the room was a big cylinder-like machine of sorts. The robot stood next to it.

Jerry ran up to the robot, looking it up and down. A wave of awe was upon his face. “Damn, you’re so cooooool.” said Jerry.

“Thank you,” said the robot, “I am very cool. I am here to cleanse this world. Where is Keantwo?”

“Keantwo?” asked Jerry, “Who- oh yeah, right, that guy. Keantwo is gone! It is up to us to stop Trump. To stop the Butthurt!”

“You misunderstand,” said the robot methodically, turning towards Jerry, “I am the Butthurt.”

“Wait, what? I feel like this is bad?” asked Jerry.

Oh god no. The cleansing had begun.

The Great Californian Civil War

“Will you tell me a story, Pop pop?” the young lad said, looking up at his grandfather. The old man looked down kindly on the child sitting on his lap.

“Sure, which story would you like this time Henry?”

“Tell me about California.” replied Henry.

“Oh, California. What would you like to hear about that land of old? Its golden beaches? Its immense cities? Or maybe Hollywood, the doomed mecca of the most obnoxious and pretentiousness people the world has ever known?.” asked Pop Pop.

“I want to hear about the Second Civil War.” said Henry, ignoring his grandfather’s suggestions.

“The War?” asked Pop pop, obviously startled, “How do you know about that?”

“I overheard my dad talking about it on the phone. It seemed to be very interesting to him.”

“I do not think that would be a good story to tell.” replied Henry’s grandfather, “I’m not comfortable telling such a terrible and gruesome tale to my young grandson.”

“Pleeeeeease Pop Pop, pleeeeease. I can handle it!” whined Henry.

Pop pop replied, “I do not think your parents would like me telling you about a war, especially about such a brutal one in of that.”

“Please Pop pop! I won’t tell mom and dad!.”

“Well…” said Pop pop, mulling it over in his mind, “I guess it can’t hurt, you are a brave little boy.”

“Yes I am!” Henry replied enthused.

“Ok,” said Pop pop, looking into the distance, “It started long ago. The golden-maned God-Emperor had just been elected. His election brought great joy, and great sorrow. It brought much unity, and much division. The most sorrowful, the most angry, the most alienated place was California. Its people could not come to terms with the election. It ate away at them. It infected them. It consumed them in fear, and that fear turned to hate, and that hate turned to anger. Dissent grew throughout the state of California. The Californians began to think: ‘Why should we be part of the United States. Why should we be part of a county that elects such a foul, cruel, orange beast? Why should anybody else have a say but us?’”

“So then what did they do Pop pop?” asked Henry.

Pop pop began again, “They broke away. California seceded from the Union. The stage had been set. The U.S. could not afford to let California leave. Though how much every other American felt relieved that California finally left, the golden state could not be allowed to leave. Insubordination would not be tolerated, it would set a bad precedent. Swift action had to be taken.”

“Oh boi, this is gunna be gud.”

“What?” chimed Pop Pop.

“Oh, nothing, just excited for this part.” replied Henry.

“I don’t know if its a part to be very excited about,” continued Henry’s grandfather with a quick glare, “The fighting was brutal. The drone strikes came first. Predator missiles were launched across California. The Californians weren’t prepared. Smoothie bars, tanning stations, and yoga studios were hit the hardest, for good reason. The Californians sustained heavy casualties and their way of life was shattered in mere moments. Panic swept through the land. But the U.S. forgot the most important place in California. The seat from which the rest of the state was controlled and its influence sent out into the world.


“Where all the Indians are?” asked Henry.

“Wah, what? No. That’s Bollywood.” said Pop pop.

“Oh, ok.”

Pop pop continued with a huff,“Alright, of course, the U.S. had targeted the unholy enclave of crime and villainy in the initial bombardment, but they were lax in their assault. The pompous citizens of Hollywood had survived, cowering in the dark like cockroaches. And the cockroaches emerged. The elite of Hollywood were completely unscathed, hiding in their diamond-crusted fortress mansions. It was now time for California to strike back. The elite of Hollywood called their forces to them, from all across the state. They would create a mighty army to bring the war to the United States. And who better to do this than the old fake battle-hardened, fake war dog, and fake boxing champion, Sylvester Stallone.”

