A Day In The Life Of Donald Trump
We all know what Donald Trump claims to do on a daily basis, but what does the hopeful presidential candidate actually do with each hour of his day? We went deep undercover to see how he spends his time when no one else is looking. This is the first ever exclusive look at a day in the life of Donald Trump.
Trump emerges from his cocoon, which is made from confiscated immigration papers and old honeycombs, and makes a sound that is only comparable to a bat being beheaded. The sun pierces his skin as the primordial ooze drips from his body.
He crawls around on all fours gathering various insects and plant roots from the room, then ventures into his yard where he continues to collect them into a large burlap sack tied around his neck. Once the sack is full, he lets out a mighty howl as he stands on only his legs for the first time of the day and beats at his chest. It’s a terrifying, repulsive sight to behold.
Trump takes the burlap sack full of moths, earthworms, beetles, scorpions, grasshoppers and other various creatures and holds it in one hand while shaking a coffin with the other. What sort of hideous creature is inside this old, decrepit casket? After a few shakes, the lid slides off as the sun vanishes behind the clouds. The earth rumbles at the presence of pure evil. Ann Coulter emerges with a shriek that causes every bird within a mile radius to burst into flames. Trump empties the contents of the burlap sack into her mouth. “Must consume life,” she mumbles as the flames of Hell flicker from beneath her. There is a deep feeling of sorrow and despair with each gulp she takes.
After eating her sacrifice, Ann Coulter crawls back into her coffin. She is pleased with the sacrifice. Trump uses a hose on the side of the house to wash the innards of the insects off of his gelatin-shaped body. His handlers enter. Two of them are carrying a suit and the other is holding the rotting head of a boar. As Trump snaps and lunges for the boar carcass, the other two quickly put his suit on. Now he’s ready to meet the public.
On his way to lunch he spots a Latino woman pushing her baby in a stroller down the street. The woman is dressed nicely and appears to be quite happy. Trump begins to foam at the mouth and tries desperately to throw a lamp at her. Thankfully, a handler pulls it from his grips. “Immigration!” he yells to no one in particular.
As Trump and his team arrive at a luncheon, the handlers see members of the press waiting for a statement from him. They act quickly and rub large amounts of peanut butter on his mouth so he won’t actually be able to speak, but can still continually move his mouth. They have a soundboard ready that will blurt out random hot words, like China, immigration, jabroni, Kenya and synergy. Their peanut butter budget makes up over 40 percent of his campaign cost.
After lunch, Trump sits down at a laptop for an hour and Googles his own name with various insults like “Trump sucks,” “Trump is the worst,” and “Trump ate a diaper at the Denver Zoo in 2007, and here’s the video to prove it.” He makes sure to write down every name on the list so his team can look up their IP addresses.
After his list is made, he hands it to a team of techs who track down their information to see if they’re from a foreign country living in the US. If so, he has them immediately deported on terrorism and drug suspicion. One time he had a dog put down just because his bark sounded like he was saying “Trump” in a sarcastic manner.
This is usually the time of day when Ann Coulter starts rumbling around in her coffin demanding additional sacrifices be made, but since Hillary Clinton keeps posting all those ridiculous videos and tweets online, they just stream them into Coulter’s chamber of soulless abyss and they please the dark lord just as much. Occasionally, one of her talons of darkness will protrude through the coffin, but a handler tosses in a live fish to distract her.
This is labeled on his daily planner as “Spaghetti Time.” You’d think it means he eats spaghetti, but it’s actually the time of day he buys as much spaghetti as possible online so he can drive up the price and attempt to make it only available to the top one percent of the population. So far this plan has not worked.
No one knows what happens for the next few hours, because Trump disappears behind a locked door that is completely soundproof. All we do know is that the only people who are allowed to enter are:
It’s like an Illuminati meeting, except terrible in every way.
Trump exits the room, puts a pillow over his face and screams the word “Muslim” into it for a half hour or so. Somehow he always starts bleeding during this time.
This is the witching hour in which Trump is allowed to run free through the neighborhood unaccompanied. You’ll know when he’s in your town because there will be a drastic increase in animal attacks that night. Livestock will go missing and family pets will be consumed or maimed. His handlers have to treat every night like those containment crews in “Men In Black” that erased everyone’s memory. So far they’ve been successful, but many pets have fallen victim.
Trump is force-fed a sedative to calm him down as the handlers desperately try to hide any evidence of the dogs he just consumed. He’s sedated enough to be crammed back into his cocoon where he’ll rest up for another day of campaigning and another night of feasting. From outside you can hear Ann Coulter cackle with joy deep below the earth. Their day of reckoning is coming. We’ve been warned.