Donald Fauntleroy Trump was born. This remarkable achievement was enough for his parents to praise him as a “king.” During the rest of his childhood, young Donny roamed American Midwest backyards with his pet tiger, behaving and growing taller as any six-year-old is wont to do.
When he came of age
…about ten years older and ten feet taller, young Donald’s nascent debts and nearness to enlistment age drove him to school in Italy, where he imperiously threw chalkboard erasers at teachers, had to be dragged kicking and screaming to mandatory Catholic Mass, stabbed a fellow student, and gained a reputation as a rabble-rouser and il Maschio.
…with some one hundred and sixty-nine mistresses, though propagating rumors of several hundreds, The Donald leveraged his way by bullying their cuckolded husbands into a position of some prominence. He made a name for himself all throughout the nation by breaking countless unspoken societal rules, proving himself special through every conventional infraction. It is said that during this phase of his life that he built walls around the Roman Empire (at its greatest expanse) and all of the Vatican, re-christening himself “The Great.”
Bored with Europe
…Trump returned to America to capitalize on his newly acquired foreign manners. Among these, chiefly, were: building massive urban monuments to himself, an obsession with cosmetic care, and socialism. It was about this time, with the advent of his orange-er hues, that otherwise inexplicable appearances of him during the Fall months prompted many misguided schoolchildren to know him as a supernatural being renowned for moments of exceptional sincerity—in their own words, “The Great Pumpkin.”
Back in the States
…Trump won acclaim from every corner of the earth for his “Faustian deals.” This language of “Faustian” faded over time, leading to some speculation that, when the sound of the exotic word mesmerized him in Europe, he had tried it out for himself without understanding what it actually means. Others say that Trump was deliberately cultivating a “bad boy” persona, while a sliver hold that Trump was trying to channel the force behind the German word for “fist,” Faust.
It was in this stage of his life
…that Trump returned to his hometown and, through a series of sports wagers, became mayor. This glitzy episode included Trump’s living in a penthouse, surrounded by gorgeous female bodies and presiding over a literal dumpster fire of a town, devoted to motorcycle gangs, cards, dice, random fire, theft, gambling, darkness, dancing, drunkenness, and many such-like liberties of sin. After his third wedding, burgeoning with politicians, Trump decided that his next most lucrative opportunity was the U.S. Presidency.
No one can be sure where Trump is headed next. It might be the Papacy, or Scotland, or Mars. He was last seen somewhere in America, the victim of unaccountably slapstick violence, “quacking” semi-intelligibly, and wearing no pants.