“Then what happened Pop pop?” said Henry

“Stallone gathered the strongest, smartest, and most tan Californians he could muster. All adept in the art of fake fighting, fake war. All important to the independence struggle of their great state. The Indispensables. Stallone knew he could not win an open war with the United States with his small yet elite force of fake warriors. They would have one opportunity to strike the United States, to hit them fast and hard. To win their independence with one fell swoop. Their target: the McDonald’s Headquarters in Oak Brook, Illinois.”

“Why was that Pop pop?” inquired Henry.

“You see Henry, McDonald’s was the life-blood of the American way of life,” answered Pop pop, his glare becoming harder then relaxing as he spoke, “All Americans ate McDonald’s, growing fatter and fatter. Yet McDonald’s was more than just food. McDonald’s was America. And Stallone knew that. Stallone and 20 of his best fake soldiers from his crew commandeered a replica B-52 bomber and piled in. The United States government was not expecting retaliation after their storm of drone strikes; they thought they had subdued California from the get-go. But it was not so. Stallone’s aircraft, now dubbed the Roaring Vegan, was able to bypass the little defenses that the U.S. had placed around the golden state. After that, the Roaring Vegan had clear skies to Oak Brook, Illinois. It took a long time, but the Californians eventually reached their goal. Now, the rest of the story is only legend. But, legend has it that the headquarters of McDonald’s were two giant golden arches. And Stallone, being the fake daring leader that he was, landed that plane right on top of a golden arch. Stallone and his fake warriors rappelled down the side of the arch and found an entry point. Again, this is all legend. After fighting through dozens of the most obese McDonald’s security guards, one fatter than the last, they found the key to ending the conflict that they had been searching for.”

“What was it Pop pop?” asked Henry excitingly.

“The secret formula.” uttered Pop pop. “McDonald’s drew all their strength and power from this one tiny document, enclosed in a glass bottle. The secret to the unyielding deliciousness of their food, the food that had become the backbone of America. The foundation on which the United States stood. And the foundation that Stallone was about to break. Though his small force of Indispensables had sustained heavy losses, Stallone and his remaining five fake warriors broke into the secret vault, and stole the secret formula. The fight was brutal on their way out as well, but with their intense training of the fake warrior arts, Stallone escaped with two men, and the secret formula.”

“What happened the-”

“WILL YOU LET ME FINISH THE STORY YOU INTERRUPTING BRAT!” screamed Pop pop at Henry. Henry sat startled and waited for Pop pop to finish the story. “Now then, with the loss of their secret formula, McDonald’s collapsed. Figuratively and literally. Their golden arches came tumbling down. You know that scene in The Lord of the Rings when Sauron is finally defeated. Yeah, just like that. Anyway, now with McDonald’s gone, Stallone knew that the United States could no longer wage a war on California and their independence was assured.”

“So, the Californian’s won?” asked Henry. Pop pop gave Henry a death-stare for interrupting again. Henry knew what he had done.

“No. Stallone and the other Californians forgot one important thing. That there were other franchises eager to take the place of McDonald’s. The Land of McDonald’s became the Land of… Burger King. The Californians were bombed into submission, which is why the California Wastes are such a huge tourist spot to this day, with plenty of places to get a Whopper.”

“Wow. That’s stupid.” said Henry, who was promptly hit by his grandfather.

Trump on the High Seas

It is sometime in February, 2017. Donald Trump is President of the United States. Though he has only had the job for a short time, he has made it his mission to sail the high seas in his newly refurbished, now presidential, yacht; The Floating Wall. Thus we begin on open ocean with Trump and his second-in-command, Mike Pence.

The wind howls. Gusts violently assault the sails of the Floating Wall. Rain smashes onto the yacht. The storm is on a mission to destroy anything in its path. Trump is undaunted. He stands erect at the bow of the Wall, golden mane flying boldly with every new gust of wind. The ocean churns and pounds against the star-spangled sides of the Wall. Too strong is the vessel against such pitiful affronts, just as the one on the American border will be.

“Sir, you must come inside! It is too dangerous out here in the storm!”

The President glances back at the cabin. It is Mike. Trump smirks and turns back towards the dark ocean. Pence has a strong demeanor, but is still soft inside like most other establishment Republicans. He has his uses.

“Donald, please come inside the cabin! Ever since you defeated that nasty women on November 9th, the water levels have risen exponentially!” cries the VP, “Liberal tears have flooded the waters and made the oceans angry and unsuitable for navigation!”

