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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Political · #2203056
It's as good an explanation as any
The Devil and Donald Trump

As a young man struggling to escape his father’s shadow, Donald realized that he had little to offer the world. Lacking intelligence, charm, or talent he knew that his success must lie in another direction. It was the summer of Star Wars and everyone was talking about the ‘force’. Impressed by the ruthless power of Darth Vader, and desperate for some way to succeed without actually doing any hard work, Donald decided to go to the dark side.

The Trump family had employed an undocumented Jamaican housekeeper when Donald was just a lad. She’d told the children eerie tales of voodoo magic and Donald remembered her strict warnings against consorting with ‘Mr. Scratch’. But, as usual, he ignored good advice and had an assistant do some research for him to learn how such deals went down. Armed with very little knowledge, but certain that he was smarter than Robert Johnson, Donald soon convinced himself that he would win the negotiation.

So he located a deserted crossroads deep in the pine barrens of New Jersey, waited for a moonless night, and invoked Satan’s name just at the stroke of twelve. Such was Donald’s ego that he barely blinked at the ominous, glowing apparition that promptly arrived in a billow of sulfurous smoke. Of course the guy would come when The Donald called!

“What boon do you wish and what will you give for its sake?”

The sonorous voice seemed to come from everywhere except from the cloaked and hooded figure in front of him. A combination of Chinese gong, bass drum, and fingernails on a blackboard, it even seemed to come from within Donald himself.

Squinting into the darkness, Donald tried to make out the figure’s shape but got only an impression of hooves, horns, and curiously antique formal attire. A bit of reddish light reflected off a prominent hooked nose, and the sharp tips of a forked beard showed at the bottom of the hood, but most of the face remained in shadow.

“I want a special talent,” Donald croaked with the taste of sulfur caught in his throat.

“And I’m here to make a deal,” he continued in a stronger tone. “It’ll be the biggest and most beautiful deal you ever saw. I’m even willing to put my soul on the table.”

“Your soul is of little value and my powers are not limitless. If your request does not serve my interests, then we have nothing further to discuss. What talent do you seek?”

“I want to be able to lie without consequences!”

There was a considering silence for a few seconds followed by a chuckle that seemed to suck all the warmth out of the already chill night.

“Yes, this could be an amusing gamble. The potential for earthly harm is great. You shall have your talent and I shall have my price. But first, I am compelled to warn you that loss of your soul comes with certain side effects and that you must agree to accept them to complete our transaction.”

“You mean I’ll wind up going to Hell when I die?”

“Oh, most certainly, but that was already a likely outcome. What you must accept is that I will take your soul this very night. You’ll still be able to live a normal life span, but you’ll suffer a total lack of empathy, an inability to feel compassion, and you will be unable to truly love.”

“But I’ll still be able to get it up, right? And the flunkies will still do what I tell them?”

“Yes, your physical being will be unaffected, apart from a tinge of jack-o-lantern in your complexion to mark you as mine. You’ll still enjoy all of your deadly sins – sloth, greed, anger, gluttony, pride. You’ll be able to lust, to inspire fear, and perhaps even earn the respect of your flunkies.”

Donald missed the mocking tone of the word ‘perhaps’.

“Fear and respect! I like the sound of that. Let’s get ‘er done!”

“As you wish.”

The Devil faded as he made a formal bow, his head disappearing first as it approached the ground. His hooves disappeared last, leaving a disturbing impression that he had somehow flowed into the solid earth without actually moving.

“That’s it? No magic words? No fireworks? Not much of a show. And I don’t feel any different anyway – I’m still the same great guy I’ve always been. I don’t think you did anything at all. What a loser! I don’t need you, I can be a big success all by myself. And I’m not paying your price, either!” exclaimed The Donald with an orange smirk.

There was an almost imperceptible echo from that unmistakable voice.

“An excellent beginning, sir.”
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