The Trumps – Melania is Missing


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 blinked, opening his eyes, staring at the ceiling in the hospital room. “What happened?” he asked.

“You had a mild cardiac episode,” Ivanka said.

“It wasn’t a heart attack,” Donald replied.

“I didn’t say it was,” Ivanka said.

“I just want that on the record,” Donald said. “I don’t want the fake news getting ahold of the story and telling everyone and their mothers that I suffered a heart attack. Where’s Melania? Did she come too?”

Ivanka sighed. “There’s something else you need to know,” she said. “Something happened to Melania soon after you were admitted to the hospital.”

“What?” Donald asked.

“You have to promise not to get mad,” Ivanka said. “The doctors said you have to be careful with your stress levels.”

“Just tell me!” Donald snapped.

“They took her away,” Ivanka said, tears sparkling in her eyes. “She was deported.”

“Deported?” Donald asked. “How is that possible?”

“The County Neighborhood News reported that she was a mail order bride,” Ivanka said. “In a matter of hours, she was gone. All that was left of her was a note saying she was taken back to her home country.”

Donald turned and looked at the ceiling. “Hell,” he sighed. “I’m never going to hear the end of this from Vlad.”

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

Season 1, Episode 9: Melania is Missing


“My enemies are surrounding me,” Donald said, addressing his family in his living room. “They’re hiding everywhere. They’re saying Vlad and I colluded to win the Neighborhood Association elections, but we all know that’s just fake news. They want me to resign, but I refuse!”

“What’s this have to do with getting mom back?” Barron asked.

“Crooked Hillary was the one who got her exported,” Donald said.

“Do you mean deported?” Barron asked.

“That’s what I said,” Donald replied. “Anyway, it’s all Crooked Hillary’s fault. I have it on good authority.”

“Whose?” Ivanka asked.

“Good authority,” Donald said. “She put some lines out to her home country, and they sent her back to Cromania the second I couldn’t stop it from happening.”

“Cromania?” Barron asked. “Do you mean Croatia or Romania?”

“Yes,” Donald said. “That’s the shit-hole country your mother’s from.”

“Can you get her back soon?” Donny Jr asked. “Me and Eric don’t have any clean clothes, and he’s really starting to smell bad.”

“Melania didn’t do the laundry,” Donald replied. “The maid took care of all that grunt work.”

“But she’s the one who called the maids over,” Eric said.

“Look,” Donald said. “We’re all going to pitch in and do our parts while I figure out how to get Melania back. In the meantime, I need to figure out how to keep my position as President of the Neighborhood Association, so the rest of you are on your own!”

“That statement seems to contradict itself,” Barron said.

“It’s easy if the three of you divvy up the chores,” Ivanka said. “Jared and I will even pitch in a bit when we can.”

“We’re going to ignore the fact that dad just flat out refused to help then?” Barron asked.

“Donny Jr and Eric can tackle the laundry,” Ivanka continued. “Barron, you can make sure the meals are prepped, and I’ll come over and cook. Jared can take care of any miscellaneous stuff when he has the chance.”

“Jared,” Donald said. “I’m gonna need you here full time, buddy.”

“But I have work,” Jared said.

“You work for me,” Donald said, “and right now I need a maid.”

Jared sighed. “Yes, sir.”

“So, we’re not divvying the chores?” Ivanka asked.

“Works for me!” Donny Jr said.

“Get started on that laundry, Jared,” Eric said, chuckling. “I’ve been wearing a diaper made out of newspaper instead of underwear for two days now.”

“You idiot,” Donny Jr said. “If you turn them inside out, you can get a full week out of a pair of tightie-whities.”

“OK,” Donald said, taking a deep breath. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some calls to make. My ass isn’t going to save itself.”


Donald sat at his desk, thinking hard with a half-eaten Big Mac in an open cardboard container in front of him. He picked it up and took a bite, thinking of what to do next. Ivanka came into his office, offering a solution to his problems.

“We need Melania back,” Ivanka said. “Do you have any idea where she could be?”

“I don’t think I kept the receipt,” Donald said through a full mouth. “She’s been around for years. I don’t get how this could happen!”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Ivanka said, sitting in the seat across from her father. “The neighborhood is latching onto this like crazy, and we’d shut them up about it if we can produce her.”

“It would be nice if we’d be able to shut Dani Weathers up too,” Donald muttered.

“The prostitute?” Ivanka asked. “I thought you said she was lying.”

“I still want her to shut up about it!” Donald snapped. “Damn it, Ivanka. What am I supposed to do?”

“You can resign,” Ivanka said with a shrug. “I know it’s what they want, but there seems to be an awful lot of stuff they have: Melania, Weathers, the pee tape, Vlad…”

“That’s it!” Donald said, standing. “That’s how we do this!”

