The Trumps – Nepotism: America’s Favorite Pastime


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.



Donald sat in his big chair in front of other members of the Neighborhood Association; the very association he had been elected president of over a year before. “So, are we agreed?” he asked his panel. “Raise your hands if you agree.”

The members of the panel raised their hands, and Mike Pence, Donald’s vice president, counted the votes. “Motion carries,” he said. “Our neighborhood will have its own little league team in the town’s league.”

“The Blue Jays,” Donald said, smiling smugly. “We’re going to make little league great again.”

“This town’s little league program is already great,” one of the association members said. “We just have another team.”

“You’re fired,” Donald said. “Who’s heading out to pick up some White Castle?”

The Trumps
Created, Written, and Directed by Budgerigar Orville Bigelow

Season 1, Episode 7: Nepotism: America’s Favorite Pastime

Donny Jr sat on the couch in the living room, making out with his new girlfriend, a sexy blonde woman. Eric sat on the staircase, unseen by the couple, watching them suck face. After another minute, Donny Jr caught his brother from the corner of his eye. He broke off the suction-like grip his mouth had on his girlfriend and turned toward Eric. “What the fuck, bro!” he said.

“I was just watching!” Eric argued. “There’s no crime in that!”

“Come on, Vanessa,” Donny Jr said, pulling his girlfriend off the couch by her elbow. “We can go make out at the park.”

“Cool,” Vanessa said. “Can we get some ice cream too?”

“If there’s time,” Donny Jr replied. “Come on.”

“Dammit,” Eric muttered. “Another minute and I would have finished.”

“What are you talking about?” Barron asked, walking behind Eric on the stairs. “Finished with what?”

“Finished tossing you off the fuckin’ roof!” Eric said. “God!”

“Where’s Donny Jr?” Barron asked. “You two are rarely apart. I even see you two going to the bathroom together.”

“He’s with Vanessa,” Eric replied. “He’s always with Vanessa now.”

Barron gave a snort of a laugh and walked past Eric. “Looks like you’re going to have to get your own thing now that he has his,” he said. “Good luck with that.”

Eric stayed there, watching his young half-brother, failing to come up with any kind of retort. Eventually, his father Donald came in with Ivanka. “The new team will be called the Blue Jays,” Donald was telling Ivanka. “We’re going to have the best team in the town’s league. Nobody is going to beat us! We have the best kids in our neighborhood.”

“Dad,” Eric said, coming down the stairs. “I want to be part of it too.”

Donald looked over his son. “Do you even know anything about baseball?” he asked.

“Of course I do,” Eric replied. “I used to play, remember?”

“OK,” Donald said. “Get the information from my secretary. I gotta take a shit.”

“Good for you,” Ivanka said, smiling at her brother. “I’m always saying how you and Donny Jr should take more initiative with Dad’s projects.”

“OK,” Eric said. “This will show Vanessa.”

“Who’s Vanessa?” Ivanka asked.

“This will show her,” Eric said, backing away. “This will show her real good.”


The Blue Jays had their first practice a week later, and the young boys from the neighborhood all came to play. Practice had barely started when Eric showed up. He approached the head coach of the team; a middle-aged man with a beard named Skippy. “Hey, coach,” Eric said. “Sorry I’m late.”

“And who are you?” Coach Skippy asked.

“I’m Eric Trump,” Eric replied proudly. “My Dad should have told you I was coming by.”

“Oh yeah,” Coach Skippy said. “Your Donald’s boy, here to help me coach the kids.”

“Oh, I’m not here to coach,” Eric said. “I’m here to kick ass.”

Coach Skippy looked over Eric. “You’re here to kick ass?”

“Oh yeah,” Eric replied. “Can I play short stop?”


Ivanka was in Donald’s home office, going over some printed-up charts from the last quarter. “Our ratings have dropped significantly,” she said, “but they’re projected to rise again in the -”

Donald’s phone buzzed on his desk, and he swiped it open. “You got The Donald,” he said, putting it on speakerphone.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Trump,” the voice on the other end said. “It’s Skippy.”

“Skippy!” Donald exclaimed. “How’s the team looking? Can I count on a shiny, new trophy for my case from our team?”

“Your son, Eric, is here,” Skippy said. “He wants to join the team.”

