The Trumps – Meet the Trumps
The Trumps is a work of “fiction,” a “satire,” a “parody.” Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely “coincidental,” and this story is not meant to bear any political opinions.
An alarm went off next to the king-sized bed in the master bedroom in a huge house on Blue Jay Lane. A hand slammed onto the clock, silencing the alarm. Two chubby feet swung to the floor, and a robust, orange-tinted man in his white, skid-marked underwear lowered himself to the floor.
“Fuck my whole life,” Donald Trump muttered. He looked at the lump of blankets with the brown and blonde-streaked hair next to him. Melania was under them, pretending to still be asleep. She always pretended to sleep when Donald was awake in the bedroom.
Donald walked into the bathroom that adjoined his bedroom. The others may have already been awake. He took a piss and sidled to the sink once he was done. He looked in the mirror and rubbed the stubble on his chins. He took his toothbrush from the cup by the sink and added some toothpaste to it. He looked at it like an old foe and gave the white paste a quick lick. He shuddered and tossed it into the toilet.
Three thumps on the front door jarred Donald form his morning ablutions. “WILL SOMEONE ANSWER THE DAMN DOOR?!” he shouted. There was no response from anyone in the house. He sighed, flushing the toilet, watching his toothbrush swirl in the yellow water. “I guess have to do everything myself around here.”
Donald pulled on his robe and walked down the hall, passing Donny Jr and Eric’s room. He pushed the door open to find their bunk beds empty. He passed Barron’s room next, and he found his youngest son sitting on his floor, surrounded by Barbie dolls.
“Are you still playing with those damn dolls?” Donald asked.
“They calm me,” Barron replied, looking over his tiny, plastic harem. He had the same hair color as his mother, save the slutty blonde streaks. He didn’t even look at his father. Three more thumps came from the front door, and Donald left his twelve-year-old with a roll of his eyes.
He walked down the stairs to the first floor of his house, and he found his two middle-aged sons, the brunette Donny Jr and blonde Eric, sitting in front of the TV with huge bowls of cereal on their laps. “Didn’t you two hear the damn banging?!” Donald asked, standing between his sons and the TV.
“Our shows are on!” Donny Jr snapped.
“Yeah, Dad!” Eric added. “Get out of the way!”
“Fine!” Donald said, walking away, “but you better have left some Fruity Pebbles for me.”
Donny Jr and Eric both giggled. “Dad said ‘fruity,’ ” Donny Jr said, his giggles intensifying along with his brother.
Donald finally made his way to the door as the thumping commenced for a third time. He opened it and found his gray-haired, seventy-year-old neighbor, Robert Mueller, standing on the other side with two police officers. “Good morning,” Donald said. “What seems to be the trouble?”
“That’s him!” Mueller shouted, pointing a finger at Donald’s face. “He’s been running through my yard at night, wearing nothing but his underwear! Last night I caught him urinating into my rose bushes!”
“That’s absurd,” Donald said. “You’re such a dirty liar. Sad.”
“Sir,” one of the officers said. “Have you been running through this man’s yard in your underwear and urinating?”
“Wrong!” Donald exclaimed. “Why would I even do something like that?”
“He’s been sneaking over to Tracey Smith’s street while her husband is away on business!” Mueller said.
“These accusations are crazy,” Donald said, crossing his arms. “Did Crooked Hilary put you up to this? Is she still mad she lost the Neighborhood Association election to me?! This is a witch hunt! WITCH HUNT!”
“Calm down, sir,” the other officer said. “You’re not under arrest.”
“What?!” Mueller asked. “I saw him! I have proof! I have him on on tape!”
“Come back when you have a warrant,” Donald said, slamming the door. He sighed and turned back toward his home. Melania was up now, making her way toward the kitchen with Barron, and his older sons were guffawing at their cartoon. Donald smiled.
“I think it’s gonna be a good day. Huge.”
Created, Written, and Directed by Budgerigar Orville Bigelow
Season 1, Episode 1: Meet the Trumps
The door opened, and Ivanka, Donald’s daughter, and her husband came inside. She was blonde and had a tight body like her mother, and Donald always noted how much she was like his ex-wife, back when her body was as rocking as Ivanka’s was anyway. “Hi, Daddy,” she said. Her father, now in his suit and tie, greeted her, giving her a hug, smelling her hair.
“Hi, baby,” Donald said, reluctantly breaking the hug. He gave his lanky, dark-haired son-in-law a look over with a huff. “Hello, Jared.”
“Hello, Mister Trump,” Jared replied.
“Call me The Donald,” Donald replied.
“Do I have to?” Jared asked.
“Does Melania need help in the kitchen?” Ivanka asked.
