This is a great story, but damn! It's like "The Lady and the Tiger," where the reader has to decide the ending!
I think The Donald tries to make a bargain with God, offering a lot of money or some such thing, but does not succeed and ends up in hell with the demons.
Donald wouldn’t try to change ever. He would do as Kathy says and try to bargain his way out because he would not have a clue how to do something as radical as become a nice person.
Jack, this is great! Very creative and entertaining! It's 12:11 a.m., and I don't remember smiling all day. I'm going to try to write a response this weekend. But, I truly enjoyed it!
He stood still, wings folded, eyes clear. “Well?” he asked.
Trump sat slouched in a gold embroidered chair in his bedroom, the Bible tossed onto the floor beside an open bag of McDonald’s. He didn’t stand. He didn’t blink.
“I don’t accept this,” Trump said. “None of this is real. This is fake. You’re fake. I choose my own reality.”
Michael tilted his head, saying nothing.
Trump gestured toward the air. “I’m the chosen one. People tell me I’m the best president in history. I’ve done more for religion than Jesus, okay? This dream? This offer? It doesn’t matter. Because nothing matters but me.”
He leaned back, smugness creeping in like pathogenic mildew. “I’ll create my own kingdom. No rules. No repentance. Just ratings.”
Michael looked at him, not with anger, but pity.
“You already knew,” the angel said softly, “this is how it would end. You’re a psychopath. You can’t see past your reflection.”
Then Michael vanished for the final time.
Trump was alone.
The silence deepened. Outside, the morning sun painted golden light across the White House lawn. Inside, the room held its breath.
And then—
A soft click.
The sound of gas flowing.
The electronic tick-tick-tick of the pilot light.
The ignition waiting.
Waiting.
Epilogue
When the silence returned, it stayed, but this time, it was the good kind. Not the silence of fear, but of relief. The air changed. The weight that had pressed down on the soul of a nation began to lift, almost imperceptibly at first, like the easing of pressure after a storm no one believed would end.
The horror was gone. Not redeemed. Not transformed. Just… gone. And with it, the cruel spell that had warped truth, choked kindness, and crowned ego as a god. There would be no martyrdom, no monument, no lingering myth, only the quiet disappearance of a man who could never become what he pretended to be.
Across the land, something subtle happened: people began to breathe again. Long-held breaths were released. Shoulders softened. Hearts, clenched for years, unfurled like fists opening in sleep. Laughter returned, tentative at first, then contagious. And somewhere, a church without walls began to form, not of stone, but of shared humanity. A church without slogans. Without idols. Just people, weary but willing, turning back toward one another.
The mirror He once held up still stands. And now, at last, we dare to look in.
We remember who we are.
And for the first time in a long time, it feels like morning.
He will bargain first promise the world but he’s incapable of changing his dna so he will fail miserably! I hope this day comes soon before he destroys anything else!
I'm not so sure he feels like a loser. He's imposed his hate, cruelty, and mob boss rule on millions who are starving because of it, and will have polio and other horrible and fatal diseases. Children and as yet unborn children will suffer and die. He thinks he's the greatest person who ever lived or ever will. It may not sound like it, but I have always had compassion for everyone, because that's the way compassion works- you either have it for everyone or you don't have it at all. But he's causing me a moral struggle that I'm not sure I will overcome. If I can't, then I will not be able to call myself compassionate any more, which causes me immense sorrow.
He'll head straight for the infernal regions, file 50 lawsuits claiming Beelzebub rigged the election, foment an insurrection with 6000 imps singing "🎶 Oh, we'll hang Stinky Satan from a sour apple tree... 🎶 and usurp the Suzerainty of Hell.
Trump would try to act with humility and consideration for the needs of others, but he would fail as he has never thought of others and doesn’t even know where to begin. It’s one of the few times that he would cry.
I do not think he would try at all. If he could think or behave in that way he would not be the horribly mean, cruel, only-thinks-of-himself person he is. He likes himself just fine and thinks he's perfect. He really does. He is incapable of crying.
I would not be surprised at this ending. My thought was that the stakes are so high, that DJT would attempt snd fail efforts to have compassion and have humility in his actions, if he tries, I do believe he is doomed to failure
This is great. He'd pick hell- he has already imposed his version of it here. And he loves it. The cruelty, the lies, the perversion. The one problem I see is that the devil won't want him down there, because he'd try to take it over too. There will have to be a whole new level of hell for him to run. And all his minions will be there, since they all kiss his behind and call it ice cream now. They will find it warm and melted down there and still lick it up.
I really can’t see him changing into a more compassionate person. He can’t because those emotions are not present in his psyche. It’s apples and oranges to him, a language he simply does not understand.
He burns in hell. He'll never change.
Thanks for contributing, Lorri
This is a great story, but damn! It's like "The Lady and the Tiger," where the reader has to decide the ending!
I think The Donald tries to make a bargain with God, offering a lot of money or some such thing, but does not succeed and ends up in hell with the demons.
Thank you for participating.
Donald wouldn’t try to change ever. He would do as Kathy says and try to bargain his way out because he would not have a clue how to do something as radical as become a nice person.
Nope, he doesn't have clue.