“We talked about this, Skippy,” Donald said. “He’s on your coaching staff.”

“That’s just the thing,” Skippy said. “He’s claiming he wants to play ball with the kids and join the team.”

Donald was silent for a moment, thinking. “Then let him,” Donald said. “I don’t see what the problem is here.”

“He’s in his thirties for God’s sake,” Skippy said. “This is a team for children. He’s way too old. The league’s bylaws state that -”

“Do I need to find a new head coach?” Donald interrupted.

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Are you still there, Skippy?” Donald asked.

“I’m here,” Skippy replied.

“Then answer my question,” Donald said. “Do I need to find a new head coach?”

“No,” Skippy finally answered.

“Then make this work,” Donald ordered. “Otherwise, I’ll have you shining my shoes for sweatshop wages. Am I clear?”

“Yes,” Skippy replied. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Donald ended the call. “There,” he said, looking at Ivanka and smiling. “Another problem solved.”

“Does your head coach also work for you?” Ivanka asked.

“Of course, sweetie,” Donald said.

“Is it such a good idea to let Eric play baseball against kids?” Ivanka asked. “Doesn’t seem right or fair.”

“What do I know about baseball?” Donald asked. “If it keeps Eric out of my hair for five minutes, then what do I care what a bunch of kids and Skippy think about it?”

Ivanka looked at her father for a moment and decided to give up on trying to talk any semblance of sense into him. “OK,” she said. “So, about these projections.”

“It’ll be fine,” Donald said. “Want to head over to Olive Garden for a couple hundred breadsticks and Italian food?”


The first match of the season came quickly, and the Blue Jays were ready to play their opening game. They were almost ready anyway. “Shit,” Coach Skippy said to his assistant coach. “I was hoping this asshole wouldn’t show up.”

Eric came strolling toward his coach, wearing a uniform that was way too tight for him. “Good morning,” he said, smiling. “I’m ready to kick the shit out of some kids!”

“What the hell is that in your pants?!” Coach Skippy exclaimed.

“That?” Eric said, looking down at his crotch and the bulge that extended halfway to his knee. “I wanted to impress any ladies who come to the game, so I shoved a pepperoni in there. It looks real, right?”

“I can’t let you go out to the field like that,” Coach Skippy said.

“Don’t worry about it falling out,” Eric said. “I glued it to my leg.”

“Let’s this game going already!” Donny Jr exclaimed, running up to his brother. Vanessa was with him. “I’m not gonna wait around all day!”

“What are you doing here?” Eric asked.

“I’m here to watch your game, dumb-ass,” Donny Jr said. “I mean, I may glance at it when I’m not making out with Vanessa in the stands.”

Eric was speechless. He took a bag of sunflower seeds from his pocket and started putting them into his mouth.

“OK then,” Donny Jr said. “Get out there and handle your balls.”

“Why’s he like that?” Vanessa asked as Donny Jr led her away.

“He was born with the umbilical cord up his ass,” Donny Jr replied.

“Really?” Vanessa asked.

“I’ll show ‘em,” Eric said, through a mouth of unshelled sunflower seeds. “I’ll show ‘em both.”


Eric left the game moments later, riding on a stretcher. “What a dweeb,” Donny Jr said, shaking his head. “He’s always dumping those damn seeds into his mouth, shells and all.”

“That’s your brother,” Vanessa said. “Aren’t you concerned?”

“Not really,” Donny Jr said with a shrug. “He jerks off with shopping bag over his head all the time. He’s no noob when it comes to having his oxygen cut off.”

Donald and Ivanka came to the field. “Did they start yet?” Ivanka asked Donny Jr.

“It’s actually all over,” Donny Jr said, chuckling.

“Looks like they’re just starting,” Donald said. “Where’s that idiot brother of yours?”

“He was carted away after choking on some sunflower seeds,” Donny Jr replied. “It was hilarious.”

Donald huffed, turning away from his son. “After throwing a fit to get on the team,” he said, shaking his head. “Sad.”

“Hey,” Donny Jr said, putting his arm around Vanessa’s shoulders. “I know Eric let you down, but you can be proud of me with this pull, right?”