“No,” Donald answered. “She’s got it under control.”
Melania sat at the small table in the kitchen, staring off as the oven cooked dinner. She had a smile on her face, but it faltered. She tried to keep her face from turning into a mask of depression, but she failed. She buried her head in her arms and sobbed.
“Let me get the boys,” Donald said. He walked over to the staircase. “Donny Jr! Eric! Your sister is here!”
The stampede of feet slamming on the floor upstairs heralded the coming of Donny Jr and Eric. “What’s for dinner?” Donny Jr asked.
“We’re having Lasagna,” Donald said. “Say hi to your sister!”
“Oh,” Eric said, rolling his eyes. “Dad’s favorite is here. Hi Ivanka.”
“Hi, Ivanka,” Donny Jr said. “Dad misses you soooooooooo much.”
“Shut up!” Donald said. “I’m gonna talk to your sister for a minute. Play with Jared.”
Donald walked away with Ivanka, his hand on her back. Donny Jr and Eric circled Jared, giggling and laughing. “What?” Jared said, spinning the opposite direction, trying to catch the gaze of the brothers. “What are you doing?”
“I need some help,” Donald said in a hushed tone to his daughter. “That nosey neighbor of mine thinks I’ve been sneaking through his yard to bang this broad on the other block.”
“Have you?” Ivanka asked, pushing her father’s arm off her back so she can look him in the face.
“No,” Donald said, shaking his head. “That’s all fake news. But he’s claiming he has me on tape, crossing his yard in my underwear and peeing on his flowers.”
“If it’s not you,” Ivanka said, “you have nothing to worry about. It really isn’t you, right?”
“I told you it’s not me,” Donald said, “but I need you to shut this guy up just in case.”
“But it’s not you on the tape in your underwear and peeing,” Ivanka said.
“Right,” Donald said, nodding, “but I need you and Jared to sneak over there and get it.”
“Why do we need the tape it if you’re not on it?” Ivanka asked.
“It’s a witch hunt!” Donald said. “They’re lying. I’ve never done what they say they have me on tape doing!”
“Fine,” Ivanka sighed. “I’ll go talk to Mister Mueller after dinner.”
“Thank you,” Donald said. He moved in for a kiss, but he was interrupted.
“Donald!” Melania called from the kitchen. “Can you help me with dinner?”
“OK!” Donald called back. He turned back toward Ivanka. “I’ll see you at the table. Sit next to me.”
Donald brought the casserole dish to the middle of the table and removed the top. “Dig in, everyone.”
Donny Jr looked at the food. “That’s meatloaf,” he said. “You told us we were having lasagna.”
“It is lasagna,” Donald said.
“It’s meatloaf!” Eric said, slamming his fists on the table. “I can see it!”
“It’s lasagna!” Donald said, taking both end pieces and slamming them on his place. “Looks delicious too.”
“Thank you,” Melania said. Her eyes were red, and she forced a smile. Donald sat down in front of his plate.
“Aren’t you going to have any vegetables?” Melania asked. Donald just glared at her until she looked away.
“Jared got another promotion this week,” Ivanka said, breaking the awkward silence.
“I know,” Donald said. “I was the one who gave it to him.
“Nepotism is alive and well,” Barron said, poking at the food on his plate.
“Thank you,” Jared said, smiling at this young brother-in-law. “I promise to make you proud.”
“I didn’t promote you,” Barron said. “If it were up to me, you’d report to the janitor.”
“What was that?” Donald asked.
“Nothing,” Barron said, going back the poking of the food on his plate.
“Me and Eric found a bullfrog today,” Donny Jr said.
“Eric and I,” Ivanka corrected.
“No,” Eric said, shaking his head. “It was me and Donny. You weren’t even there.”
“This lasagna is great!” Donald said, taking another slice, putting it on his plate, and squirting a liberal amount of ketchup onto the top of it, eliciting a fart sound from the bottle as it emptied. Donny Jr and Eric giggled, looking at each other.
Dinner ended, and the plates were all cleared. Donald sat on the couch next to Ivanka. “You gonna do it?” he asked. “You gonna go see if Mueller has that tape?”
“Yes!” Ivanka said. “You don’t have to keep asking me.”
“Get going already then,” Donald said. “I don’t have all night!”
“Fine,” Ivanka said, getting up. “Come on, Jared.”
“We’re leaving already?” Jared asked. He was sitting on the floor with Donny Jr and Eric, playing Uno. He dropped the cards, and Eric snatched them up.
“I get his cards!” Eric said.
“Go ahead and keep ‘em!” Donny Jr replied. “You want less cards in Uno, you dumbass!”
Eric looked at the cards he held and at his brother, who only had three left. “Dammit!”
