The Trumps – All Huge Things Must Come to an End


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 walked into his kitchen, wearing his robe. He found his son, Eric, sitting at the table with a box of Pop Tarts in front of himself. The toaster was also on the table, plugged into an extension cord so he wouldn’t have to go far to cook and eat.

“Good morning,” Eric said.

Donald grunted. “Where’s the covfefe… I mean coffee.”

“Who always made it?” Eric asked.

“Fucked if I know,” Donald mumbled, sitting down at the table, across from his son. A week had passed since everyone else in his family had gone. Melania was deported and refused to come home or something. The whole deal confused him. Then the police came and arrested Donny Jr, Ivanka, and Jared. To top it all off, he didn’t even know what happened to Barron.

Eric smiled, chewing on his breakfast.

“What the hell are those things?” Donald asked.

“Pop Tarts,” Eric said, demonstrating what he was eating by spewing crumbs of it from his mouth while he spoke. “They’re Jolly Rancher flavored.”

“I guess it beats nothing,” Donald said, tearing open a package and putting them in the toaster. “You got something to drink?”

Eric put a bottle of blue Gatorade in front of his father.

“Great,” Donald said, opening the bottle. “Let’s make breakfast great again.”


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

Season 1, Episode 10: All Huge Things Must Come to an End

“We need to make this quick,” Donald said, walking into the North Street Penitentiary with Eric by his side. “That breakfast of yours isn’t sitting well at all.”

“Why did everyone get arrested anyway?” Eric asked.

Donald sighed and lowered his voice. “They helped me win the Neighborhood Association election,” he said, “but a certain group of people believe that it was through not-so-nice means. They’re basically in trouble for helping me, and my haters want to make sure anyone who helped me ends up in prison, even though we’re all innocent.”

“But Donny Jr went crazy after he talked to you,” Eric said. “He was trying to flush all this paper down the toilet and everything.”

“Shut up,” Donald groaned. “Now isn’t the time or place to talk about it.”

“OK,” Eric replied, walking along with his father, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Hey. How come I wasn’t arrested?”

“Because you didn’t help,” Donald replied.

“Why didn’t you ask for my help?” Eric asked.

Donald sighed again, stopped walking, and turned toward his son. “Look, do you want me to spell it out for you? You’re not as bright as your brother, and you definitely can’t hold a candle to Ivanka. We left you out because we knew you’d somehow screw it all up. Is that what you wanted to hear, that you’re too dumb to be asked to help with even the most simplest of tasks?”

“No,” Eric said, sniffing. “I didn’t want to hear that at all.”

“Then don’t ask why you’re not included in stuff like this,” Donald said, turning and walking down the hall again. “Sad.”

“Mr. Trump!” someone yelled.

“Don?!” another voice exclaimed.

Donald turned toward the cell and saw Jared sitting on the bed, and Mike Pence standing by the bars, topless and wearing nothing but the orange bottoms of his prison jumpsuit. “Mike?” Donald asked. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m having fun with my cellmate,” Mike said, grabbing and uncomfortable-looking Jared by the shoulder, hard. “We’re going to oil up my pecs in a minute and really get crazy.”

“They let you bring oil in here?” Eric asked.

“I make my own,” Mike replied.

“I meant,” Donald sighed, “what are you doing in prison?”

“Oh,” Mike said. “That. I got arrested at a rest stop for soliciting a… You know what, it’s not important.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “Look, Don. They’re trying to get me to flip on you, but I’m your man, through and through. Also, I love it here. Everyone is so friendly, especially in the showers.”

“Right,” Donald said, turning away. “I need to see my son and daughter.”

“Wait,” Jared said. “You’re going to see Ivanka? Take me with you!”

“No can do, Jared,” Donald said. “It’s a top-level meeting, and only top-level people are invited.”

“Then why am I here?” Eric asked.

“I have no idea,” Donald replied, continuing his walk down the corridor.