“How?” Ivanka asked.

“We’ll go back to Vlad!” Donald said. “Let’s take a ride down to his building and go see him in person. He’s gotten me out of binds before.”

“I don’t think you want to bring up the binds he’s gotten you out of,” Ivanka suggested. “The tampering of the Neighborhood Association elections is one of the things they’re holding over your head right now. Do you really want to shake the beehive?”

“I’ll shake the hell out of it,” Donald replied, holding his hands in front of himself. “Look at the hands I have to do it with! They’re huge!”


Jared picked up the pile of wrestling magazines strewn about the floor, carrying them in his arms, against the apron draped over his lanky body. “Where do these magazines go?” he asked.

“Up your ass!” Eric called from upstairs, giggling along with Donny Jr.

“No,” Jared called in return. “Really. Where do these go?”

“Up your mother’s ass!” Donny Jr replied, guffawing.

“Maybe I’ll just throw them in the garbage,” Jared muttered.

The sound of quick-paced footsteps echoed through the house as Donny Jr and Eric charged downstairs from their bedroom. “You better not throw those out, pickle dick!” Eric yelled, grabbing the stack of magazines from Jared. “We’ve been collecting these since the nineties!”

“Yeah!” Donny Jr added, shoving Jared for good measure. “Touch them again, and we’ll dust the furniture with your dick!”

Jared sighed, knowing any response would get his penis mentioned again, and he was getting tired of Donny Jr and Eric bringing up his penis every chance they got. Instead of listening to the brothers discuss his genitals, he turned the TV on and decided to listen to the news while he finished cleaning the Trumps’ living room.

“A tape of Neighborhood Association president Donald Trump has surfaced,” the anchor said. “He appears to be in the act of urination while standing about in his underwear.”

“Jared, you asshole!” Donny Jr exclaimed, slapping his brother-in-law on the back of his head. “I thought you got rid of the pee tape!”

“I’m so gonna do stuff to your dick for messing this up,” Eric added. “Bad stuff!”

“I did,” Jared said. “Your father destroyed it.”

There was a still from the tape on TV, showing Donald with a blur over his lower body, urinating outside of a hotel. “Wait,” Jared said. “I remember Ivanka clearly saying the other tape was of him peeing in Mr. Mueller’s garden.”

“There was a second tape,” Donny Jr said. “I gotta call dad!”


Donald looked at his phone and quickly stashed it in his pocket. “Who’s that?” Ivanka asked.

“Just your brother, Donny Jr,” Donald replied. “Like I have time to entertain every one of his little whims.”

“What is it I can do for you?” Vlad asked in his thick Russian accent, sitting behind his huge, hardwood desk. His office was all dark wood, and he had a bearskin draped on the wall behind him, stretched out.

“I’m in a bind or two,” Donald said. “I need a little of your… expertise.”

“What kind of bind are you speaking of?” Vlad asked.

“The kind that involves blackmailing hookers,” Donald replied.

“You’re supposed to be asking about Melania,” Ivanka whispered.

“Oh yeah,” Donald said. “And my wife is missing, deported.”

“She was deported?” Vlad asked. “She was an American citizen, no?”

“I don’t know,” Donald said. “I was in a coma or something. Ivanka said they took her away. Look, Vladdie, she came from your country, I think. Can you help me get her back or not?”

“Can we speak in private?” Vlad asked. Donald turned toward Ivanka and nodded. She had a look of worry on her face, but she left the room.

“What is it?” Donald asked.

“Your wife is the least of your worries, my old friend,” Vlad replied, leaning over his desk. “I did you a favor, helping you win the Neighborhood Association presidency, and you have not held up your end of our deal.”

“What you’re asking for takes time,” Donald said. “Your company will get all of the city contracts, eventually. But you have to give me time to work it out.”

“I’ve given you plenty,” Vlad said, “but my patience wears thin.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Donald said.

Vlad sighed. “Even so,” he said, “you need to keep an eye out for this Mueller character. He’s been snooping around, trying to find out information about you and how you won the election.”

“Dammit,” Donald said. “I should have ousted him from the neighborhood when I had my chance. It’ll look too bad if I did it now.”

“He’s not just coming for you,” Vlad said. “Keep an eye on your son, son-in-law, and daughter.”

“Ivanka?!” Donald exclaimed. “He can’t come for her! No. Not her!”

“I’m just letting you know,” Vlad said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m sorry I can’t be any more help. I really am. Good luck finding your wife.”

“Who?” Donald asked. “Oh, right. Melanie.”

“Don’t you mean Melania?” Vlad asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Right,” Donald said. “Melania.”