Donald looked Vanessa up and down, nodding when he was done. “Nice,” he said as Vanessa looked away from her leering. “She’s no Ivanka, though.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Ivanka said, giggling.


Eric came home, still wearing his baseball uniform. Barron was sitting on the couch, watching TV. “Good game?” Barron asked.

“Not really,” Eric replied, sitting on the couch next to his half-brother. “I got hauled off after choking on some sunflower seeds.”

“Sounds about right,” Barron remarked.

“The worst part,” Eric continued, “is that Donny was there with her; Vanessa.”

“You’re still going on about that girlfriend of his then?” Barron asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eric asked.

“Nothing you’d understand,” Barron said. “Did you get kicked off the team?”

“No,” Eric said.

“There will be more games then,” Barron said, shrugging. “Just make sure you don’t choke yourself next time.”

“Right,” Eric said. “It would be nice to actually play a game and show everyone what I’m worth. Thanks, little bro. You’re wise beyond your years.”

“Do you even know what that means?” Barron asked.

“No,” Eric replied, “but it sure did sound fancy as shit.”


“Any new items of business?” Donald said, ready to adjourn the Neighborhood Association meeting after just ten minutes of shooting down everyone else’s ideas.

“Just one,” Gene Carlisle, a member of the board leftover from the last administration, stood and replied. “Can we talk about the addition of your son to our baseball team?”

“No,” Donald said. “He’s a good kid and earned his spot on the team.”

“He’s at least twenty-five years too old to be playing,” Gene said. “I know you wanted to be part of the town’s league, but did you even read the bylaws when you got your team?”

“No,” Donald replied. “I get baseball. It’s fine.”

“It is not fine!” Gene shouted. “It’s not fair for the other boys to have to play against a team with an adult shortstop, assuming he gets to play a game without going to the hospital first.”

Donald’s eyes turned to slits as he measured Gene. “I think a resignation is in order,” he said.

“Are you going resign then?” Gene asked.

“No,” Donald replied. “You are.”

“I’d like to see you try and make me,” Gene said.

Donald smiled.


“Did you hear?” Donald told Ivanka, sitting in the stands of the baseball field. “Gene Carlisle resigned in disgrace this morning.”

“That’s awful,” Ivanka said. “Wasn’t he on the Association’s board for twenty-something years?”

“Who knows,” Donald said. “He couldn’t take the heat.”

“Another one gone,” Ivanka mused. “How many have come and gone now?”

“Who’s counting?” Donald asked, shrugging. “Look, here comes Eric.”

Eric walked toward the field with a wooden bat resting on his shoulder. He scratched his balls as he passed the stands. He saw his father and sister and nodded to them as he sauntered into the dugout.

“Did I miss him fucking something up yet?” Donny Jr asked, sitting next to his sister in the stands.

“Not yet,” Ivanka replied. “Why are you alone? No Vanessa today?”

The smile on Donny Jr’s face died, replaced with anguish. “She’s gone,” he said. “That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

“I’m sorry, Donny,” Ivanka said, putting a sympathetic hand on her brother’s leg.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Donny Jr said.

“OK,” Ivanka said, knowing it was best to let him begin to heal on his own before opening up about it.

“Got dumped hard, huh?” Donald said. “What a pity. She had a nice pair on her. I bet she cleaned everywhere when she showered too… everywhere.” The people around them all turned to look for a moment. Donald seemed not to notice.

Donny Jr put his face in his hands. “She did!” he wailed. “She was so good at showering!”


“This is a huge game for us,” Eric said, pacing the Blue Jays’ dugout. “If we win, there will be parties, booze, and bitches. If we lose, there will be at least one suicide.”

“Dude,” one of the kids said. “Nobody likes you.”

“Yeah,” another said. “You’re only here because your father threatened to fire the coach if he didn’t put you on the team.”

“And I’m going to take this team to the championship!” Eric exclaimed. “How many of the other teams have an adult playing for them?”

“You’re an adult?” someone asked. “I bet you never even passed third grade.”

“The other teams don’t have a grownup playing,” the first kid said. “That’s why we’re a fuckin’ joke. We don’t want you here. We actually hoped you’d die when you choked at the last game.”

Eric looked at the kids, nodding and staring daggers at him. “A bigger man would be offended by that,” he said. “Unfortunately for you, I’m pretty big.”

