Donald Trump in Hell
Donald Trump died from eating a bag of rancid Big Macs and was shipped straight to Hell.
One of the lower level demons greeted him and told him, "Donald, you've been so bad we can't figure out where to put you. Until we do, you'll have to sit in this room." He is led into a small room kept at a pleasant temperature. There's a chair in there for him to sit. Three times a day he is served palatable food. All he has to do is wait for his final destination.
One hundred years goes by. Trump pounds on the door, and a slightly higher ranking demon answers it. "I'm ready to start making Hell great again. I need to make speeches and rally supporters. Why aren't you letting me out of here?" The demon tells him, "no one as evil as you has ever been sent here. We are still creating an environment that will properly punish you."
Five hundred years goes by. Trump pounds on the door again and a deputy to the Devil Himself answers it. "What's taking so fucking long? When I was a building contractor we got buildings up in days! I have to start doing Make Hell Great Again rallies or Hell will never be great again!" The demon tells him that he will hate what they come up with when they're done with it.
A thousand years went by. Trump pounds on the door and Satan answers it. "What, you think I'm scared of a little heat? I'm not! I fucking bought a house in Florida. Heat ain't shit to me. Let me the fuck out of here so I can go to work." Satan looks at him. "You don't get it, do you?" "Get what?" "This IS your punishment. We could throw you in the Lake of Fire and you'd love it. We could bury you up to your nostrils in rancid pig manure and you'd feel right at home. The only way to repay you for your misdeeds is what we did - take away the only things in the world you loved, which were money and attention. You'll be here forever."
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OR... 'We're working on it. --- Waiting payment.'
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