“Shit,” Donny Jr said, holding his phone. “Why won’t Dad answer or read his texts?! You normally can’t keep him off that damn phone!”

“It’s OK,” Eric said. “He’s probably just -”

Eric was interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone. “Shut the fuck up!” Donny Jr shot, taking the call. “Dad! You need to see the news. It’s… Yeah? Oh fuck!” He hung up and looked at Eric and Jared.

“What did he say?” Eric asked.

“I’m in trouble,” Donny Jr said. “I helped Dad, and now I’m in trouble.”

“Helped Dad what?” Eric asked.

Donny Jr didn’t answer. He ran past Eric and Jared into his bedroom and started opening drawers, pulling out files and papers. He grabbed an armful and rushed them to the bathroom, tossing everything into the toilet and flushing. “It’s not going down!” he shouted, pushing the handle of the toilet over and over.

“I’m gonna have to clean that up,” Jared muttered.

“Shut the fuck up, cleaning bitch,” Eric said, “before I plunge the toilet with your dick!”


“What was that about?” Ivanka asked, driving Donald away from Vlad’s office building.

“Donny Jr had to get rid of some paperwork he was holding for me,” Donald replied, looking at his phone. “That’s all.”

Ivanka turned from the road for a moment to watch her father. “What did Vlad tell you?” she asked after the silence was too much. “Are we in trouble?”

Donald looked up from his phone to the side of his daughter’s face. If Vlad was right, then she was in trouble, and so was her husband. They had both helped him win the Neighborhood Association presidency through nefarious means, and now the bill was due. He thought he’d have more time to make enough deals to seal himself a seat for life, but things had moved much too fast.

But he didn’t have the heart to tell her she was doomed.

“You’re not in trouble,” Donald said. “But I need to think fast here. I need something to distract everyone from their own bullshit. I need to make the news for something that will wipe everyone’s mind clear of all these scandals the fake news keeps producing.”

“It sounds like you have an idea,” Ivanka said.

“I do,” Donald said. “I’m going to bring peace to the Koreans!”

“What?” Ivanka asked.

“You know,” Donald replied. “Those two laundromats who have been at each other’s asses for years: the Southside Cleaners and the North End Express. If I can get those two to stop fighting, then I’ll be golden once again.”

“But Mr. Kim and Mr. Moon have hated each other for years,” Ivanka said.

“They haven’t been to the negotiation table with me,” Donald answered, a smug smile on his face.

“Alright,” Ivanka sighed. “I hope you’re right about this.”

“I’m more than right,” Donald said, texting away on his phone. “They’ve already agreed to meet with me and talk this out.”


“What do you mean they both cancelled?!” Donald shouted, standing on the steps of the Neighborhood Association office. “They both agreed to meet me here and talk!”

“They both decided it wasn’t worth their time,” Mike said, his hand on Donald’s shoulder. “I don’t know what got into either of them, but Mr. Kim sounded like he was having a hoot over this.”

“I’m going to get that little roly-poly fuck,” Donald said through gritted teeth. The press was there. An anchor from the local news had come, and the reporter, Turner, from the County Neighborhood News had come as well, recorder in hand. “What am I supposed to do now? They’re going to twist everything I say.”

“I got you covered, Don,” Mike said. “I hired you a new press secretary to deal with this.”

“What happened to Sean!?” Donald exclaimed.

“You fired him,” Mike replied. “Remember?”

“Right,” Donald said. “Who’d you get?”

“I hired the daughter of a friend,” Mike said, smiling. “Her name’s Sarah Sanders, and she’s great at what she does.”


“Mr. Trump is confident he can still talk to Mr. Kim and establish lasting peace between the two Dry Cleaners,” Sarah said, addressing the two reporters. “We’re going to keep at it until we reach a resolution that satisfies the Neighborhood Association and the entire town.”

“That’s all well and good,” Turner said, raising a hand, “but what do you say about the allegations of election tampering. Some would say that this is just a distraction from a much bigger problem to the neighborhood; that problem being Donald Trump.”

“Sir,” Sarah said, staring daggers into Turner. “If you don’t stop asking these questions, I’m going to have to ask you leave.”

“You can’t do that,” Turner said. “I have a right to ask these questions.”

“Alright,” Sarah said, rolling up her sleeves and stepping toward Turner. “You’re gonna have to fuck the fuck off, right fuckin’ now.”

“Is she having a stroke or something?” Donald asked, watching Sarah threaten the reporter from a distance. “I think she needs and ambulance.”

“She always looks like that,” Mike smiled. “Is she good or what?”

Sarah took the tape recorder from Turner and tossed it away. It landed in some bushes, and Turner went after it, reaching inside to get it.