“What?” a few of the kids said. They looked at each other in confusion.

“I’m talking about my dick!” Eric exclaimed. “Fuck it. I’m playing, and you have to deal with it. I’m a Trump, you little shits. Do something.”

The kids all looked at each other, sharing a moment of silent communication. Eric watched, confused as to what was happening in front of his face. “What the hell are you little dildos doing?” he asked.

“Get him,” one of the kids said. A moment later, they were up, dragging Eric to the ground and beating him. He was punched, kicked, and stomped as he screamed for help. Coach Skippy seemed not to hear as he stood outside the dugout.

“Come on!” Eric shouted. “How are we going to play if I’m injured!”


“I’ll fire Skippy, I’ll fire those kids, and I’ll fire everyone!” Donald shouted into his cellphone, standing next to Eric’s hospital bed. “Nobody makes a fool out of Donald Trump! Nobody!”

“I’m glad to see Dad cares so much,” Eric said.

“He cares,” Ivanka reassured, putting her hand on Eric’s forearm. “He doesn’t show it, but he cares.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t show it?” Eric asked. “He’s showing it right now.”

Ivanka sighed, shaking her head.

“What?” Eric asked.

“I need to get out of here,” Donald said, leaving with his phone still pressed to his ear. “Hospitals give me the fuckin’ creeps.”

“Good ol’ Dad,” Eric said, smiling.

Donny Jr came in next, holding a foil balloon with Stone Cold Steve Austin’s picture on it. “Hey, bro,” he said. “How are you holding up?”

Eric’s smile died, and he looked out the window.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Ivanka said, grabbing her purse from the chair, giving Eric a quick peck on the forehead, and leaving the room. She walked off, going in the same direction her father had.

“What’s your problem?” Donny Jr asked as soon as she was gone.

“I’m in the hospital,” Eric replied.

“I know that, numb-nuts,” Donny Jr said. “What’s your beef with me? I didn’t come all the way down here to eat your shit, you know. If I wanted to eat shit, I would have stayed home and fished some shit out of the toilet!”

Melania and Barron, who had just come in, backed back out without making a sound.

“You don’t get it,” Eric said. “You have everything I don’t.”

“What are you talking about?” Donny Jr asked.

Eric let out a long breath. “You’re older, get Dad’s name, and the top bunk. You’re the smart one and the better looking one.”

“Sure,” Donny Jr said, shrugging, “but I’m still not Ivanka.”

Eric looked at Donny Jr and started laughing. “That’s true,” he chuckled. “I’d fuck her over you any day.”

“Me too,” Donny Jr said, chuckling as well. He and Eric laughed together until it eventually died down. “What’s really bugging you?”

“I don’t know,” Eric said. “Maybe I didn’t want you spending all your time with Vanessa instead of me, though she is a grade A piece of ass.”

“She was,” Donny Jr sighed. “But she’s gone now.”

“Really?” Eric asked.

“We broke up,” Donny Jr said. “It was mutual. I totally dumped her ass, mutually.”

Eric looked at his brother, and the pair broke out into another fit of chuckles. “I’m sorry I acted like a little bitch,” Eric said once it died down again.

“It’s OK,” Donny Jr said. “Just remember that pussy wears out, but the bond between brothers never will.”

“That’s deep,” Eric said.

“There’s only one thing to do now,” Donny Jr said.

“What’s that?” Eric asked.

Donny Jr replied with a wide smile.


“So, we’re agreed,” Donald said, sitting in the president’s seat on the neighborhood association. “Effective immediately, the Blue Jays will be disbanded.”

“None of the kids want to play,” Skippy said. “They’ve been scared to death ever since the two men in wrestling masks beat them all half to death.”

Mike Pence nearly choked on his water, but Donald kept his composure. “Regardless,” he said, “the team is no more. Any new business?”

“Yes,” someone said, standing. “I want to get a few able-bodied men to go out and find the two responsible for beating up our kids.”

“We won’t be doing that,” Donald said. “It’s not in our budget.”

“We don’t need money,” the man said. “We just need to-”

“Motion denied!” Donald said, slamming his fist on the table. “Is there anything else, or can we go?”

The End

***Edited by Katherine J Marshall***


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