“We’re not leaving,” Ivanka told Jared. “We need to talk to my dad’s neighbor and smooth over a little feud they’ve been having.”
“OK,” Jared said. “Where’s the house?”
“It’s my dad’s neighbor,” Ivanka replied.
Jared looked at her for a moment. “So is it close?”
Ivanka stared at her husband.
“It’s not far,” Donald said. “It’s the house right next to mine.”
“Oh,” Jared said, walking toward the door. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“Yeah,” Donald said. “Why make things more complicated than they have to be?”
“Wait,” Donald said. He went to his entertainment center and took an old VHS tape from the cabinet under it. “Switch the tape out with this one. This is something Donny and Eric taped.”
“I thought there wasn’t a tape,” Ivanka said.
Donald looked at he for a moment, then turned to Jared and handed the tape to him. “On second thought,” he said, “you better handle this, Jared.”
“Thanks, boss,” Jared said, putting the tape into his jacket. “You won’t regret it.”
“Why do you always say that?” Donald asked.
Melania sat at the kitchen table, letting the dishwasher run. She looked content for a moment, having provided her family a decent meal. But it didn’t last long. She buried her head in her arms and sobbed.
Ivanka knocked on the door of Robert Mueller’s house and waited. “What did this guy do to your father?” Jared asked.
“Dad thinks there’s some kind of pee tape,” Ivanka said, “and Mueller is going to use it against him.”
The door opened, and Mueller stood on the other side. “Yes?” he asked.
“Hi, Mister Mueller,” Ivanka said, smiling. “My father wanted me to talk to you about what’s been going on lately.”
Mueller nodded. “I think you should be talking to him,” he said. “He’s the one running through my yard and urinating on my flowers.”
“Can we come in?” Ivanka asked.
Mueller thought about it for a moment, but his polite tendencies took over. “Sure,” he said. “Can I get you anything?”
“Do you have any Yoo-Hoo?” Jared asked, walking into Mueller’s home with Ivanka.
“Yoo-Hoo?” Mueller asked in return. “That chocolate milk drink?”
“Yeah,” Jared replied. “You got any?”
“I have water or iced tea,” Mueller said.
“I guess I’ll wait till I get home,” Jared sighed.
“I’ll have an iced tea,” Ivanka said.
“OK,” Mueller said. “I’ll go get that for you.” He left for the kitchen, leaving Jared and Ivanka alone in his den.
“Tell him you need to use the bathroom,” Ivanka whispered. “Then you need to look for the tape.”
“OK,” Jared said. “What if I really need to use the bathroom, though?”
“Then use it first,” Ivanka replied, “then look for the tape.”
“OK,” Jared said.
Mueller came back in with the glass of iced tea, handing it to Ivanka. “There you are,” he said. “Now what did you want to talk to me -”
“I need to use the bathroom!” Jared blurted.
“Sure,” Mueller said. “It’s right up the stairs.”
“Thanks,” Jared said, running up the stairs. Mueller watched him.
“Sorry,” Ivanka said. “He has IBS.”
“What did you need to talk to me about?” Mueller said. “If it’s about your father, my mind is made up. I’m going to the police. I’ve had enough of his antics, and it’s about time they stop.”
“He’s really harmless,” Ivanka said with a warm smile. “Let me tell you a story from when I was younger.”
Donald sat on his couch, watching Fox News, scowling and nodding at the anchor’s verbal attack on the snowflakes who didn’t even watch their programming. Melania came into the room, fresh from her latest cry-fest. “Where are Ivanka and Jared?” she asked.
“They stepped out,” Donald replied, not taking his focus off the TV.
“Where did they go?” Melania asked.
“They went to talk some sense into that slime-ball neighbor of ours,” Donald replied. “They’re going to make sure that god awful tape doesn’t do any damage.”
“What tape?” Melania asked. “The pee tape Mueller has?”
“There is no pee tape!” Donald said.
“Then why are you getting so upset with Mueller if he has no tape?” Melania asked.
“There’s no tape!” Donald shouted. “Mueller is a liar!”
“Then why are you going so crazy over it?” Melania asked.
“I need to take a shit,” Donald said, walking away from him wife, taking his phone from his pocket to tweet.
“…then he walked in on my friends during a slumber party,” Ivanka said, nearing the end of her story. “I’ve never known a father to be so doting toward his daughter.”
“Look,” Mueller said, “it’s not that I have a personal vendetta against your family. I just don’t think your father should be getting away with the stuff he’s getting away with. That’s all there is to it, really.”
“My father comes off as abrasive,” Ivanka replied, “but he’s not as bad as people make him out to be.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” Mueller said, looking away.