“Well,” Mike said, sitting on his bunk and putting his arm around Jared’s shoulders, “this bod isn’t going to oil itself up.”


Rudy, the head of Donald’s legal counsel, was waiting outside of the room for Donald. “Good morning,” he said, smiling a wrinkly smile. “I see you brought Eric. It’s good to get him out of the house, isn’t it?”

“Can the chatter,” Donald said. “Are Donny Jr and Ivanka in there?”

“Yes,” Rudy replied. “I had to pull some major strings for them to bring Ivanka here, but you have to know that -”

“I don’t have to know anything,” Donald interrupted. “And you need to stop blabbing to the media about my business. Do you have any idea how bad you’ve made me look over the last two weeks?”

“I explained this to you already,” Rudy said. “I’m just getting ahead of it. They can’t use it against you if you’re already out and open about it.”

“Whatever,” Donald said. “Just keep Eric company while I talk to Donny Jr and Ivanka.”

“OK,” Rudy said. “Just be wary of what’s going on here.”

Donald grunted and went into the room, closing the door between himself and Rudy.

“Hey,” Eric said. “Am I too dumb to get into prison?”

Rudy looked over Eric. “I could probably argue the case that you have the mental capacity of an eleven-year-old and have you tried as a child,” he said. “I think that’ll work.”

“So, yes?” Eric asked.

Rudy nodded, and Eric looked away.


Donald sat across from Donny Jr and Ivanka, who were wearing matching orange jumpsuits. “Daddy,” Ivanka said. “We’re so sorry this happened.”

“Sorry my nuts,” Donny Jr retorted. “Why the hell am I in here, anyway?”

“Look,” Donald said. “I’m going to figure out how to get you out of here. Everything they think they have on you is all fabrication and bullshit. The two of you being in here is going to be temporary. I am going to get you out.”

“They’ll let us out, Daddy,” Ivanka said. She looked toward her brother who gave her a nod, confirming that he had the same conversation she had.

“What’s that about?” Donald asked.

Ivanka sighed. “They said they’ll let us out if you resign from the Neighborhood Association Presidency.”

“No!” Donald snapped. “Absolutely not!”

“We’re in jail, dad!” Donny exclaimed. “I know it’s all tickle fights and muff-eating in women’s prison for Ivanka…”

“No it isn’t,” Ivanka said.

“But for me,” Donny Jr continued, “my ass is literally on the menu. Look at me! I’m one dropped bar of soap away from being a rotisserie chicken! So resign already.”

“I said no!” Donald shouted, slamming a fist on the table. “That’s what they want! They want to use you as bargaining chips to get me off the board for stuff I haven’t even done!”

“But Daddy,” Ivanka said, almost whispering. “You did-”

“Enough!” Donald shouted, standing. “I’ll get you both out of here, and I’ll do it my way!”

“Jared too?” Ivanka asked.

“If there’s time,” Donald replied. “Now let daddy work. You’ll be out of here before you know it.” He left, leaving his son and daughter in the room.

“What are the chances he’ll resign?” Donny Jr asked.

Ivanka looked toward her brother. “You better learn to hang onto your soap.”


Donald sat in his office, deep in thought. Most of his family was in prison, and the walls felt like they were closing in. Everything around him had gone wrong, and he was running out of options. The hooker literally had him by the balls, Mueller had uncovered more than just a pee tape, and it was only a matter of time before Mike Pence flipped, was no longer his man, and decided to take over the presidency once Donald was ousted from office.

The cold metal barrel of his revolver touched his temple, and he thumbed back the hammer. This was it, the trump card he had kept in his private deck all along when plans A through Z were all but exhausted.

Before he could go through with it, there was a knock on his office door.

“Come in,” Donald said, stashing the revolver in a desk drawer. Eric came in a moment later, holding a plate of Pop Tarts. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to see if you wanted dinner,” Eric said. “They’re the peanut butter ones.”

“No thanks,” Donald said. “I don’t have much of an appetite.”

