The Last Days of Donald Trump

Donald Trump lay in his coffin today as the last strains of Coronavirus ate away at his intestines. He vomited twice, then unleashed a tidal wave of diarrhea not seen since his State of the Union Address, then he slumped over directly into a casket waiting for him while throngs of Jesus freaks lifted him toward the altar of the Crystal Cathedral in Orange County because O.C. citizens are the only shitforbrains dumb enough to host this funeral.

Donald’s obese gut jutted out of the casket opening stark naked and covered in body hair infested with fifty species of lice and maggots, but it didn’t stop Melania and Ivanka from rushing the altar, stripping off their clothing and dunking their heads into the vast abyss that is his crotch. And while they were slurping up the remnants of rotting Republican dick, Melania lifted her empty head and smiled.

This must be how it felt on the first Christmas Eve when the Prince of Darkness devoured the Baby Jesus, she thought. Then the streams of urine flowed into the casket, as we know Trump urine is flammable. Young Ivanka lit a match and Donny went up in flames.

And First Daughter rose from the ashes, sacrificing Jared Kushner for no particular reason other than being a massive douchebag.

And the choir sang his praises, groping for words to describe the Republican victories of the past four years. “Yes, we have replaced them.”

And the earth opened up, and swallowed the Crystal Cathedral. And their brand of white male worshiping Christianity died with them.

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