Meanwhile, Jared was upstairs, looking through Mueller’s nightstand for the alleged tape of Donald urinating in his yard. He was about to give up his search when he spotted it, sitting on top of a dresser across the room. There was a white label on the front that said: “Donald Trump Urinating in my Yard.” Jared carefully peeled off the label, put it on the tape he had hidden under his jacket, and successfully switched them out. “Wait ‘til Ivanka finds out who’s not so inadequate in the bedroom now,” he whispered to himself as he turned and walked back toward the stairs.
“…Hillary would have never won the presidency of the Neighborhood Association in any case,” Ivanka was saying to Mueller. “She tried to win through nefarious means, and it’s fitting that she lost to my father.”
“Still,” Mueller said, “Donald’s done nothing but damage since he became president. Just because you say Hillary was the wrong choice doesn’t make your father the right one.”
“I’m all done pooping!” Jared announced coming down the stairs. “We can go now.”
“You just came here to use my toilet?” Mueller asked, turning toward Jared.
“Uh…” Jared replied. “Yes?”
“It’s OK,” Ivanka said. “We should get going anyway. Please take what I’ve said into consideration.”
“This isn’t a matter of opinion,” Mueller said. “What your father did was wrong, and he should be punished for his actions.”
“Hopefully the two of you can see eye to eye someday,” Ivanka said.
“Goodnight then,” Mueller said, leading Ivanka and Jared to the door. “You’re a good kid and a loyal daughter. I’m sorry, but your father has to be dealt with.”
“We’ll see about all that,” Ivanka said. “You have a good night, Mister Mueller.”
Ivanka and Jared walked back into Donald’s house, and the whole family was in the den. “I got it!” Jared said, pulling the tape from his jacket and waving it over his head. “I got the tape.”
“There really was a tape?” Melania asked.
“Gimme that!” Donald snapped, snatching the tape from Jared’s hands. He dropped it on the ground and stomped on it, turning into to bits of broken plastic and film. When he was done, he kicked what was left across the room. “There. It’s done.”
“Were you really peeing on that tape?” Jared asked.
“No,” Donald said, “and there’s no evidence that says otherwise!”
“Oh, daddy,” Ivanka said, laughing. Soon, the whole family laughed along with them. Donald went to his daughter and gave her a big kiss for helping him out.
The next morning, there was a knock on Donald’s door, and he came downstairs wearing his robe. “What do you want so damn early?!” he exclaimed, opening the door.
“Sorry to bother you, Mister Trump,” a police officers at the door said. “We got another call from your neighbor.”
“I have the tape this time!” Mueller said, holding up a tape that had a white “Donald Trump Urinating in my Yard” label on the front. “You told me I didn’t have evidence! Well, here it is!”
“Look,” the officer said to Donald. “You don’t have to do this here. We’ll give you time to get dressed and -”
“No,” Donald said, shaking his head. “Come in and put the tape on. Let’s put this puppy to sleep once and for all.”
Melania came downstairs with Barron, followed by Donny Jr and Eric, as Donald took the tape from Mueller and put it into his VCR. He smirked at his guests as he pressed play. “Ready to be proven wrong?” he asked as the video started.
“I won’t be,” Mueller said. “By God, Trump, you’re going down for what you’ve done!”
The video started, and nobody saw Donald Trump in his underwear, urinating. What they saw were two masked Mexican wrestlers grappling in a match. “Hey!” Eric shouted. “That’s El Ding-Dong and Rosa Santana!”
“This match is for the Guacamole Belt!” Donny Jr added. “We haven’t even watched this yet!”
“What’s this?” Mueller asked. “What happened to my tape?!”
“We didn’t know you were a fan!” Eric exclaimed. “Do you want to join our backyard wrestling league?”
“What’s the meaning of this!?” Mueller shouted.
The police officer sighed. “I’m sorry about this, Mister Trump,” he said. The turned to Mueller. “Our time is very important. Please stop wasting it.”
“But…” Mueller stammered. “The tape…”
“It’s alright, officer,” Donald said. “I’ve always been a supporter of our boys in blue, you know.”
The officer nodded once more and left into the early morning sunlight. Mueller watched him go, then turned back to Donald. “I don’t know how this happened,” he said, “but this isn’t over. You’ll slip up at some point, and I’ll not only have you off the neighborhood association but in jail as well! I’ll have your whole family locked up!”
“Wrong!” Donald said. “My family and I aren’t going anywhere.”
Mueller waited a moment longer, seething in his anger. He turned to leave when something struck his eye. He bent over and picked something up that was under the couch. It was a piece of a video cassette, and there was still a piece of film stuck to it. He looked from it to Donald and back again, realization written all over his face. “DONAAALLLLD!”