“What’s wrong, Dad?” Eric asked. “I know… I probably won’t understand. But if there’s anything I can do to help, I will.”

Donald was ready to dismiss his son and contemplate his own death a little more, but a use for his most useless progeny came into his head. “There is something. I need you to go to prison.”

“Like to visit Donny Jr and Ivanka?” Eric asked. “You wouldn’t let me see them earlier.”

“No,” Donald said. “You need to get arrested and end up on the inside. Then, I need you to kill Mike.”

“Your work friend?” Eric asked. “Why would you want him dead?”

“He’s next in line for my job!” Donald snapped. “I need him out of the way before he cuts himself a plea to get out of prison, makes it look like I’m guilty, and takes over the presidency of the Neighborhood Association.”

“And you want me to kill him?” Eric asked.

“You offered to help,” Donald said, sitting back and crossing his arms. “Maybe you’re not as useless as Ivana said you are.”

“Mom said that?” Eric asked, a look of pure hurt on his face. “I can do it! I swear I can get arrested, go to jail, and kill your friend!”

“Good,” Donald said. “Figure it out and get it done. I have other shit I need to do.”


Donald walked out of his office into the afternoon sun. A podium was set up, and Sarah Sanders, his spokeswoman, was waiting for him. “They all warmed up?” he asked. The local media, television and newspapers, were waiting to hear what he had to say, and he knew they all expected him to tender his resignation from the Neighborhood Association.

“They’re warmed up,” Sarah replied, “if ‘seething’ means warmed up.”

“Good,” Donald said, taking the podium. “Today, fellow neighborhood citizens, I want to clear the record about my children, my campaign, and the thing with the girl and the other thing.”

There was a murmur from the crowd as Donald took a pause and a deep breath.

“There are charges alleged against me, saying that Vlad helped me win the election to become president of the association,” Donald said. “I want to address those first, and I assure you that every single one of the allegations against me are completely false. What we’ve witnessed here is nothing more than a witch hunt.”

There was a wave of discussion and questions from the small crowd.

“Secondly,” Donald continued, “my son, daughter, and son-in-law are all innocent of their supposed crimes, and should be released immediately. Mueller, one of my pain-in-the-ass neighbors, made up these crimes to punish my kids for things I’ve never done. This is a disgusting lie, and they should not be imprisoned for it. That’s it.”

“What about the allegations from the prostitute that say you sexually assaulted her?” Turner, reporter for the County Neighborhood News asked, putting his hand in the air. “Do you want to talk about Dani Weathers and her allegations as well?”

“No,” Donald Trump said. “Any other questions can be directed to Sarah.” He walked off the stage as the reporters shouted their questions. “There,” he said to Rudy as Sarah tried her creative best to tell everyone to shut up. “That should keep them quiet long enough for me to figure this all out.”

“You didn’t tell them anything new,” Rudy said. “You can’t just shout ‘witch hunt’ and call everyone with evidence against you liars.”

“Why not?” Donald said. “I still have some aces up my sleeve.”

“What aces are those?” Rudy asked.

“The wall!” Donald yelled. “We’ll start talking about building the wall to keep the other neighborhood out of ours. And don’t forget those Korean cleaners. Let’s schedule a meeting with them and cancel it.”

“Why?” Rudy asked.

Donald shrugged. “Who cares? Just as long as it keeps them out of the election business long enough for Eric to do his thing, and for me to cover up this mess.”

“What is Eric doing?” Rudy asked.

“Nothing,” Donald quickly replied. “Come on. Let’s head to Wendy’s and grab some burgers.”


“I’m going to shoot this giraffe!” Eric shouted, standing in the middle of the street. The neighbors were all watching from the windows as he held his BB gun over his head. He saw some curtains move, and he knew he had an audience. A stuffed giraffe, one that Barron had left behind, was sitting on top of a fence post.

“I’m going to do it!” he shouted. “I hope nobody calls the police!”