“Nothing will stop me from my quest!” Trump yells back, keeping he gaze fixed upon the churning waters. “I will be fulfilled” he mumbles under his breath.

*CRASH* A giant wave hits the side the yacht.

“We must turn back, sir!” Pence pleads, slowly making his way over the Trump, “We can not risk it, our reign has just begun!”

Trump spins around to face his frightened VP, his stern gaze locking onto Pence’s face. “Our reign has begun, which is exactly why we must be out here… Now.” says Trump, becoming irritated at Pence’s barrage of pitiful pleas. “I finally have the jurisdiction and fire power to achieve the greatest goal of all.” Trump turns back around to face the cold, bleak ocean. An ocean trying so hard to stop the Donald. Trying, but utterly failing.

“I am sorry for any annoyance I may have caused, I am only concerned for your well-being, that is all Mr. President.” Pence manages to reply meekly, thrusting forward on shaking legs to grab the hand-railing next to Trump. Pence waits a minute before asking his next question that sits on the edge of his tongue. He gazes longingly at the face of his President, mouth pursed like a puckered butthole expecting its first penetration. “Donald?”

Trump looks over at his VP who is giving him the usual puppy-dog face. He can never stay angry at that face. “Yes Pence?”

“What is this grand quest we, err, you are on right now?”

Trump stares at Pence for a few seconds, mulling if his timid VP is ready for the truth. A coy smile slowly appears on the President’s face. “You will know soon enough Mike.” Trump says as cooly as one can in a battering storm, “Have faith, my loyal VP. You will know soon enough, and I will need your help when the time comes.” Trump turns once again back to the black ocean. The angry ocean that should be afraid as its waves break violently but harmlessly on the sides of the Floating Wall. Pence looks at his stoic President for a brief moment, taken by his strong, stubborn demeanor and golden locks of hair that seem to be attempting to escape their horrible captivity with each gust of wind. Mike turns to face the ocean himself, cheeks warm and red from a sense of excitement.

*CRASH* Another giant wave smashes into the side of the yacht.

“Donald, look!” Pence points to a spot in the ocean a little ways off from the bow of the Floating Wall. The water is beginning to break at the spot that Pence has pointed out. A dark object is underneath the water, growing with each passing second.

“Wha- what is that? Could it be a, uh, a Russian submarine?” Pence hurriedly yells out.

“That is no submarine.” Trump joyfully replies, “And even if it was the Russians, Putin and I have joint jurisdiction over the world, you know that Pence. We are best friends.”

“Oh yes, of, of course…” squeaks from Pence. If only Donald thought of him as his best friend. Or more…

“No, that is no submarine!” exclaims Trump, slapping Pence on the back, almost sending the VP hurdling into the ocean depths. “That, is the quest, the goal I have been seeking for so long. Donald Trump, now President Trump, will have her!”

At that moment, the water burst open as if giving birth to a primordial demon. Trump lets out a mighty roar. Pence stares at the gargantuan being that has emerged from the angry ocean, soaring into the air before crashing back down onto the black waters.

“Rosie O’Donnell…I can’t believe it.” Pence stutters.

“Yes! After all this time, the long years planning and preparing, winning the United States presidency, I will have my ultimate revenge!” yells Trump, his tiny hands grasping the hand-railing as if a pussy were in front of them. “She will be mine!”

“I see now,” Pence says, realizing the truth, “This whole time, this has been your ultimate quest, finding this… this beast!”

Killing this beast,” Trump replies quickly, spinning to lock eyes with Pence, “And not just a beast. A whale. Such a nasty whale. After her!”

The pair stand together, locked in their statures.

“Who’s piloting the ship?” Trump says, still looking intently forward at his soon-to-be prize.

“I believe we have Ricardo piloting the ship Mr. President.”

“Well, go tell him ‘after her!’ We must follow her!” yells Trump. Pence scurries away to tell Ricardo the orders.

“These illegals, they have their uses too. Too bad for Ricardo, he’ll have to go back too once this is finished. And he’s one of the good hombres.” Trump says to himself, still staring at O’Donnell, submerged just beneath the water and gaining distance from the Floating Wall. Suddenly, the yacht jerked forward, Ricardo has put the ship into full steam ahead. Indeed, the arrow on the dial in the navigation room pointed to “full steam ahead.” The race was on.

