Donald Trump wins a Second Term

Planet Earth falls into darkness. A chill breeze wafts across the land, sending shivers down the spines of American voters.

Donald J. Trump wins another election.

On stage, the former President waves to his loyal followers, thanks them for believing in him, then scoots backstage where a small army of Secret Service agents escort him to a limo.

President Trump unbuttons his top shirt button and sighs with relief.

Suddenly, his cell phone rings.

"Hello?" Donald says.

"Congratulations, Mr. President," a cheery female voice says. "I have Vladimir Putin on the line. Will you take the call?"

"I don’t think I have a choice," Donald laughs, then stops. "Wait, who are you? You don’t sound like any of my sexy, bombshell assistants."

"No worries, Mr. President," the cheery female voice says. "I will be transferring many important calls to you throughout your second term as the 47th President of the United States. But we will never meet in person. Here’s Mr. Putin now."

A ringtone hums darkly. Then:

"Donald!" Putin says. "You have succeeded, finally!"

"Poo-poo!" Trump says. "I knew you’d be the first to call."

"We have much work to do, comrade," Putin says. "Mother Russia has a long list of orders that only you must carry out."

"I am at your service, Poo-Poo," says Trump.

Suddenly, the dark ringtone hums again.

"Sorry, Poo-Poo, I’ll have to call you back," Trump says as he switches lines.

"Yes?"

"Mr. President," says the cheery female voice. "I have Jeffrey Epstein on the line."

"Jeffrey?" Trump asks. "Didn’t he kill himself?"

"Transferring now," says the cheery female voice.

"Donald, baby!" Jeffrey Epstein says. "Congratulations! I knew you could do it!"

"Jeffrey!" Trump says. "But how are you alive?"

"I faked my death, of course!" says Jeffrey. "Why, I’m sitting here with Elvis and Marilyn Monroe right now!"

"Really?"

"No, just kidding," says Jeffrey. "Anyway, I need a favor, Donny baby. I need you to grant me a pardon."

Another ringtone, but an octave deeper in tone.

"Okay, hold on, Jeff," says Trump. "We’ll work something out. But I have to take this call."

Trump switches lines.

"Mr. President," says a cheery female voice. "I have Mother Nature on the line."

"Mother Nature?" Trump asks. "Like the weather lady on TV?"

"Transferring now."

An older woman’s voice cracks through the speaker.

"Donald J. Trump," she says. "You stupid fucking moron!"

"He…hello?" Trump stammers.

"Do you even know who this is?"

"Mother Nature?"

"No, you fucking dumbass!" she says. "It’s Kamala Harris."

"Kamala!" Trump says, sitting up. "What do you want?"

"I’m calling to concede the election," Kamala says. "And I won’t question the integrity of the votes, either. Something, I’m damn sure, you wouldn’t do if our roles were reversed."

Trump sits back and thinks about this for a moment.

"You know, Madame Vice President," Trump says. "You’re absolutely right. Thank you for calling."

Trump hangs up, sits back, closes his eyes, and goes into a deep sleep.

One year later, the National Anthem is replaced with the Apprentice theme song.