Eric hesitated, waiting for the neighbors to call the police so he could be arrested and somehow do as his father had asked. At least he’d be with Donny Jr again. He pumped the air rifle and took aim at the giraffe’s head. He squeezed the trigger, and the stuffed toy’s head rocked back as it fell to the ground.

“Got you, you fucker!” Eric shouted. He listened, and there were no sirens or any police shouting. He pumped his air rifle and walked toward the fallen giraffe. He aimed it at its body. “I’m not done with you,” he said, pumping another BB into the giraffe. “You cunt!”

Again, there was silence in the neighborhood. “Shit,” Eric said. “How the hell am I supposed to get arrested then?”

A woman walked down the other side of the street, her dog ahead of her on the leash. She gave Eric an odd look, so he picked up his rifle and aimed it at her dog.


Everyone was gone, one by one. First Melania was deported and left, and Barron somehow disappeared. Then Ivanka, Donny Jr, and Jared were all arrested soon after. Mike got himself thrown in prison too, and even Eric was missing, presumably attempting to get into prison to kill Mike at Donald’s behest.

The Trumps’ home was odd when it was silent like this. There was no Donny Jr and Eric arguing about backyard wrestling, Melania quietly crying in the bathroom, Ivanka and Jared arguing over there instead of at their own house, or Donald shouting at everyone to shut up and give him some peace and quiet. Now that he had his peace and quiet, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

The desk phone rang, and Donald nearly jumped out of his pants. He picked it up. “Donald Trump,” he said.

“Donald,” the voice on the other end said. “It’s Robert Mueller. I want to give you one last chance to come clean.”

“I am clean,” Donald said. “This sick obsession you have with me needs to end. You won’t win, Mueller, and your lies are going to catch up with you.”

There was a long sigh on the other end of the phone. “Step down and end this,” Mueller said, “or I will.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Donald said. “I still have my kids and my family. You can’t get all of us.”

“Can’t I?” Mueller asked. “Last chance, Trump. Step down and move out of the neighborhood, or I’ll play my last card.” He hung up without waiting for a response.

“Sad,” Donald said, putting down his phone. He took in a breath, sitting in the office in his silent home.


Jared walked through the prison yard, looking around for Donny Jr. He spotted him on the other side, playing basketball without his shirt on. “Donny,” he said, walking up to the court. “We need to talk.”

“Who’s yo’ bitch?” one of the players asked.

“A friend,” Donny Jr said, passing him the ball. “I’m out, guys. I’ll see you at dinner. What do you want Jared? I’m finally making it good with one of the gangs, and I didn’t even have to blow the white power guys in D Block.”

“I’m scared,” Jared said. “Mike has been… touching me. I think he’s going crazy in here.”

“Shit,” Donny Jr said. “I’ve been hearing all about him, too. Is it true what he did to that twink in the showers?”

“That was me!” Jared said, tears now coming.

“Stop that!” Donny Jr said. “Do you have any idea what they’ll do to you if they see you crying here? Do you know what they’ll do to me if they see me comforting a little bitch who cries?!”

“Sorry,” Jared said. “I figured you’d have some kind of plan to get out of here. Did your Dad tell you anything?”

“He only said he won’t resign,” Donny Jr replied. “That means we’re on our own, and I do have a plan.”

“What’s going on here?” Mike said, walking up to Donny Jr and Jared. He wore only the bottoms of his jumpsuit, and he now had a tattoo of a dollar bill across his chest. “You two having a tea party without me?”

“We’re just talking,” Jared said. “Honest, Mike. We’re just talking.”

Mike looked from Jared to Donny Jr and back again. “I better not find out it’s anything else,” he said, walking away. He nodded to the white power brotherhood as he headed to the barbells to do some lifting.

“What’s your plan?” Jared asked. “I’ll do anything. I can’t spend one more night in that cell with him!”

