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Jesus pays Trump a little visit

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As we head into Christmas week, I can’t help but wonder what Jesus Christ might tell Donald J. Trump, in the unlikely event they were to meet.

[SCENE: Middle of the night. Trump is sitting in his underwear in his Mar-a-Lago bedroom, tweeting. Suddenly, a blast of white light! There, two feet away, is…]

Trump: What the fuck? Who the hell are you? [pounds button for Secret Service]

Jesus: Don’t bother. It won’t work. Besides, they couldn’t see me anyway. Only you can.

Trump: Is it really you–?

Jesus: No, it’s Willem Dafoe, schmuck. Of course it’s me.

Trump: I’ll be damned! Franklin Graham told me you loved me, but I never expected a personal visit!

Jesus: Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not here because I love you.

Trump: You’re not?

Jesus: Hell, no. I hate you.

Trump: Whaaa…?

Jesus: Loathe you. Despise you. I’d really like to kick your fat white ass, except that I’m non-violent.

Trump: I thought you loved everybody!

Jesus: Myth. I love good people. But you? You’re a POS, Donald. You’re the worst person I’ve met since Pontius Pilate, and I’ve known some pretty horrible people: Hitler, Pol Pot, Jim Jones, Harvey Weinstein…

Trump: But my people love me! The base…the evangelicals…

Jesus: They’re all assholes. Trust me, my Father is preparing a special place for them, and it ain’t in Heaven.

Trump: And me–?

Jesus: I don’t know yet. That’s why my Father sent me here, to give you one last chance.

Trump: A deal! Great! I’m a great dealmaker. Nobody negotiates like me—just ask Kim Jong-Un.

Jesus: So here are our terms. You go on national T.V., apologize for being a schmuck, resign your office immediately, and then spend the rest of your life serving the poor—celibate.

Trump: Celibate?

Jesus: That’s right. No sex. Nada. Zilch. Bupkes.

Trump: You have got to be kidding.

Jesus: Do I look like I’m kidding?

Trump: But look, Mr., err, Christ—

Jesus: Call me Jesus.

Trump: Jesus. I can’t live without beautiful women. Love ‘em to pieces! Love to grope their pussies! Y’know, they let me, because I’m famous.

Jesus: Then you’re going to the H-place.

Trump: Can I have an air-conditioned suite?

Jesus: Nope. In fact, I’m putting you in the Oven Room, where the temperature is the same as the interior of the Sun.

Trump: Umm, so what if I promise to be celibate?

Jesus: That’s a start. You have to apologize to the American people and the world. You have to say, “I’ve been a schmuck, a pig, a thug, a liar, a bully, a sexual predator, a con man. I’ve taken advantage of the simpletons who voted for me.” And then you have to resign the presidency.

Trump: So Pence would get the job?

Jesus: Yup.

Trump: But he’s…

Jesus: Yes. A moron. I know. We’ll deal with him later. Right now, you’re the problem.

Trump: And then you say I have to serve the poor?

Jesus: Yup.

Trump: But I hate poor people! They’re so dumb, and smelly, and ugly.

Jesus: All the more reason to humble yourself before them.

Trump: I gotta think about this. Can you give me until tomorrow?

Jesus: No. You have to decide now.

Trump: I need to talk to Melania first. And Ivanka. And Don, Jr. and Jared.

Jesus: Don’t bother. They’re already in Hell.

Trump: What?!?!?

Jesus: Yup. I sent them there right before I came here.

Trump: My family is in Hell?!?!?

Jesus: Don’t worry. I got them a nice condo, in a cooler part of the Inferno.

Trump: Jesus Christ!

Jesus: Yes?

Trump: [Drumming his fingers on the table] Tell you what, let me make you an offer. I’ll do the apology thing. I’ll do the poor thing. I’ll quit the presidency. But celibacy? No way! You gotta promise me I’ll have all the porn stars I want.

Jesus: No go.

Trump: I thought you said this was a negotiation!

Jesus: No. That’s what you said. I’m giving you my Father’s terms: Our way, or straight to Hell. And trust me, there are no porn stars in Hell.

Trump: Where do they go?

Jesus: The nice ones go to Heaven. The other ones go to Purgatory.

Trump: This sucks.

Jesus: Yes, basically, it does.

Trump: Look, let me stay. I have a plan. I’m remaking the Courts in my name. I’m destroying the Democrat Party. I have the cops, the military and the gun owners on my side. This time next year, I’ll be Dictator-For-Life. And I promise I’ll make you the Chief Deity! We’ll put your face on the stamps! Everybody will worship you, and if they don’t, I’ll send them to concentration camps! Doesn’t that sound like fun?

Jesus: You’re bargaining, Donald.

Trump: You’ll be Jesus of America! Second only to me. Think of the power, the glory! And with my nukes, we could take over the world, kill all the Muslims and Jews, make the whole fucking planet worship you! You and only you, Jesus! Doesn’t that sound fantastic?

Jesus: You’re wasting your time, kid. You have five seconds to make up your mind, or…

[The clock is ticking. Trump is sweating. Outside his Mar-a-Lago window, a seagull caws a loud, lonely cry into the night.]

Jesus: Five. Four. Three. Two—

Trump: All right! I accept your terms! But tell me this: I assume it’s okay for me to bring my laptop to Hell, and that I’ll still be able to have Internet access, including porn.

Jesus: –One!

[A gigantic burst of white light. Suddenly the Mar-a-Lago bedroom is empty. No more Trump, just Jesus sitting there, a smile on his face. Cut to Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing “America the Beautiful”]

  1. Ben Papapietro says:

    If only

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