Oh he’ll burn…forever!
thank you for your contribution
Jack, this is great! Very creative and entertaining! It's 12:11 a.m., and I don't remember smiling all day. I'm going to try to write a response this weekend. But, I truly enjoyed it!
SB, I'm happy you enjoyed my post.
--------------------
The sun rose.
Michael returned, radiant and grave.
He stood still, wings folded, eyes clear. “Well?” he asked.
Trump sat slouched in a gold embroidered chair in his bedroom, the Bible tossed onto the floor beside an open bag of McDonald’s. He didn’t stand. He didn’t blink.
“I don’t accept this,” Trump said. “None of this is real. This is fake. You’re fake. I choose my own reality.”
Michael tilted his head, saying nothing.
Trump gestured toward the air. “I’m the chosen one. People tell me I’m the best president in history. I’ve done more for religion than Jesus, okay? This dream? This offer? It doesn’t matter. Because nothing matters but me.”
He leaned back, smugness creeping in like pathogenic mildew. “I’ll create my own kingdom. No rules. No repentance. Just ratings.”
Michael looked at him, not with anger, but pity.
“You already knew,” the angel said softly, “this is how it would end. You’re a psychopath. You can’t see past your reflection.”
Then Michael vanished for the final time.
Trump was alone.
The silence deepened. Outside, the morning sun painted golden light across the White House lawn. Inside, the room held its breath.
And then—
A soft click.
The sound of gas flowing.
The electronic tick-tick-tick of the pilot light.
The ignition waiting.
Waiting.
Epilogue
When the silence returned, it stayed, but this time, it was the good kind. Not the silence of fear, but of relief. The air changed. The weight that had pressed down on the soul of a nation began to lift, almost imperceptibly at first, like the easing of pressure after a storm no one believed would end.
The horror was gone. Not redeemed. Not transformed. Just… gone. And with it, the cruel spell that had warped truth, choked kindness, and crowned ego as a god. There would be no martyrdom, no monument, no lingering myth, only the quiet disappearance of a man who could never become what he pretended to be.
Across the land, something subtle happened: people began to breathe again. Long-held breaths were released. Shoulders softened. Hearts, clenched for years, unfurled like fists opening in sleep. Laughter returned, tentative at first, then contagious. And somewhere, a church without walls began to form, not of stone, but of shared humanity. A church without slogans. Without idols. Just people, weary but willing, turning back toward one another.
The mirror He once held up still stands. And now, at last, we dare to look in.
We remember who we are.
And for the first time in a long time, it feels like morning.
--------------------
You are such a good writer.
Nice.....
He will bargain first promise the world but he’s incapable of changing his dna so he will fail miserably! I hope this day comes soon before he destroys anything else!
there’s that
He doesn’t know what it’s like to not be in hell. His entire life he has felt like a nobody, a loser. He would choose to burn in hell.
Nice observation.
I'm not so sure he feels like a loser. He's imposed his hate, cruelty, and mob boss rule on millions who are starving because of it, and will have polio and other horrible and fatal diseases. Children and as yet unborn children will suffer and die. He thinks he's the greatest person who ever lived or ever will. It may not sound like it, but I have always had compassion for everyone, because that's the way compassion works- you either have it for everyone or you don't have it at all. But he's causing me a moral struggle that I'm not sure I will overcome. If I can't, then I will not be able to call myself compassionate any more, which causes me immense sorrow.
He'll head straight for the infernal regions, file 50 lawsuits claiming Beelzebub rigged the election, foment an insurrection with 6000 imps singing "🎶 Oh, we'll hang Stinky Satan from a sour apple tree... 🎶 and usurp the Suzerainty of Hell.
Mercy...that was good
Good one
I would just point out that he would love that and would settle into hell and make it worse.
Trump is incapable of change for the better. He can only get worse. He would probably summon his military brass and declare war on "the Boss."
Trump would try to act with humility and consideration for the needs of others, but he would fail as he has never thought of others and doesn’t even know where to begin. It’s one of the few times that he would cry.
I do not think he would try at all. If he could think or behave in that way he would not be the horribly mean, cruel, only-thinks-of-himself person he is. He likes himself just fine and thinks he's perfect. He really does. He is incapable of crying.
I would not be surprised at this ending. My thought was that the stakes are so high, that DJT would attempt snd fail efforts to have compassion and have humility in his actions, if he tries, I do believe he is doomed to failure
This is great. He'd pick hell- he has already imposed his version of it here. And he loves it. The cruelty, the lies, the perversion. The one problem I see is that the devil won't want him down there, because he'd try to take it over too. There will have to be a whole new level of hell for him to run. And all his minions will be there, since they all kiss his behind and call it ice cream now. They will find it warm and melted down there and still lick it up.
Nice....
One response was.....he chooses hell and then outwits Satan and takes over. 😆
Well, at least he wouldn't be here tormenting us!
I really can’t see him changing into a more compassionate person. He can’t because those emotions are not present in his psyche. It’s apples and oranges to him, a language he simply does not understand.
He sold his soul a NO RETURN POLICY for one as corrupt as him!
This was an enjoyable read and provided interaction by the readers … well done.