“She’s good,” Donald said. “I’ll hand it to you Mike. She was a good pick.”

“She’s loyal, too,” Mike continued. “She hasn’t told anyone that I’m…. She’s good at keeping secrets.”

“Hold down the fort here, Mike,” Donald said. “I have to put out some fires at home.”

“Good luck,” Mike said.

“Thanks,” Donald replied, walking back to his car, wishing the day would just end, preferably with some good news.


Donald sat in his office, not knowing what to do next. His phone sat on his desk, begging to be picked up. The Twitter app waited for him to send out a tirade of obscene goodness, bashing his haters, and fueling those who still supported him. He pushed it away, not having the words to type for the first time in a long time. He thought about going to bed early after taking a dump when there was a knock on the door. Ivanka walked in a moment later. “Are you OK, Daddy?”

“I’m OK as I’m going to be, sweetheart,” Donald said. “This was just a long day.”

“I have some news if it helps,” Ivanka said.

“I’m not sure I want any more news,” Donald said. “It’s mostly fake anyway.”

“We found Melania,” Ivanka said. “She’s on the phone for you.”

Donald looked at Ivanka and then toward the phone on his desk. He picked it up and put it to his ear. “Hello?” he asked as Ivanka left him to reconcile with his wife. “Melania?”

“Hello, Donald,” Melania said from the other end. “How have you been?”

“Not good,” Donald said. “Everything is going to hell, and you’re nowhere to be found. Ivanka says I need you back to help with all this nonsense, so where the hell are you?!”

“That’s your problem, Donald,” Melania replied. “You want me back to save your image. You didn’t say you want me back because you miss me, or you love me, like a husband should say if his wife was taken away from him for an entire week.”


“It’s always about you!” Melania raised her voice. “Even at Mrs. Bush’s funeral, all anyone could talk about during and after was you and how you, the president of the Neighborhood Association, blew it off to play golf because of some grudge. It wasn’t about you, Donald. It was about honoring the dead, despite any animosity in the past. I wonder how many people will skip your funeral.”

“You wouldn’t be talking to me like that if you were here,” Donald said.

“You’re right,” Melania said. “And that makes me even more glad I’m not there.” She hung up. Donald took the phone from his ear, looked at it for a moment, and hung it up.


Melania ended the call on her cellphone and put it into her purse. She got up from the bench on the train station and walked toward the ticket booth. “Two tickets to New York City, please,” she said. The cashier rang her up and handed her the two tickets. Melania walked away, toward the trains to New York.

“Is everything OK, Mom?” Barron asked.

“Everything is fine,” Melania said, putting her arm around her son’s shoulders and pulling him close to her. “I just needed to say some things to your father before we go.”

“He didn’t mention that I left home, did he?” Barron asked. “Did anyone even notice I left?”

“No,” Melania sighed. “But I’m glad you found me before anyone else did.”

“Me too,” Barron said. “What are we going to do in New York?”

“Stay as far away from your father’s nonsense as possible,” Melania said. “I had to fake getting deported in order to leave. If there’s a next time, I’ll probably have to fake my death.”


Donald came downstairs form his study, and found his family, except Melania and Barron, sitting around the living room. “Did you talk to her?” Ivanka asked.

“She’s not coming home,” Donald said.

“Oh,” Ivanka said, looking away.

“Don’t give me that look!” Donald said. “This isn’t the end of the Trumps! We’re going to fight the haters, the fake news, Mueller, Crooked Hillary, and everyone else who thinks I’m just going to resign and walk away from the Neighborhood Association! They think I’m bad now? Just wait until they see what’s in store! By God, I’m going to make this neighborhood great -”

The door was kicked open, and a bunch of police officers rushed in. “We have a warrant for the arrests of Donald Trump Jr, Jared Kushner, and Ivanka Trump-Kushner,” an officer in a suit and tie said. “Please come with us.”

Donny Jr was cuffed, struggling against the officer. “Let me go, pig!” he shouted. “I know my rights!”

“I’ll wait for you!” Eric exclaimed.

Ivanka didn’t fight. “Daddy?” she said, a look of fear in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Donald said, a look of pain on his. Ivanka and Donny Jr were both led outside. Jared came next, passing his father-in-law.

“Jared,” Eric said. Jared turned toward him. “Don’t drop the soap.” Jared, horrorstruck, was led outside to the waiting police cruiser.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Donald asked, being left alone with Eric.

“I don’t know,” Eric said, shrugging. “We can order a pizza for dinner.”

“I was talking to myself!” Donald roared.

“OK,” Eric said, backing away with his palms raised up. “Sorry for trying to help. Geeze, Dad.”

To Be Concluded…

***Edited by Katherine J Marshall***


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