The Big Boot: A Make-Believe Tale of Donald’s Departure
I intended to send you this BEFORE sending the sequels. Hey, stuff happens! 😳 ENJOY
Once upon a time in the year 2026, the nation was teetering between reality and absurdity. Donald J. Trump, after somehow returning to the White House by convincing just enough people that gravity was fake and windmills cause cancer, was sitting in the Oval Office, rage-tweeting from a golden flip phone while chewing on a Filet-O-Fish and dictating executive orders to ban facts.
But the country had had enough.
After months of mounting chaos — including a failed attempt to replace the Statue of Liberty with a 90-foot statue of himself in golf attire — a rare moment of bipartisan clarity broke through the usual fog of dysfunction like a lightning bolt through a spray tan.
It began when Chief Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson, wearing aviators and a look of constitutional fury, declared during a live Supreme Court hearing:
“This man has violated more laws than a NASCAR driver violates speed limits.”
The final straw? A leaked video showing Trump attempting to appoint his favorite steak sauce as Secretary of State, stating, “A.1. has more experience than anyone in Foggy Bottom.”
The Boot Begins
Congress, in a miracle unseen since the moon landing, passed Article 29 of the Emergency Accountability Act, also known as the “Oh Hell No Clause.” It read simply:
“If a sitting president makes a mockery of the republic using clownish behavior, historical revisionism, and meat-based diplomacy, they shall be removed by unanimous sarcasm.”
With cheers echoing across the land and fireworks prematurely going off in all 50 states, the Capitol Police rolled up in a glitter-covered stretch golf cart named “The Democracy Defender.”
Trump, confused but undeterred, tried to barricade himself in the Lincoln Bedroom with a bucket of KFC and a stack of unsigned subpoenas. But the door was opened easily, because it turned out he had barricaded himself inside a closet.
“I DECLARE THIS FAKE NEWS!” he screamed as Rangers of the Constitution (a newly formed task force of law professors, librarians, and exhausted schoolteachers) escorted him peacefully but firmly from the premises.
Melania waved him off from the balcony, reportedly mumbling, “Finally.”
Meanwhile…
Mike Pence, who had spent the previous two years in a sensory deprivation chamber labeled “In Case of Emergency,” declined to return, instead choosing to run a candle shop in rural Indiana.
With the office empty, President Pro Tem Shirley Applebaum, a retired librarian from Des Moines and surprise 3rd-party candidate, was sworn in. Her first acts included reinstating science, apologizing to every country Trump had insulted, and mailing every American a book, a plant, and a pair of noise-canceling headphones.
The Aftermath
Trump, now residing at a luxury compound somewhere between Mar-a-Lago and a haunted Chuck E. Cheese, insisted on Truth Social that he was still the real president. “I’m leading in all the polls. Even the ones I made up!” he posted hourly, followed by 17 American flag emojis and a gif of himself riding an eagle.
Meanwhile, Americans breathed easier. The National Park Service reported an increase in smiles per capita, and the phrase “Let me speak to the manager of democracy” was retired.
And so…
The nation didn’t live happily ever after — democracy takes work — but it did live more truthfully, more peacefully, and with fewer all-caps outbursts at 3 a.m.
And that, dear reader, is how Donald J. Trump got The Big Boot.
Julie Bolejack, MBA