“Yes!” roared Trump, chest thrust into the air, pointing at the whale in front of him, “You will soon be mine!” Trump let out a mighty laugh, a laugh that rivaled the storm’s fury. O’Donnell had gained a distance between herself and the presidential yacht, but that soon would change. The Floating Wall was gaining speed. O’Donnell was a fast beast, her fins occasionally breaking through and glistening above the dark water. But she would never be able to escape the Floating Wall. Not only was it an excellent and incredibly fast sea-faring vehicle, Trump had imbued it with his own willpower, confidence, and doucheiness. It was unbeatable. Within a few moments, the Trump-bearing yacht had caught up to its prey.

“Now is the time! Finally!” Donald yelled, leaning over the side of the yacht to better see his prey, “Pence! Get the harpoon gun ready!”


“Be right there, Mr. Presi…” Pence quickly cupped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide open. He rushed over the edge of the boat to barf. The extra speed of the Floating Wall had gotten to the VP. Donald would remember this.

“Are you ready now Pence? Can we get on to my greatest glory now, please?” Trump said, overtly sarcastic.

“Ugh, uhh, Yes! Right away, sir” stammered Pence, moving quickly as he could to the large object in the middle of the boat. When he reached it, he pulled off the tarp, revealing the harpoon gun. The gun that would bring the Donald ultimate justice. Golden plated with diamond-tipped harpoons, it was a magnificent tool. And it was the gun to bring down O’ Donnell.

“Hurry now Pence, let’s go, get that thing over here!” shouted Trump. “This is it. With this yuge gun, against this yuge whale, on this yuge yacht, with my yuge ego, I will be victorious! It will be YUGEEEEEEEEEEE!” Trump shoved his small fists into the air, seeming to bait the storm itself. Pence wheeled the harpoon gun to the edge of the yacht, next to Trump, the diamond-tipped spear ready to pierce the hide of its target. Trump looked over the great machine, sweeping his gaze across its surface with a grand smile on his face. He gave the golden machine a few good slaps on its side.

“Yes, yes, a good weapon, is it not Pence?” Trump asked.

“Yes sir, a goo-”

“WRONG!” Trump interrupted, “It is a great weapon. Now, let us finish this!”

Trump jumped behind the harpoon gun, pushing Pence out of the way. The VP fell back, landing straight on his ass. He was shocked at first, but as Pence looked up at Trump, strong and confident, he felt a warm feeling grow inside of himself.

The storm stopped. The rain stopped. The waves stopped. The perfect opportunity, Trump aimed the weapon towards his prey. O’Donnell still remained just below the surface, her scaly flesh now visible from the President’s viewpoint. Trump’s breathing became slow and heavy. The moment was so close at hand. Time seemed to stop itself.

Then, suddenly, the beast emerged. Rosie O’ Donnell soared into the air, water spurting from her blowhole.

“Yes! You are mine, foul whale. My DESTINY!” Trump screamed into sky. Just as Rosie reached the peak of her jump, Trump fired.


“A splendid job Mr President,” Pence says excitingly, his eyes still wide with awe, “What a glorious day for you, and for America.”

“Yes, but especially glorious for me.” replies Trump, standing stoic on the deck before the Floating Wall. The corpse of the skewered whale floated behind the yacht, harpoon jutting from its side. She was no match for Donald Trump.

“With your ultimate quest complete, what will we do now?” Pence asks.

“Well, we can also bomb the shit out of-” Trump says, cutting himself short. Before he finishes his statement, he catches Pence’s face in his gaze. That cute face. The silver hair. The doll-like figure and glassy eyes. Trump did not know how he never noticed it before. Maybe it was the obsession he had over taking down O’ Donnell. Maybe. But now he say Pence in a new light. And a new feeling welled itself inside of Trump.


“Yes, Mr. President?”

“Come here.” Trump reached forward and pulled Pence in. Their bodies embraced together, they pressed their mouths together, seemingly trying to suck whatever they could out of their prune-ish bodies. Though there was no pussy to grab, Pence’s solid butt would do. And anyway, Pence was enough of a pussy himself to suffice. After enough time had passed to satisfy Donald, their kiss ended.

“Oh, Donald,” Pence mused, laying his head on Trump’s chest, “Finally, my ultimate quest has been fulfilled. But look!”

A group of black vans approaches.

“That must be ICE.” Donald said, turning to look back at the yacht, giving a thumbs up to Ricardo who is still on the Floating Wall, “Time to go back to Taco-land buddy!”

“Fucking dick.” Ricardo murmurs.