“Here’s the plan,” Donny Jr said, shoving a shiv into Jared’s thigh. “You go to the infirmary, and make sure Ivanka finds out you got shanked in the yard, only tell her some black guy did it. She’ll probably call Dad, begging him to cut the deal, resign, and get us all out of here.”

“I don’t like this plan,” Jared said, falling to the ground in a puddle of his own blood.

“Fuck you, Jared!” Donny Jr snapped. “It’s the only one I got! Let’s see you come up with something better before you bleed out, you little bitch!”


Donald woke up the following morning to find Eric once again in the kitchen, eating Pop Tarts with the toaster on the table. “So, you’re still here?” he asked.

“I tried,” Eric admitted, “but it wasn’t enough. I shot a giraffe, a dog, and a kindergarten kid, but I couldn’t get arrested. The most I got was some lady calling me an asshole.”

“You can’t even do that right,” Donald said. “It doesn’t matter. Maybe having Mike killed wasn’t the best idea.”

“Are you serious?!” Eric said, Pop Tart crumbs flying from his mouth. “I was going to rob a bank with my BB gun today!”

Donald’s phone rang in his pocket, and he took it out to see a number he didn’t recognize. He accepted and put the phone to his ear. “Donald Trump,” he said.

“Daddy,” Ivanka’s voice said from the other end. “Have you found a way to get us out of here yet?”

“I’m working on it,” Donald replied. “Give me a few days.”

“I don’t know if we have it,” Ivanka said. “Jared was stabbed yesterday, and he nearly died in the prison yard.”

“Oh?” Donald asked. “Well it’s not too bad a loss.”

“Did you hear me?!” Ivanka sobbed. “He almost died! Thank God Donny was there to help!”

Donald was silent, listening to his daughter cry from the phone in prison.

“Daddy,” Ivanka said, getting her crying under control. “You need to make the deal. Resign so the charges are dropped. Jared won’t last. Do it for me.”

“Phone time is over!” someone shouted in Ivanka’s background.

“Daddy!” Ivanka sobbed. “I…”

“Time’s up, Trump!”

“I have to go,” Ivanka cried. “Please help Jared. Save him.” The call ended.

Donald stared at his phone as the screen went black. “I guess it’s over,” he said. “I’m going to have to -”

“Dad,” Eric said, looking at his own phone. “You’re going to want to turn on the news.”

Donald looked at his son and then turned on the TV on the kitchen counter. The anchor was doing a story on Donald. “The lawyer of prostitute Dani Weathers has brought forth evidence of Neighborhood President Donald Trump’s collusion in winning the presidency of the association,” he said. “It’s unknown how Weathers’ lawyer came across the video tape and wire tap evidence that proves the election was fixed, but it seals the fate of the now disgraced Donald Trump.”

“What’s this mean?” Eric asked.

“It means it’s over,” Donald replied, setting is phone on the table as it vibrated frantically. “This whole stupid thing is over, and it’s far too late to make any of this right for anyone.”


The lights of the police cruisers flashed in front of the home of Donald Trump, and the cameras of the local media were all waiting for him to emerge. The police had asked him to come out minutes ago, and everyone was holding their breath as to what would happen next. The President of the Neighborhood Association had been boisterous, obnoxious, and foul since the day he won the election, and now he was to be arrested and ousted due to his role in tampering with the election results.

But nobody knew what kind of end would come to Donald Trump.

Finally, the door opened, and Donald Trump emerged, wearing his best suit, his hair combed neatly. He stopped on his porch as he closed the door behind him, and his son Eric looked from the front window of the house as his father walked toward the waiting cruisers, his whole world undone because of a prostitute he hadn’t taken seriously, whose lawyer somehow had more dirt on him than anyone else had been able to uncover. He didn’t say a word as the officers approached him, holding a set of handcuffs, reading Trump his Miranda rights.

Donald only nodded once to the arresting officer before he was put into the back of one of the cruisers and driven away from his home to answer for the heinous things he had done.


Edited by Katherine J Marshall

One comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s